Still in denial about the fact that he's really a girl on the inside, young college student Chris keeps searching for the right girl who will straighten him out and put all of his "girlish nonsense" to rest once and for all. And when he meets fellow college student Sarah, he begins to believe she is his salvation. Yet despite his best efforts to hook up with her, bad luck keeps inexplicably plaguing Chris. But when he finally meets the unlikely woman who straightens him out (but not in the way he expected), he finally gets an explanation for the bad luck that's been following him around.
 
 

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Chapter 1

“Hey man! Slow down. You’re taking these corners way too fast!” said a young man on a mountain bike. “The race isn’t until next weekend.”

Riding a top of the line mountain bike, the faster cyclist briefly whipped his head around to utter a feisty reply.

“Exactly my point dude,” he asserted.

“Hey man!” shouted his gassed friend, “Watch out!”

Whipping his head back around as he came around a tight bend, the leader made a quick course correction, narrowly avoiding disaster on the increasingly treacherous trail. Straightening out his bike, his tires rattled over a short wooden bridge.

Nearing the end of the narrow path, the feistier rider braked abruptly. The knobby rear tire burrowed through the thin coating of mulch into the parched ground below, kicking up dust. And it wasn’t too long until his winded comrade belatedly joined him.

The tardy rider shifted his gaze from the narrow view of the clearing that his position afforded him, and looked at the dusty face of his exhilarated friend. He removed his clear cycling glasses, the exterior of which looked like the windshield of a car after a long summer evening’s drive.

“Damn it’s humid!” he said. “We should really try to ride earlier now that the gnats are swarming.”

“I wish,” said the fitter of the two. “It’s too bad that one of the trade-offs of working at a bike shop so I could get a discount on this sweet bike is having to work on Saturday mornings.”

They remounted their bikes and soft pedaled toward a recently mown field.

“Hey John, do you think you’re going to break into the top ten this year?”

“Better than that, I think,” he asserted. “I feel better than I’ve ever felt. If I wouldn’t have gotten sick a month before the race last year, I think I would have done…”

Boom!

In unison, the pair jumped out of their seats, their heart rates climbing higher than during a long category 1 climb.

“Holy shit!” said John. “What the hell was that?”

“Maybe it was a transformer exploding or something,” suggested his friend.

“Either that or thunder,” reasoned John. Good thing we got our ride in early enough.” He glanced back at his friend before he stared in the direction of where the sound emanated. “Whoa! Check that out Steve,” he said, pointing to a figure emerging from the tree line to the south. “Where did she come from?”

“You got me,” replied Steve. “But wherever she came from, I think they were serving alcohol. The way she’s walking, she looks like my Uncle on a Saturday night.”

“Dude, c’mon,” said John. “She might be confused. Maybe she has Alzheimer’s or something. I’m gonna’ go see if she’s okay.”

The woman had already closed nearly a quarter of the distance before John jogged over to meet her in the stagnant layer of air beneath a dusky sky. The first thing that struck him was how inappropriately the middle aged woman was dressed for such a typical summer evening. In addition to her jeans, she was wearing a pink sweater and a lavender windbreaker. The second odd thing he noticed was that the rather tall woman was clutching a book close to her body; in fact, She seemed to care more about the book than the discomfort of being immersed in the sultry air mass.

“Excuse me ma’am, but are you okay?” asked John, in a slow and deliberate tone.

The woman didn’t respond. She just continued to clutch the book close to her body as if she were clinging to a life raft for dear life.

“That’s a nasty cut you got there on your forehead,” observed John. “Do you know how you got it? Do you remember what happened to you?”

Still oblivious to John’s presence, the woman scanned her surroundings, seemingly taking them in for the first time. Then, the stunned expression on her face faded slightly before she belatedly responded to his query.

“I’m looking for my wife,” she began. “Have you seen my wife? Now’s the right time I think. Do you know what time it is?”

John looked at her with furrowed brow. “What? Don’t you mean…”

His voice trailed off as the obvious dawned on him.

With eyebrow raised, he simply uttered, “Ohhh.”

After his epiphany, the woman’s searching eyes reminded him of her earlier question.

“Oh right,” began John. “It’s 7:30.” Shifting his gaze from his watch to over his shoulder at the sound of crunching footsteps behind him, he motioned for Steve to join him. “Steve,” he whispered. “I need you to dial 911. This woman’s definitely a few cans short of a six-pack.”
“I’m on it,” was Steve’s prompt reply.

Then John said, “Ma’am, why don’t we walk over to the gate before these bugs start eating us alive?”

Before the dazed woman could reply, Steve shouted, “Hey John! Here, catch!”

Steve tossed him some bug spray.

“Thanks man!” said John.

When John and the mystery woman reached the now closed gate, John pointed to it and suggested, “Why don’t we go ahead and rest here for a bit.”

John sat down and motioned for the weary woman to do the same. Then, he looked over and forced a smile in a lame attempt to offer some kind of reassurance; however, the woman resumed staring vacantly into the distance, seemingly oblivious to a distant siren piercing its way through the thick summer foliage.

By the time the ambulance arrived, there were now three people sitting on the rusting gate with sweat seeping out of every pore of their bodies. But of the three, the woman was sweating the most profusely, even after John helped her take off her jacket.

“It could be heat exhaustion,” suggested Steve. “Maybe that explains why she’s so disoriented.”

“You might be right,” said John. “I’ll go ahead and tell the EMT when he begins checking her out.”

Instead of rushing over, the EMT approached them with deliberate quickness, most likely relieved to respond to a call on a Saturday evening that didn’t involve binge drinking.

“You guys were right,” said the EMT. “That is a nasty cut. Looks like she’ll be needing a few stitches.” The EMT knelt down in front of the woman and smiled. “My name’s Brian. I’m going to go ahead and check you out. What’s your name ma’am?”

However, the woman remained silent. Looking back over his shoulder as if for clarification, the EMT was greeted with a shrug of Steve’s shoulders before skillfully going about cleaning and dressing the wound. Then, the EMT pulled out a pen-sized flashlight.

“Ma’am,” he continued, “I need you to follow my finger.” Then, after half a minute, he said, “Hmmm. It looks like you suffered a mild concussion. No problem though. We’ll get you squared away.”

After his diagnosis, the EMT returned his attention to the increasingly restless mountain bikers.

“Everything’s under control,” he assured. “She’ll be fine. She’s just a little shaken up is all. You guys can go ahead and take off. Once again, thanks for calling it in.”

~o~O~o~

A doctor stepped out of an examination room and said to a nurse, “Let’s go ahead and keep her overnight for observation.”

“Okay,” replied the nurse, “but what do you make of this?” She held up the woman’s faded journal. “I had to practically pry it out of her hands.”

The doctor tucked his clipboard under his arm before inquiring, “What do you mean?”

While handing him the journal, she elaborated further.

“Take a look at the entries.”

She tapped the upper right corner of one of the pages and raised her left eyebrow, to which the doctor initially replied with a furrowing of his brow.

“Huh,” he began, “that certainly is very odd. Just when I’d thought I’d seen everything. Good penmanship though. I wish my handwriting was that good.”

“Do you think perhaps she needs to be under psychiatric observation?” wondered the nurse.

“She seems harmless enough for the time being,” asserted the doctor. “We can make that determination in the morning when he’s more cognizant and we find out who she is.” He yawned and leaned against the wall. “It’s strange that she doesn’t have a purse or any kind of ID on her person. Oh well. Either her family will call or the police will sort everything out tomorrow…And that concludes an otherwise surprisingly dull evening.”

