---

---

---

---

---

---

From Michael’s Chance

The girl stood off to the side, her heart pounding and her eyes welling with tears. The four figures sat down at the news desk for the broadcast. Meanwhile, a man sat on a stool at Tully’s Good Times Bar and Grill and looked up at the TV on the wall behind the bar, counting down the seconds as the opening credits for the newscast rolled,

“Eyewitness News TV Thirteen with Rachael Barnhart and Jane Flasch, Meteorologist Patrice Walsh and Michaela Parente with the weekend sports……And now…Eyewitness News….”

---

Syracuse, New York, several years later…

Cindy Parente looked up through sleepy eyes and shook her head.

“They're actually going through with this?” She used her hand to point to herself and then to Michaela.

“I was so sure things had changed, honey. I’m so sorry.”

Michaela put her head down, feeling as if the story was her fault. In a way it was, but not as a fault but as a natural consequence of good decisions not held in respect by everyone. Most folks, even in the more ‘conservative’ places in upstate New York, believed in a live and let live attitude. And certainly, while Michaela had never been ashamed of her past, she still never felt called to be the spokesperson for transgendered sports reporters. Just being a woman in the business was difficult enough, as Hannah Storm had sadly discovered at ESPN.

“It’s not fair!” Cindy sighed. Neither woman dealt with fair vs. unfair; she really meant it was unjust that someone in the management of the local affiliate thought it good to draw attention to the couple’s life choices to boost ratings. Even before the teasers regarding the report had aired, Michaela was already receiving enough hate via twitters and e-mails at the station.

Mostly traditionalists liked their sportscasters to be either male or decidedly attractive women. Michaela wasn’t unattractive, but she’d never grace Elle or Vanity Fair either. And in every aspect save one, she was never really a male. She had, however, been Michael Parente. That would never change, since who she had been prior to her surgery was just as much a part of her.

“No, but it’s what it is.” Michaela sighed. She sat down on the bed and covered her eyes and began to cry softly. Before Cindy spoke again, Michaela had turned to her.

“I’m sorry you have to go through this. It was never my intent…” Cindy cut her off with a finger to her lips. She pulled her wife close to her and kissed her on the cheek.

“I know. But I am so glad to be a part of your life…of this life we share. No matter what, we’ll be fine, okay?”

It was going to be fine, but how and why and when were yet to be determined. And the ‘going through it’ part of becoming fine in the end would be the hardest thing either woman would ever endure.

---

Wegmans’ Supermarket, Syracuse, New York…

Michaela seemed lost in the large store, but not for anything there. She grabbed a gallon of milk from the shelf and put it in the cart; absentmindedly enough to crush a loaf of bread. She bit her lip and looked around while talking to herself.

“Hey, Mickey… you suck!” The voice came from behind and to her left. She looked over her shoulder and saw two men standing by the Coffee grinder at the end of the aisle. Hate mail, snail, electronic, or otherwise, was hard enough to deal with, but now some ‘fans’ had taken it upon themselves to protect the sports profession from ‘ those people ‘ in person . Too many were still stuck in the past regarding women in general, but if the misogynists were in the dark ages, then the anti-transgender crowd that had only recently raised its ugly head was positively Neanderthal.

“Look….she’s gonna cry….” The hairier of the two exclaimed. Michaela was on the verge of tears, but not for the idiocy coming from the two. She grabbed her purse from the cart and walked out of the store to her car. She eased in behind the steering wheel and hit the recline lever on the seat. It had started to rain, and she powered the windows a bit to let the cool mist in. Turning her head to the side, she noticed her station windbreaker. She bunched it up a bit and put it under her head to use as a pillow. Ironic, since it was likely the last benefit she’d receive from her job if the rumors were indeed true. And this was actually the best part of her day…

---

News Department Conference Room, WTVH, Syracuse, New York, earlier that day….

“Gee, Michaela, I’m sorry you feel that way, but you do have a contract…” The man seemed positively convinced of his own cleverness. Michaela shook her head.