“I just hope it stays that way after you leave,” said the nurse. “Good night doctor.”

“Good night Janice.”

~o~O~o~

The next morning, a police officer rode the elevator to the second floor of the hospital to visit a woman whom no one seemed to miss. He exited and casually strolled up to the nurse’s station like he had been there countless times before.

Leaning on the counter, he smiled and said, “Which room is our Jane Doe staying in?”

“Room four Danny,” said the nurse supervisor, looking up only momentarily from some scheduling she was working out.

About a minute later, the officer came rushing back down the hall.

“I thought you said she was in room four?” exclaimed the breathless officer.

“She was there about an hour ago,” snapped the nurse in response to the officer’s accusing eyes.
“Damn it!” She picked up the phone and said, “Secure the building. A patient has gone missing…It’s the Jane Doe from last night…Yeah…For about an hour…Yes, I agree. She definitely had some help.” She slammed the phone down and fumed. “Damn it!” she hissed. “This kind of shit isn’t supposed to happen around here…at least not on my watch.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” said Danny. “This isn’t the first time I’ve seen this and this isn’t the first hospital either. Like you said, “She definitely had help. But we’ll get to the bottom of this and find out exactly who. So, don’t you worry. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve gotta go and coordinate the search with security.”

~o~O~o~

Adjacent to the first floor front entrance, eyeing the doors like a hawk, stood a security guard. But he shifted his attention upon hearing the squeaking of new shoes against bright white tile

“Based on the expression of your face, I take it you haven’t had any luck, huh Danny.”

With hands in his pockets, Danny let out a dejected sigh.

“Nope,” he said. “I just don’t understand it. We’ve searched the entire building and not a sign of her.” After forcing a laugh, he observed, “Just another Jane Doe. Piece of cake, right?”

“She definitely had some assistance,” assured the guard.

“The question is, who? But I suppose we’ll know soon enough. We’ve already begun interviewing some of the staff and we’ll know more when we review the security footage; in the meantime, I’ve got to step outside and check my messages.”

The officer walked out onto the bright concrete and turned on his phone. No sooner did he turn it on, than it insistantly beeped at him.

Call me immediately. Detective Morris.

“Yes sir. What’s the news? Uh-huh. Uh-huh. What? Is she sure? Really? But that’s impossible… Yeah, I’m sure there’s a rational explanation…Yes sir. I’m on it.”

The police officer walked back in, scratching the growing bald patch on his head all the while.

“Hey Jack,” said Danny to the guard. “I gotta bounce. Looks like we got a lead.”

“See you later Danny. I’ll hold down the fort while you’re gone.”

---

Chapter 2

A young man in shorts and a gray t-shirt set down two bags of groceries in front of his apartment door and fumbled for the keys in his deep pocket.

The key turned smoothly in the recently greased lock. Then, he picked up the cloth bags and kicked the swollen door open and was met by a blast of warm and stale air.

Dumping the bags on the faded veneer of the countertop in a kitchen in desperate need of a makeover, he left the screen door open to allow nature’s air conditioning to rush in.

His phone rang while setting the timer for the window unit a/c. Instead of answering, he peeled off the damp t-shirt from his lean body and savored the tree cooled air rushing in. Then, the young man collapsed onto a folding chair in the corner. His cell phone beeped, reminding him of the recent call.

Give me a call. Dad.

“What’s up Dad?” said the student.

I’m just calling to check on you. How are you doing son?

“How am I doing? I’ll tell you how I’m doing: confused.”

How’s that?

“Dad, try not to freak out or anything, but a police officer showed up mid-morning asking some questions. Don’t worry. I’m not in trouble with the law or anything.”

Then why did they show up? What did they want?

“They described some older woman to me that escaped from a hospital and asked me if I’d seen her. It was weird. The officer kept looking at me funny the whole time.”

I suppose stranger things have happened. I’m just glad it wasn’t anything serious.

“You and me both! A little excitement on an otherwise dull day, the macroscopic version of the uncertainty principle at work.”

Speaking of uncertainty, are you still considering graduate school?

“I don’t know. Sometimes I feel that four years is long enough.”

Well, don’t put it off too long. You’ve got a narrow window and…

“I know. I know. I wish you wouldn’t bug me about it. You’ll be the first to know when I know.”

Look, I’m not trying to sound like a broken record or anything. It’s just a gentle reminder. I mean, you’ve got the grades and I’m sure some recommendations won’t be hard to come by…Anyway, it’s up to you and I’ll be proud no matter which career path you choose.

“I know, dad. I know.”

So, what else is going on?

“Work mostly and some tutoring on the side,” he said in an indifferent tone of voice.

So, you’re all set money-wise?

He rolled his eyes and let out a sigh.

“Yeah Dad, I’m good for the time being.”

I’m just asking son. If you ever find yourself in a bind for whatever reason, well…your mom and me, we’re here for you.

“I appreciate the offer dad. I really do.”

Okay. Just checking. I suppose now I have to ask the obligatory fatherly questions…Anything else going on? Oh, and by the way, how’s Diane?

“I wouldn’t know. We broke up. I don’t think mom will be upset. I always got the impression she didn’t like her.”

Well, she certainly had a strong opinion about your former girlfriend. Let’s just leave it at that. But don’t worry son, there are plenty of girls out there. You’ll find the right one soon.

“It’s not the finding I have trouble with. It’s the holding on to.” He checked his watch and said, “Look dad, I’ve gotta go. I need to get cleaned up and shove some food in my face. I promised Frank that I'd go to open mike night tonight to see him perform. God help us!”

The student heard some chuckling on the other end.

So, I take it his twisted sense of humor is still intact. Well, have fun…Okay son, I’ll go ahead and let you go then.

“I'll try! Talk to you later Dad.”

Okay son. I love you. Bye!

“Love you too. Bye.”

~o~O~o~

The student sat at a round table in a poorly lit bar with a not so sweet smell to it. He was thankful that he was 21 and could consume copious amounts of alcohol to dull the pain of some of the previous less than stellar performances.

He set his beer down on the chipped table with its stubborn coating of grease despite a cursory wipe by a waitress with a dingy rag from a dingy bucket full of graying bleach water.

The previous ‘up and coming comic’ was overweight and had decided to incorporate the novel idea of making jokes about his girth and pathetic love life.

“Let’s give it up for Mikey,” said a vaguely enthused man with a fake smile which barely concealed an empathetic expression of embarrassment at such a poor performance.

The fat comic limped dejectedly off of the stage to the sound of weak applause coming from an audience that was steadily shrinking like the population of a European town during the Black Plague years.

The announcer livened up when he said, “Next up ladies and gentleman, you will have the privilege of listening to the delightfully depressing rantings of a regular fixture around here. Please give it up for Frank C!”

There was a noticeable change in the demeanor of the audience when Frank C. burst onto the stage. They collectively rose up from their slumped positions, but not because they anticipated a great routine. They seemed to be more interested in all of his piercings and tattoos.

“What’s up y’all? It’s good to be back on stage!” He peered into an audience that seemed about as lively as a group of mental patients on Thorazine. “Ah. I see some familiar faces working on their Saturday morning hangovers…You know, the other day, I was thinking about my first time on stage and how terrifying it was. I remember I told a friend about my trouble and he said, ‘you need to get Buddhist and try some meditation and shit to calm your nerves.’ I was like, that sounds cool. But then I started thinking about how much time and money I would have to invest. I mean, buying books and DVDs and taking classes seemed like way to much work! I’m not going to lie to you. I’m lazy and I want a quick fix. I am an American after all. So, I was like, screw meditation. I need to find something easier. And I did. And now I would like to share my wisdom with you. Anti-anxiety meds and a whiskey chaser. I’m tellin’ you, that’s the shit! That’s what I was doin’ back stage. My philosophy is to self-medicate the hell out of yourself. After all, we live in the era of the internet, and who needs a psychiatrist to write prescriptions anyway? Do some research. Find out how fucked up you are and what kind of fucked up you are. Then get your own shit.”

“Man, I don’t know where I’d be without meds. I take anti-depressants every day. I know y’all are ‘shocked’ to learn that I take anti-depressants. Some people need their coffee or their cigarettes to get them through their day. All I need are my happy pills…and coffee and cigarettes. I hate using a crutch but I don’t want to be the asshole that blows his brains out over the holidays. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year everyone! Nothing like a lively funeral to ring in January, the most God-awful depressing month of the year.”

“But seriously folks, suicide is not something to joke about. However, what is funny is some of the stupid shit that people say to people to try and talk them out of it. Take for instance the man on the ledge. There’s always some well intentioned dick in the crowd below that has to say the obligatory ‘Don’t jump. You’ve got everything to live for!’ At which point I want to say, ‘hey asshole! If he had everything to live for, he wouldn’t be threatening to become a flattened bloody spot on the pavement ten stories below. In fact, I think if you shout it again, he may get so pissed off that he might actually come down to kick your ass; in which case I take back what I said and say congratulations on using your stupidity to talk him down.’”

He paused for a few moments to take a few sips of water as the applause died down.

“Shit. I’m sorry. I really went off on a tangent there!” He looked thoughtful before continuing. “Allow me to lighten things up and talk about something less depressing before I go.” He scratched his stubble before saying, “I’ve got it! How about global warming and the fact that we’re on the verge of catastrophic climate change? Oh man, I feel really bad for my kids and my children’s children. We’ve fucked them over pretty thoroughly don’t you think? I admit it. I’ve been part of the problem…You know, sometimes I think about conversations people are going to have in the future. Do you guys ever think about some of the depressing conversations people are going to have later on? No? Well then, picture this: it’s around 2100-long after I’m dead (thank God) and things have gone to shit-and a father has his daughter on his lap and they’re looking through some pictures of when he was young-or holographic images or whatever cool shit is going to be available in the future.”

“The daughter says, ‘Is that really you Daddy?’”

“To which he replies,” ‘Yes honey. That’s me with Mickey Mouse when I was your age.’ Then she says, ‘Ooh! Can I go to see Mickey Mouse too? I’ve been a very good girl this year!’

“Then, the father shakes his head, wondering why he brought this up in the first place. He says, ‘Sorry honey, but Disneyland has been under water since 2075! But don’t worry. We can always go to one of the Six Flags that’s over fifty feet above sea level!’”

“I’ve just got one last thing before I go.” He got down on his knees and pleaded, “Oh please God, tell me there’s no such thing as reincarnation!” Jumping to his feet to the sound of mild applause, he shouted, “Thank you! You guys have been great. Peace!”

After he walked off stage and shook the announcer’s hand, he went over to the bar and got a mixed drink. Then he strolled on over to the young man’s table.

“Hey man,” said the young man. “You kicked ass tonight!”

He gave him a fist bump.

“With me," replied Frank, "it’s like the firing of a neuron; either all or nothing."

“Sometimes I wish I had the balls to get up on stage like you.”

“And I’d like to be a brilliant scientist like you,” retorted Frank. “But alas, everyone always wants to be someone else.”

I squirmed in my seat a little upon hearing his remark about wanting to be someone else. However, seemingly oblivious of my self-conscious move, he simply took a swig of his drink. But what he wasn’t oblivious to was the fact that now the young man was gazing over his shoulder at another table.

“What’s up?” wondered Frank. “Are you looking at some hot chick?”

“Maybe I am,” was the cryptic reply of the young man. “The girl two tables away isn’t bad looking.”

“Why don’t you go talk to her,” he suggested after nonchalantly glancing over his shoulder.

“Nah, I don’t think so. To tell you the truth Frank, she seems more interested in you. But God only knows why!” teased the young man.

“Very funny my friend,” was Frank’s rather lame retort. “But it’s quite obvious she can’t resist my bad boy good looks!” He finished his drink before adding, “What the hell. I’ll go talk to her. I’m in between girlfriends anyway.”

“Dude, you’re always in between girlfriends.”

“So, are you gonna jet or stick around for the scenery for a while longer?”

“No. I gotta go. I’ve got to get up early tomorrow.”

“Still into the whole cycling thing I take it.”

“Yep. Endorphins are still my drug of choice. Anyway, best of luck with your next ‘victim.’”

“Good night my lightweight friend,” retorted Frank.

“Night Frank,” responded the young man, with a casual wave.

The student weaved his way out of the bar after stealing one more glance in the cute blonde’s direction.

Is she the one? Is she the one who’s finally gonna straighten me out?

He could only hope that the affections of this young woman could end the war in his my mind that had been raging for as long as he could remember, tearing him apart.

~o~O~o~

As was typical, the next morning, the young man’s alarm clock was unnecessary. The light seeping in between the slats of the blinds covering his east facing bedroom windows was as effective as a slap in the face.

He pressed a button on the superfluous clock radio and went about his expedited routine so he would only have to brave the humidity and not the building heat of late morning.

He was hesitant to walk into the closet, but he had to grab his Shimano cycling shoes. He tried not to look after he bent down to pick them up, but a certain article of clothing seemed to be calling to him. He caught sight of the pretty sundress with its blue floral pattern peeking out from behind a winter coat and his heart fluttered. It took everything within him to repress the nearly overwhelming desire to put it on along with the matching blue flats. No, he told himself. ‘Girl time’ would just have to wait, for indulging in a little ‘girl time’ was his way of rewarding himself for getting his exercise in, for being a ‘good girl,’ as we was fond of referring to himself.

After stoically resisting his previous urges, he walked into the living room, hoping to leave those thoughts buried in the back of the closet along with his neglected free weights.

After a quick breakfast consisting of yogurt and a granola bar, he hopped on his carbon fiber bike and burrowed his way through the tepid mass of motionless air, headed toward the start of his usual thirty mile route, hoping that he could escape his desperate girlish longings…for a little while at least. But if anything, they had just gotten more intense as of late, in defiance of his best efforts to suppress them.

Forty-five minutes into his ride, he still had not escaped those confusing thoughts, but there was one solution. And that solution involved a little suffering. Now it was time to turn the intensity up a notch. Turning up his iPod as if it would drown out his tormenting thoughts, he sprinted up a long hill with a moderate gradient. Big-ringing it the whole way, he went as fast uphill as most people go downhill. The engine was warm and his legs were firing like pistons, and those earlier thoughts, although still there, were at least mercifully relegated to the background.

Still relishing the escape that this perfectly hard ride afforded him and the delightful feeling of hard earned sweat dripping off of his chin, he came around a bend, but he didn’t see it until it was too late. There was glass in the bike lane which had spilled over onto the road. He swerved to avoid it. And although his front tire narrowly avoided it, his youthful reflexes were not quite fast enough to guide his rear tire out of harm’s way.