“My contract doesn’t call for me to subject my family to what amounts to an invasion of privacy. You want to do a story about me here, that’s fine, but my home life is off limits. My wife and step-daughter have enough to deal with, and they don’t need you prying into their lives…” Her voice trailed off as she thought of the continued struggle her stepdaughter Celia underwent. Still young at twelve but so old from all the chemo and the ups and downs of the remission/return cycle and the procedure. It was hopeful by a very slim margin, but that still meant something.

“That’s not the way Legal sees it, Ms. Parente. You’d be wise to listen to Halley here and just work with us.” Benson, the new station manager leaned closer.

“We can’t fire you, but I imagine you don’t want to be doing the Saturday Pet Parade; you have a personal services contract that pretty much lets us call the shots. You don’t have to do sports if you want to remain employed…. Just whatever we say you should.”

“I don’t care. I’ll do whatever is necessary to keep my family safe.” She shook her head. It felt as if the past few years had all been a dream and that the harsh reality of her life was waking her like someone dumped a pitcher of cold water on her head while she was asleep. She thought of how much Cindy had put up with at work when the network aired the teaser for the series the other night. While Cindy’s co-workers were already aware of her special family circumstances, some of the other folks at Michaela’s old station were still being dragged kicking and screaming into the twenty-first century.

“Think it over. We will start filming tomorrow; ready or not. If you still refuse to cooperate, there’s always kittens and puppies and fucking birds to deal with on Saturday from now on. Your choice.” The two got up and walked out, leaving Michaela to ponder the worst part of those choices. But it didn’t stop there, sadly. A few minutes later, Gina Ming, the production assistant, knocked on the door frame.

“Mikey? Your wife is on line seven? She says she’s been trying to get in touch with you but it kept going to voice mail. I’m sorry.” She pointed to the conference phone in the middle of the table. Michaela picked up the receiver and hit the seven-button.

“Cindy…what…. Where are you….Dr. Phan’s…what? ” She placed the receiver in the cradle and bit her tongue. A moment later Gina had returned with a cup of coffee.

“Here, sweetie… I figured you could use this after meeting with those dickheads….” She stopped in mid sentence; noticing that the color had pretty much left Michaela’s face and that she had been crying. She stepped closer and Michaela looked up and shook her head.

“Celia? Oh dear God ….” The look of disappointment on Michaela’s face said it all.

“Oh, honey…no….no…” Gina sat down next to Michaela and pulled her into a comforting hug.

“It’s not the worst news in the world, but…. I’m just so tired….”

“I’m so sorry, honey….oh no…shhhhh….shhhhh.” Gina rubbed Michaela’s back and sighed.

---

Two-Twelve AM… the Parente apartment…

Michaela poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table. Cindy was in Celia’s room asleep next to her daughter…their daughter. Funny how things work out; Michaela had given up hope years ago of ever being a parent. She never thought that she’d find love from a child, much less love from an accepting woman. She breathed out a heavy sigh; trying to keep quiet in the still that sleep had finally brought to her family. The long day promised no end, and it was too much for Michaela. She put her head down on the table and wept….

---

The next morning….

“What am I going to do?” Michaela wasn’t a complaining person. Far from it, she was likely one of the most resolute people anyone would want to meet. But the day before her loomed as large as a thunderstorm edging closer and closer. Cindy put her hand on Michaela’s arm and leaned closer; almost touching heads.

“What you’ve always done. Fight and fight hard.” She smiled and used her eyes to gaze at Celia. The girl was up and at ‘em, as some would say, despite the bad news of the day before. If Michaela was a fighter, then her step-daughter…her daughter was a champion in mixed emotional martial arts. She had everything to fear, but her day lay before her like a title already settled but for the fight ahead.

“Yeah…I think you should just tell them …. Mom says I shouldn’t, so I’ll just say you know what I mean.” The girl giggled. So much strength and determination and valor in one so young; strength tempered by challenges to overcome.

“Can I ask a question?” Cindy and Michaela both wore the same expression; a look that said ‘you can have anything you want.’ She didn’t miss the look and spoke.

“Mom….Mikey? I’m going to be okay. I believe that with all my heart, and so should you.” She reached over and grabbed Cindy’s hand and squeezed.