Hiss!

115 psi worth of air gushed out of the wounded tire, along with any hope of continuing the perfect ride.

“Fuck me!” he exclaimed.

He set his bike down on the browning grass and unzipped his flat pack and rummaged through it.

“What the hell? Where is it?”

He frantically fumbled for the spare inner tube but it was missing.

“Shit! I know I packed it. I just know I did! Great. Just fucking great! Now I gotta walk my ass all the way to the bike shop.”

He walked awkwardly for a few minutes in his cycling shoes before acquiescing to the soreness in his legs caused by such an unusual gate. With eyes still burning with anger, he marched onward with only the thin padding of his socks to protect him from a road surface in need of some repaving.

“If I ever find the son of a bitch redneck asshole who threw his beer bottle in the bike lane, I’m going to kick his ass!”

Much farther up the road, as the young man was grumbling his way along, the cute blonde from the bar was having some bad luck as well. She pulled her phone out of the back pocket of her jersey and sighed as she hit the speed dial button.

“Sorry to wake you,” she began, “but one of my spokes popped and I need to be picked up…Yeah. I’m near the intersection of Spring and Centerville Road…See you soon! Thanks. I really appreciate it!”

Ten minutes later, a red late model pickup truck pulled over onto the shoulder. A young man got out. He grabbed the bike and carefully placed the expensive machine in the lined bed.

~o~O~o~

A bell rung as the young man, the one who didn’t drive the pickup truck, pushed open the glass door of a recently opened bike shop. An employee emerged from the back, still holding onto a pedal wrench. Coincidentally, It was one of the mountain bikers who had discovered the disoriented middle-aged woman.

“Can I help…” began the employee. “Oh, it’s you. How’s it going Chris? What brings you in on this fine morning?”

“A flat tire if you can believe that.”

“Oh, you forgot to pack a spare. Bummer.”

“I didn’t forget,” snapped the young man. “It just…Oh never mind. Well, while I’m here, I might as well get two or three.”

Chris leisurely made his way to the back, past the pink and lavender women’s cycling jerseys that seemed to be mocking him. With an accompanying growl, he snatched the appropriate size tubes from a shelf in front of the work area. Then, he walked back to the front where the employee had positioned himself behind the counter. While being rung up, they made the usual chit chat.

“So where’s John?” asked Chris.

“He’s competing in a mountain bike race out west.”

“Oh, that’s right, I remember him mentioning that. Maybe I should do some more mountain biking. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about broken glass in the bike lane.”

“At least you didn’t pop a spoke.” The employee leaned forward and smiled. “It’s too bad you didn’t get a flat until you were farther down the road. Then maybe you could have been here for a little eye candy!”

“Oh?” wondered Chris.

The employee grinned and said, “About thirty minutes ago, this hot blond chick came in. She’s the one that popped a spoke. I decided to open up the shop a little early for her. If I didn’t have a girlfriend, I would definitely try to hit that. Damn she was tight!”

John suppressed a shudder and tried very hard to ensure the disgust he was feeling at the employee’s crude comment didn’t manifest itself on his face. He buried his anger and managed the expected smile, deciding it best to simply stick to the script of expected ‘bro talk.’

“I think that’s what you said about Julie about six months ago,” chided Chris.

“Has it really been that long? Wow, time really flies when you’re keeping busy…And the two of us are certainly keeping busy if you know what I mean.” He raised an eyebrow and grinned.

Chris forced a smile even though he wanted to stick his finger in his mouth at yet another offensive comment. The employee’s grin faded and he continued on.

“Alright Chris, I’ve gotta get back to work. Feel free to use the bike stand in the back if you want.”

“Cool. Thanks man.”

After a quick change, Chris was back on his bike for a short and leisurely ride back home. At least, that was the plan. It may have looked leisurely to any casual passerby, but inside, he was suffering as much from conflicting emotions as he had suffered physically up the climb before the flat. All he could think about were those pretty cycling jerseys at the bike shop and how he longed to wear them so he could declare to the world who he really was.

No! Stop it! Chris buddy, stop torturing yourself with such thoughts. It’s never going to happen anyway. You’re a guy, remember? You’re a guy, so stop being such a pussy and man up!

But such protests were ineffectual. And soon he was powerless to stop the fantasies from marching into the forefront of consciousness, the most irresistible of which involved being a fully transitioned pretty girl and wearing the equally pretty sundress from his closet while holding hands with a cute boy and watching the sunset on a perfect summer evening.

The look of disgust that he had so desperately wanted to wear back at the bike shop suffused across his face and he immediately dismissed such a ridiculous fantasy.

He looked up and shouted, “Damn it! If only Diane and I hadn’t broken up. Then everything would be fine.”

He was desperate for any reason, and the most popular one was finding the right girl, a girl in whose presence he wouldn’t feel the need to dress anymore, a girl who would fill the void of the femininity he so desired in his life. He clung to that rationale as helplessly as a southerner clutching a fall jacket to his body during an arctic outbreak.

---

Chapter 3

The following Saturday was just like any other Saturday and thankfully unlike the previous Saturday. He didn’t have the perfect morning ride, but at least he had a fairly good lid on those disturbing thoughts of his. And that was still the case around 9:30am when he strolled into his favorite coffee shop.

Chris didn’t even notice the oft talked about blonde woman from open mike night until after he slid the cardboard sleeve over his Grande latte. Then he started to contemplate his options as he blew on the hot liquid, but his lips froze mid blow. Instead of contemplating, he was suddenly captivated by this vision who was still in her cute cycling shorts and pretty pink Pearl Izumi jersey. Chris’ heart fluttered as he surveyed every feminine inch. But along with that surge from his heart, there was that feeling of something not being quite right. Was he in love with her? Was it love at first sight, or was he in love with the idea of looking like her? He tried to shake off his confusion as quickly as he was trying to cool down his latte.

Maybe I should go talk to her. After all, it’s been over a month since the breakup with Diane.

Before he had a chance to brush his hair back and summon his characteristic pseudo-confidence reserved for occasions such as these, he stopped dead in his tracks. Frank had apparently struck out that night at the club, but this guy had managed to weasel his way into her life.

“Sorry I’m late,” said a tall muscular man who sat down next to her.

Damn! If I didn’t have bad luck, I wouldn’t have any luck at all.

Chris didn’t like this guy at all, not his carefully disheveled hair, nor his deliberate presentation of two days worth of beard stubble. Did this guy honestly think he was like some of those models who were too cool to shave?

Deciding to sit at a table adjacent to them while pretending to read a newspaper, he went about the very unlady-like act of eavesdropping.

“So,” began the mystery stud, “you’re a theater major,” he added, pretending to hang on her every word.

“Yes. I changed my major and transferred here. They have a better program and I’m closer to home.”

“Cool. Maybe I could come to one of your plays sometime.”

“We’re currently rehearsing Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.”

“Tennessee Williams, right? The only plays I’ve seen are poorly staged dramas by high school students. It’ll be nice to see some good acting for a change.”

Chris couldn’t take it anymore. He was growing weary of pretending to check his watch as if he was meeting someone for coffee. Feeling increasingly self conscious, he abruptly got up and stalked out the door.

After arriving home, he checked his inbox while finishing his now lukewarm latte. Having one of those “speaking of the devil” moments, right below an email from a student who wanted to reschedule a tutoring appointment was a message from Diane.

Chris scratched his head while the cursor hovered over the delete button.

“What the hell does she want?”

His finger hovered over the mouse button, but curiosity finally got the best of him. He read the brief message.

I know this is out of the blue, but I was thinking maybe we should give it one more try. I’m going to see that new indie film at the old theater on Main Street.I’ll be going to the 7:15 show. Feel free to join me. If not, I understand.

Diane.

Deleting the message with every intention of blowing her off, he was angry and confused. His first thought was why now? He hadn’t heard a peep after that terrible incident back at his apartment when she had discovered some lingerie, his lingerie. Diane had assumed it was another girl’s, the slut he had been seeing on the sly, and Chris just let her assume away, for he was equally terrified of telling her the embarrassing truth about his cross dressing. But against his better judgment, he figured what the hell; after all, it was more difficult being alone than he had anticipated.

~o~O~o~

Standing in the lobby of the theater, Chris checked his watch again.

It’s after 7:20. Where is she?

He knew Diane usually ran a few minutes behind, but the theater was less than a ten minute walk from her apartment, even at a woman’s pace in high heels which she was probably wearing being the high maintenance girl she was.

She never showed and he felt like an idiot for standing and waiting for her for almost fifteen minutes. Since he had already paid six dollars for the ticket he figured he might as well see the movie anyway.

The boring plot of the very “too close to the depressing nature of reality” indie film lulled him to sleep. He awoke to the sensation of a couple brushing past him. He got up and dragged his body toward the front exit.

When he got home, he collapsed into the couch, picked up his Nook, and started rereading Dune.

Beep! Beep!

He picked up his phone off the coffee table. It was Diane. What the hell did she want? Did she call to apologize? Anger surged within him once more.

“That bitch had better have a good excuse!” he muttered.

But he was more dumbfounded than angry when he read the message.

You asshole! How dare you stand me up like that! No one stands me up like that.

“Jesus Christ! She’s gone around the bend.”

He turned his cell phone off, knowing there wasn’t any incentive in trying to argue with her. He simply didn’t have that kind of energy.

No longer in the mood for reading, he set the e-reader down and drifted off to sleep.

~o~O~o~

It was shaping up to be a beautiful late afternoon Friday. Chris walked out through the glass door of the restaurant where he waited tables and looked to the east to the departing gray line of storms and dim flashes of lightning. It was certainly going to be an excellent night for stargazing indeed.

A few minutes later, he reached the employee lot and climbed into his old Honda. He tossed his apron and vest onto the passenger-side seat and zipped on home with an exhilarating feeling of temporary freedom.

His good feelings were interrupted when the incident from the theater crept back into his mind. He hadn’t heard a peep from her in over five days. So much the better he thought. However, on one level, the quietness disturbed him. Was she secretly plotting to get even for some imagined wrong he had done her? At this point, based on their history together, he wouldn’t put it past her.

~o~O~o~

Chris kicked back on the couch, turned on the television, and counted his money again.

“Eighty dollars. Not bad for a weekday afternoon. Not bad for six hours worth of work!”

Time flew as he watched some episodes of Battlestar Galactic-the re-imagined version of course-to distract himself from any unpleasantness in his life.

At around 8:00pm, he dialed the observatory number just to be sure. The automated message indeed confirmed that the observatory would be open to the public. Then he texted his friend Frank.

See you in ten minutes.

Chris.

Frank had decided to take his new girlfriend of the month for a romantic evening of stargazing, and since his car was in the shop, Chris had agreed to give him a ride.

Chris grabbed his sketch pad, his wallet, his keys, and bug spray.

Cruising down the road with the windows open and enjoying his new Taylor Swift CD, he had one of those minor ‘oh shit’ moments.

“Shoot! I forgot my cell phone.” He checked his rearview at the long stretch of road behind him. “Screw it. I’m not going back for it. I probably won’t need it anyway.”

~o~O~o~

The tires of his car scraped up against the curb in front of Frank’s apartment unit at 8:45. Chris glanced at his watch, waited a couple of minutes, and then politely honked his horn a couple of times.

Frank and his girlfriend came out ten seconds later, hand-in-hand, laughing and talking.

Frank walked over to the driver’s side window with a goofy grin on his face.

“Dude, all you had to do was shoot me a text. Honking the horn is so twentieth century.”

Chris simply shrugged his shoulders and said, “I’m sans cell phone and I was too lazy to walk up the steps. Hop in. Let’s get going.”

They rode in the backseat for a little privacy and Chris kept the music at a reasonable volume. The whole way, while Frank and his “flavor of the month” girlfriend were captivated by each other’s eyes, Chris kept fighting the urge to check the rearview to catch a glimpse of Frank’s happy date, because every time he acquiesced, he felt a twinge of jealousy seeing her lovely shoulder length black hair and petite frame with ample bosom; he felt envy looking at her dangly heart shaped earrings; and he felt his heart flutter at the reflection of her miniskirt, pink tank top, and matching pink nail polish. But mostly, he felt angry that he would never know the feeling of being held in strong arms like those of Frank or having his passion-pink full lips kissed as passionately as hers. He fought back the tears welling up and decided to keep his eyes on the road.

~o~O~o~

It was twilight by the time Chris made a right onto the narrow country road that led to the relatively small yet adequate observatory.

“Keep an eye out for the gravel road on the right,” urged Chris. It’s easy to miss.”

A quarter of a mile up the road, he steered the car onto the coarse gravel road and the car soon lurched to a stop.

Chris frowned as he looked at the backseat.

“I’ll get the gate since you two seem to be…” He cleared his throat. “… a little busy.”

The gate creaked open. Then Chris climbed back in and drove the car through it, remembering to close it behind him. Next, he slowly drove up the steep hill toward the silhouetted dome, going over the potholes as gingerly as possible to make it as easy as he could on the car’s aged suspension and his back as well.

Everyone got out of the car into the breezy evening to the smell of freshly cut grass and the distant sound of a lawn mower still humming away its summer song.

“Isn’t this beautiful Maggie?” observed Frank.

“It’s so peaceful,” she said.

They began walking the short distance when Chris said, “I forgot my sketch pad. I’ll be right back. Don’t wait for me.”

The windows of the car were still rolled down and there was nothing to worry about except an occasional stray cow or deer. He leaned in through the passenger side and grabbed his sketch pad before turning around and being confronted by the glare of headlights.

Not going to be many people tonight.

Chris walked in through the low doorway and made his way up the spiral staircase to the sound of crunching gravel behind him.

One half-dozen more late comers joined Maggie, Frank, and Chris. Twilight soon faded into night and the computerized Meade telescope whirred to life. The metal roof opened, revealing the new celestial ceiling.

Their guide for the evening was an astrophysics graduate student, and she took them on the standard guided tour which included the obligatory breathtaking view of Jupiter and its moons as well as some open star clusters. After that, she was as open as some as the star clusters to any suggestions from her visitors.

“How about we take a look at the Andromeda Galaxy,” said Chris.

“Sure,” said the graduate student. She went over to the computer and scrolled through a menu, hit a button, and the telescope whirred to life once more. It slewed quickly at first, and then it slowed as the fine adjustment motors locked in on the blurry speck of light. The woman went over to the telescope and adjusted the focus to the faint hum of the tracking motors as they followed the westward journey of the galaxy through the night sky.

“Okay,” announced. “The best way to get a good look at it is to not look at it directly. Avert your gaze and be patient. Occasionally the atmosphere will settle down enough so your eyes can resolve more structure.”

Chris was patient. He let everyone else have a view before he made a quick sketch himself.

The next suggestion regarding what to observe came from Frank, who was apparently attempting to impress his date with his knowledge of astronomy.

“Can we take a look at the Ring Nebula?” he wondered.

As usual, Chris made his sketch. Their guide explained that over four billion years from now, our solar system would suffer the same fate after the sun exhausts its core supply of hydrogen, expands into a Red Giant, and then sheds its outer layers, leaving behind a stellar corpse known as a white dwarf.

“That reminds me of a quote I think you might like,” said Chris, looking away from the eyepiece.

The finer part of mankind will, in all likelihood, never perish-they will migrate from sun to sun as they go out. And so there is no end to life, to intellect and the perfection of humanity. Its progress is everlasting.

“Wow, that’s really beautiful!” said Maggie. “Who said that by the way?”

“I don’t remember,” replied Chris. “It’s from my quote of the day calendar that my parents got me, but I can’t for the life of me remember.”

“It’s Tsiolkovsky,” said a quiet yet familiar voice coming from the darkness of the perimeter.

“She’s right,” said the guide, glancing up from the computer.

“Hey, I think I know you,” said the young woman stepping out of the shadows.

“You’ve probably seen me around campus,” said Chris. “You look familiar too. I think I remember you from open mike night. Weren’t you the girl who sang that Katy Perry song? You were pretty good by the way. All you needed was a blue wig.”

She laughed softly, grateful that the dimness concealed her blushing face no doubt.

“Thanks,” she said modestly.

“My name is Chris by the way.”

“My name’s Sarah.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” said Chris.

Indeed, it was a pleasure for him knowing that her voice was as sweet as she was pretty and modest.

“Umm…” continued Chris. “Let you me go ahead and introduce you to my dimly lit friends over in the corner there.”

“This is…”

Before Chris could finish, Sarah said, “Hi Frank. I didn’t think I’d see you here. I didn’t think this was your kind of thing.”

“Well I’m full of surprises,” he replied with a nervous laugh.

His girlfriend Maggie hit him in the bicep.

“What did you do that for Maggie?” protested Frank. “It’s no big deal,” he whispered. “I was just hanging out with Chris at open mike night.”

Sarah stifled a laugh and Chris couldn’t help but giggle as well.

Chris said, “It was nice to meet you Sarah… But I think it’s time for my friends and me to hit the road. I have to make sure I get to bed at a reasonable hour so I can drag my body out of bed early enough tomorrow.”

“For work?” wondered Sarah.

“For a bike ride.”

“Yeah, me too,” said Sarah. “I like to get out and ride before everyone else gets up.”

“So maybe I’ll see you on the road sometime or at the coffee shop afterwards,” noted Chris. “Sometimes I hang out there after a ride.”

“Oh, that’s why you look so familiar. Yeah, you just might. Nothing like some caffeine to flush out some of the soreness...Well, good night…Chris.”

Sarah smiled before retreating into the darkness once more.

Chris studied her as she descended the staircase, picturing her beautiful smile the entire time. The breathtaking celestial sights he’d seen tonight seemed to pale in comparison to the glow she had about her. And that glow made him hopeful again, even in spite of his confusing thoughts during the drive over, for he had a feeling that she was the one, the one that would set him straight so to speak so that he could finally put all of that girlish nonsense to rest once and for all.

Frank walked over and slapped him on the back.

“I think its love at first sight man,” he said, half-jokingly.

“Only time will tell, my friend. Only time will tell.”

~o~O~o~

As luck would have it, Sarah just happened to be at the coffee shop the next morning after Chris had finished a rather miserable ride in the pouring rain during the last half of his ride.

He limped dejectedly into the coffee shop; however, his face lit up at the sight of her sitting alone, and he forgot about being drenched earlier that morning. But his enthusiasm was tempered by the possibility of another man coming in out of the rain to join her.

Chris waved at her. “Hey Sarah, do you mind if I join you?”

“Uh…okay,” she said.

They got to chatting about their respective lives, with Chris pretending that he was learning about her being a theater major for the first time.

“So what exactly is a two minute drill?” he wondered.

“Basically it goes like this: acting doesn’t happen in a vacuum. You need to put everything into context so you fully understand your character’s motivation. And by the way,” she said with a laugh, “it doesn’t take two minutes to do.”

As she was breaking down the rest of the exercise for him, a middle aged woman neither of them had ever seen before walked in and bought a cup of coffee. It was the same woman that had been admitted to the hospital after the mountain bikers found her in the clearing. And for some reason, the cashier had greeted this rather unremarkable woman with a perplexed look on her face.

The mystery woman walked past Chris and Sarah with her back toward them. Then, she sat down at a table at the other end of the coffee shop. Occasionally, she peered over the newspaper she was reading, watching them closely.

“So I was thinking,” said Chris. “I was wondering if perhaps you might want to hang out some time. You know, maybe grab something to eat.”

“Sure,” she said.

“How about next Friday?” he suggested.

“Let me think…No, Friday’s no good for me, what with work and rehearsal for the play. How about Thursday?”

“Yeah, I think I could probably do Thursday. I’ll go ahead and send you a text with all of the details.”

“Sounds good,” replied Sarah. “I look forward to it.”

Chris was on cloud nine after they said their goodbyes. And in this wonderful moment, he completely forgot about the nasty text message sent by Diane, but not for long.

Demonstrating Murphy’s Law in action, his heart raced at the sight of Diane waiting in line. Thankfully, she was oblivious to their chance meeting, for she was still absorbed in perusing the menu.

Oh shit! I hope she doesn’t see me.

Practically on the tiptoes of his rigid carbon fiber cycling shoes, he tried to slink out the door while she was ordering, but she caught a glimpse of his reflection in the glass in front of the pastries.

She whipped her head around and shot him a withering glare.

“You’ve got some nerve buddy!” hissed Diane, with acid dripping from every word.

She gave him the middle finger.

At that moment, it was either fight or flight. And Chris chose flight. All he could think to do was rush out the door, all the while realizing that this was definitely classic Diane behavior.

~o~O~o~

The next week dragged by, even at work because business was slow. Finally, after what seemed like an interminable amount of time, Thursday arrived. After pacing around the apartment for over an hour while listening to music, Chris decided to send Sarah a text that he was on his way.

He opened up the drawer where he kept his phone, but it was missing. He frantically searched for it elsewhere, even checking his flat pack on the off chance he had forgotten to take it out after a ride.

“No problem. I’ll just use my land line.”

He picked up the receiver and was dumbfounded to find out there was no dial tone. The first thing he did was to check to see if the cord was plugged into the jack, and it was.

“What the fuck! I know I paid the bill this month.”

Then, a thought occurred to him: maybe there was an outage again because some careless construction worker had accidentally cut the line with a backhoe.

“That’s probably what happened,” he assured himself.

It wasn’t too long until he had shrugged off the incident. Now he was checking his appearance one last time in the mirror before he headed out the door.

But when he reached the parking lot, he encountered a surprise that was far more shocking than the phone incident.

“You gotta be shittin’ me!” he exclaimed as he approached his car.

Chris’ poor old car had all of the tires slashed; and as if that wasn’t enough retribution for the perpetrator, the asshole had keyed both sides of his car. After surveying the damage, only one question remained, a question that burned as much as his anger: What psycho would do this to an innocent person? However, he didn’t have to ponder the identity of the mysterious vandal for long, for he could only think of one person so viciously bent on revenge.

He clenched his fist and shouted, “I bet it was that bitch Diane!”

As his rage subsided, panic overtook him and he broke out into a cold sweat at the realization that he had no way to get in touch with Sarah to tell her about the cascade of misfortunes he had suffered so far this evening. But there was one potential solution. As it dawned on him, he rushed back up the stairs of his apartment unit to the second floor. Then he banged on the second door from the right. Unfortunately, his string of bad luck continued. It seemed no one was home.

Chris retreated to the stairs and sat down on the top step. With slumped posture characteristic of the dejected wreck he had become, he pondered the matter further. But things didn’t look good. The nearest pay phone was in town and the next bus wouldn’t arrive for another forty-five minutes because of reduced service during the summer.

He threw up his arms in desperation and slowly walked back downstairs. However, he experienced a surge of hope realizing he could ride his bike to the nearest pay phone. Although he might smell a little gamy on his date, at least he’d arrive, sparing himself from incurring the wrath of yet another rejected female.

He sighed as he brought the key to the deadbolt lock, but it wouldn’t slide in easily as usual. He tried his best to force it in, but to no avail. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t shove it in more than a quarter of the way in.

Closing one eye and peering in to see what the problem was, he noticed there was some kind of clear resin in the lock. It didn’t take him long to identify the mystery compound because the smell was unmistakable. It was epoxy.

Once again, he sat down on the warm concrete step. But this time, he held his head in his hands and started crying.

“Why me? Why me?” he whined, in between gulps of air. “I’m not a bad person. Why is this happening to me?”

Calming himself down after accepting the hopeless reality of the situation, he resigned himself to embarking on the long walk into downtown.

~o~O~o~

Nearing the top of the last hill before the intersection with Main Street, the gas station came into view.

He inserted two quarters into the neglected pay phone, but realized in his haste, that he had forgotten Sarah’s number. After all, who even bothers to memorize numbers anymore when you can store them in your phone? He sighed, realizing he was a victim of his own mental laziness.

He limped inside and convinced the clerk to let him borrow the phone book and use the store phone.

He flipped through the pages until he came to the letter P. Staring at the multitude of names, he shook his head at the desperate act of futility confronting him.

“Oh great!” he realized. “Her last name is Phillips, and there are only about a thousand Phillips in the phone book! C’est la vie.”

He turned to the business pages and looked up the name of the lessor of his apartment complex. Then he dialed the number, chose the appropriate menu option, and left a message explaining that he needed a locksmith ASAP.

~o~O~o~

It was dark, very dark, when he arrived back at his apartment complex. He sat with his back pressed against the brick and gazed at the night sky, thinking about what he could possibly say to her, to the nice girl who had waited for God only knows how long at the restaurant until returning to her apartment so she could lie down and cry because of his perceived coldness. Then he wondered if it would be possible to salvage the situation. Would the rather complicated truth salvage the situation and let him off the hook? But then again, he wondered if it was even worth it to tell her the truth. Would she even buy such an unlikely story?

Soon, all of his “what-ifs” were interrupted by the glare of head lights approaching his apartment unit. It was a truck with big letters that read Brian’s Locksmith.

He walked out to meet the man and shook his hand. Afterwards, he explained the situation to him as the two of them ascended the steps.

The locksmith took one look and shook his head.

“Epoxy huh? Looks like I’ll have to drill it out.”

He got the necessary tools from his truck and returned.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” began the locksmith, “what did you do to piss her off man?”

“I don’t know,” I conceded. “She’s got this wrong impression in her head I think. I never cheated on her even though she thinks I did. But I don’t think that’s the real reason. Like I said, she’s just got this wrong idea in her head about recent events.”

“Chicks do some crazy things shit, man, especially changing the locks while their boyfriend or husband is away.”

“I guess I should be thankful we never moved in together.”

After he finished, the locksmith said, “If you want my advice, I’d say text her, give her some time to cool off, and then bring her some flowers at an unexpected time.”

“You think that will work?” Chris wondered.

“Based on the story you told me, I don’t know. But it’s worth a shot…Anyway, take care and the best of luck to you.”

“Once again, thanks for coming out so quickly. Good night.”

Luck was definitely something he needed right now, even more than the casual offering of good-intentioned advice from the locksmith.

~o~O~o~

After getting a replacement phone, Chris texted Sarah a couple of times to apologize, because he was just too afraid of the confrontation that might ensue if he surprised her in person. But there was no reply to his texts. Over a week went by and there wasn’t a peep.

Every minute that went by without a reply from Sarah, the more he sought out any kind of comfort in the face of the increasingly hopeless nature of the situation. But finding comfort in food and escape in exercise were no longer cutting it. Chris knew his will power was steadily losing ground to his desperate desire to go exploring in the back of his closet, to do the only thing that had ever given him some small measure of peace in his unhappy life thus far.

Midweek, he reluctantly gave into his urges and walked into the closet. He took the sundress off its pretty pink padded hanger and held it close to his body. In doing so, he closed his eyes and felt the first stirring of peace in his heart. And for most of the rest of the week, whenever he wasn’t working or doing anything school related, he and that dress were practically inseparable.

~o~O~o~

The next Saturday, he took advantage of his usual ride to clear his head, but it was of no help. He couldn’t get Sarah’s beautiful face out of his mind. He longed for her as much as he longed to wear pretty clothes. And those longings gnawed away at him even with the volume of his iPod turned up to drown out such seemingly contradictory desires.

He visited the coffee shop afterwards and waited as long as he could before work to see if she’d show. And to his relief, Sarah came in and purchased some coffee. But when she caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye, she was rushed out.

Late that afternoon, Chris sat in his car in the employee lot with a tight grip on the steering wheel, deciding what course of action to take. Thinking back on what the locksmith had said, he decided he’d swing by the flower shop and pick up some roses. A performance of Sarah’s play was taking place on this night and he figured it would be a good excuse for a nice romantic conciliatory gesture. If she was rendered as helplessly weak in the knees at the beautiful sight of roses as Chris secretly was, then forgiveness was just beyond the horizon.

Chris arrived at his apartment and stepped into the dimly lit one bedroom with its closed blinds. He turned on the light and his heart raced at the sight of the middle aged woman from the park and the coffee shop confronting him from the corner of the room. He dropped the flowers right on the floor and his hands began to shake. Unlike him, she was calm as can be just lounging in the plush chair in the corner.

She was holding a revolver and in a surprisingly calm voice she said, “Please sit down Chris. We need to have a little chat.”

He mindlessly obeyed, not breaking eye contact for one second. And strangely enough, Chris’ eyes were more focused on the woman’s face than the menacing sight of the casually aimed gun.

“Who are you…and why…why…” Chris’ voice trailed off.

“Why I am wearing this lovely pink dress…Your lovely pink sundress?” She began while adjusting the straps of the dress. “I have to admit, it is a little loose. But I imagine I look just a little bit better in it than you do my dear.” She smiled in response to the look of terror in Chris’ eyes at such an embarrassing discovery. “Relax Chris. I know all about you…about the terrible secret that’s been burdening your heart for so long.”

Chris squirmed in his chair before responding in a lamely evasive manner.

“What secret? Look whatever you think you know…”

The woman cut him off with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Don’t…Don’t lie. There’s no need. You’ll only embarrass yourself. Now, even though I know you won’t believe me, your secret is nothing to be ashamed of.” She shook her head as Chris continued to look her up and down with his mouth gaping open. “I know what you’re probably thinking. Who exactly is this rather attractive older lady who happens to look a lot like your mother? You have to admit, the resemblance is uncanny. But before I satisfy your burning curiosity by revealing who I am, let me answer another question which I’m sure you’ve been asking yourself quite a bit as of late: Why have you been having so much bad luck lately?”

Chris shifted from his “at a loss for words” pose to his incredulous pose.

With arms crossed, he said, “Okay. Enlighten me if you would please.”

She cleared her throat and took another sip of Chris’ beer before speaking.
“I suppose you could say that I’ve taken on the role of lady luck as of late. Feel free to blame me because I’m the one that smashed the beer bottle in the bike lane. I snuck into your apartment and stole your spare inner tube. It was me that stole your cell phone and cut the landline. And it was I and not Diane that slashed the tires of your car and gummed up the lock while you were somewhat preoccupied.”

“So it was you that sent me the email and not Diane. Wasn’t it?” he said with mounting anger in his voice.

The woman averted her gaze. “Quite right. And I sent her an email telling her to meet you for the 9:15 show. I am sorry about that. But you have to admit, it was quite clever. It had you thinking it was Diane, didn’t it?”

“Why?” he asked weakly. “Why did you go to all of this trouble just to make my life miserable?”

“Miserable?” she scoffed. “Chris, you and I both know you were miserable long before I began meddling. And I think that what I did qualifies as more of a temporary minor inconvenience.”

“Thanks a lot. Now I probably have zero shot with Sarah. And the worst part is that she wasn’t just some girl. I think she was the girl. Now I may never know.”

The woman rolled her eyes. “Believe me when I say it’s for the best, especially for her.”

“And how would you know?” hissed Chris. “What, are you from the future or something?”

The woman took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, answering Chris’ question with her silence.

“Oh my God,” he began. “You do don’t you? You honestly believe you’re from the future. Jesus.”

“One possible future,” she remarked. “With all of the possible branches in the timeline, it gets complicated.”

“So who are you anyway? I mean, who do you think you are?”

“I think you know the answer to that question.”

“Right. So let me get this straight, basically you’re saying that sometime in the future I get a sex change, then hop in a time machine and travel back in time to prevent myself from dating Sarah? Do you have any idea how fucking crazy that sounds?”

“Okay. Okay…Well, how does this sound? For as long as you can remember, you’ve secretly wished that you were a girl. Countless times growing up, you prayed to God before bedtime, asking him to turn you into a girl before you woke up next morning. Many times, after dreaming about being a girl, you would wake up as just plain old you and often times cry at the sight of the stranger looking back at you in the bathroom mirror in the morning. After a while, you stopped praying and then you started to cope by denying, by telling yourself that you were just confused. The worst part is, you’ve been denying the girl inside yourself for so long that you’ve actually got yourself convinced that Sarah’s the one to fix everything. But I’m here to tell you that it doesn’t work that way. And I know that deep down you know I’m right...You know, I want you to do something for me right now: I want you to think back on that trip to the observatory when we, I mean you, couldn’t stop looking at Maggie with jealous eyes at her pretty face and pretty clothes. If I told you I was going to go back in time and change history so that you could be born a girl and grow up to be as pretty and happy as Maggie, would you try to stop me? Would you want to stop me?”

There was silence as Chris rested his hands on his lap and studied something on the carpet.

“I thought so,” asserted the woman.

“Okay. Guilty as charged. I do want to be a girl. I’ve wanted to be a girl for a very, very, long time. But admitting that doesn’t give any credence to your claim of being from the future, or that I’ll somehow ruin Sarah’s life. All that it proves is that you’ve been spying on me for quite some time.”

“God! I forgot how stubborn and blind I can be sometimes. Denial aint just a river in Egypt Chris…Here, catch!” She threw him the journal that was resting on the end table. “Open it and take a look at the entries.”

Chris perused the entries and then looked up with wide eyed disbelief. “This journal goes all the way through the fall of 2014. So what does this prove other than an active imagination?”

“Do me a favor and turn to tonight’s entry that has yet to be written. She talks about how you attended the play and brought her roses and how she found it in her heart to forgive you. It’s her handwriting. Believe me. She can confirm it. Why don’t you go ahead and hold onto that. It’s time to try a little experiment. You, my friend, are going to spend a nice quiet evening with yourself, your true self. Now please indulge me by staying on that page. Keep a watchful eye on it. I think you’re going to be as surprised as I was to see what happens next!”

The woman was right! Shortly after she uttered the words ‘as surprised as I was to see what happens next’ the words and sentences began changing. As if by magic, the paragraphs began changing. Some became shorter in length and some became longer in length. Chris looked up with a stunned expression on his face like that of a deer caught in the headlights.

“See? I told you. I’m not just some nutcase that escaped from a mental hospital.”

Chris quickly recovered from his loss for words. “Can I ask you something? Besides the obvious, why did you go to all of this trouble to go back in time and change things? Did Sarah give birth to the next Hitler or something?”

The woman managed a fleeting weak smile. “I came back to prevent Sarah’s suicide.”

“Oh my God! That’s awful. It never even occurred to me that that might happen because…because of me, because of the way I am.”

The woman shrugged her shoulders. “How could you know? How could either of us know? But that realization did nothing to let me off the hook. You have no idea of the guilt I’ve had to endure for so many years, a guilt that I’ve freed you from. So now you know why I had to do what I had to do.”

“I’m sorry,” admitted Chris. “I’m so very sorry you had to go through all you did.”

“It’s okay now because both of you have a clean slate, and a chance at a full life. And it’s a very good chance I might add if you just have the courage to be who you really are. I won’t lie to you. It’s not going to be easy. But it’s worth doing. When you reach journey’s end, you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about. There is a degree of peace and contentment waiting for you that you’ve never known. Just do me a favor and don’t wait as long as I did to do something about it.”

“I’ll do my best,” he said with quiet conviction.

The woman smoothed her dress and started easing her way out of the chair with a deliberate slowness.

“Wait,” said Chris. “Before you leave, I have another question. “It’s about that police officer. Why did he show up at my door that day?

The older and prettier version of himself held up the beer bottle in the light, tapped it, and then smiled.

“Identical fingerprints young lady. They ran mine during my brief and hazy stay at the hospital. Let me tell you something, if you can avoid time travel, then definitely do so. It can be a might unpredictable. I left from the future in the late winter and wound up in the past in the dead of summer about a dozen feet above the ground in a park. I’m lucky I didn’t get knocked unconscious.”

She walked toward the door, leaving the gun on the kitchen countertop.

“Hey!” shouted Chris. “That’s it? You’re just going to walk out without asking me if I’m going to promise not to see Sarah.”

His future self smiled a wry smile before saying, “There’s no need…Christine. I know you too well…Goodbye and have a nice life!”

“Will I ever see you again?”

“Sure. Look in the mirror about thirty-five years from now.” With that, Christine walked out.

Chris looked at the journal for a few moments before rushing outside to ask Christine one more burning question that popped into his mind. However, there was no sign of her. She had vanished into the late evening. All that was left was the empty yard in front and the yellow glow of fireflies lighting up an oak like a Christmas tree.