“I think you should do the story, Mikey….” She grinned; an almost conspiratorial smile.

“Just do it the way you want. And if they won’t let you, maybe you can call Uncle Jack?”

“Do it the way we want to?” Cindy nodded and grinned.

“Maybe say somthin’ about Carrie and Luis and even have them come over there when they do the thing?” Her grin widened and she laughed; this time soft and kind and sweet. Her friends faced the same daunting challenges each day as she did and they faced them with courage.

“That’s a great idea.” Michaela smiled and pulled her cell phone from her purse. She hit a preset and waited for a few moments.

“Jack? Yes…. Can you do me a huge…yes…that….they won’t give in…what? You serious? Really? Holy…Yes…tomorrow afternoon is perfect….he’s there with you….wow…..you’re a dear….I love you too….Thanks…” She clicked off and laughed softly. Of course the news was wonderful, but she was marveling more that Jack Welker had actually said ‘I love you,’ to her; a testimony, not only to their friendship, but to the changes in Jack’s life.

“You’ll never guess what Jack just told me…” And of course they couldn’t guess, so Michaela told them. A few minutes later after another cup of coffee and a few relieved tears, Michaela went to stand up. Celia grabbed Michaela’s hand and placed it on her head, giving her other Mom a start from the prickle of the peach-fuzz of hair that adorned her scalp.

“For luck?” She laughed. The girl was used to setbacks. Her hair had grown only so much with the back-and-forth of her treatment, but was at least long enough to reveal its ginger hue.

“Okay,” Michaela said. Her heart wasn’t really into fighting a battle, but how could she back down from something so small as a job when her daughter was in the fight of her life. She stood up and grabbed her purse from the table. Leaning over , she kissed Cindy and spoke.

“I love you so much. We’ll be fine.” She nodded and stepped around the table and kissed Celia on the forehead and smiled.

“I cannot begin to tell you how proud I am of you and that I am so blessed. I love you so much.” She kissed the girl once again and scooted out the door and into the day’s events.

---

The next afternoon…

“Have you decided?” The man sat behind the large table as if it was his office domain. Flanked on either side were two men. Benson seemed to resemble Mr. Smith from the Matrix series and the other two looked just as bland.

“Before you speak, let me remind you of what your options are? First, we’ve decided that you can have a few days before we begin to shoot for the feature. It’s going to be shown as a half-hour special on the 26th; plenty of time to prepare for the publicity it will bring.”

“To you, maybe. To me, it’s not publicity, but will become notoriety with some people. And that’s something…”

“I’m sorry you feel the way you do, but really? Isn’t this all inevitable? It’s not a secret about your choice to change your sex.” One of the men spoke.

“And really? Can a bit of notoriety be all that bad for a sports reporter? It practically drives most of the stories these days, yes? Why not….”

“Just sit back and enjoy it?” All three men completely missed the meaning of her words.

“Why, yes. That’s a good way of looking at it.”

Michaela turned to her right and shook her head slightly, mouthing, “I can’t believe he just said that. Jack turned to the three and smiled broadly.

“What do you have to say, Mr…..You’re Ms. Parente’s attorney?

“Jack….Jack Welker, and no, I’m not her attorney.”

“The name sounds familiar.”

“It should. I’m the station manager over at ROC in Rochester."

“And you’re here because?”

“He’s here because he’s my friend.” She turned and smiled; Jack’s presence went way beyond advice or hand-holding. Jack was like a father to Michaela, and he was ‘there for her,’ as the saying goes.

“All well and good, but the decision still remains. Are you prepared to cooperate?”

“Well, yes and no.”

“You might want to actually do some research on transgender women and men. You don’t have a clue as to who they are or what they go through, and it’s really too bad, since it shows how shallow you are. But Ms. Parente has something more important to discuss.” Jack nodded at Michaela.

“I’m not following you.” The man looked at Michaela and then at his colleagues.

“I am prepared to do a program for the station, but it will be on my terms.”

“I don’t understand? “ He stated the obvious since they hadn’t understood from the beginning.

“Just this. Ms. Parente and her partner are the parents of a daughter who is recovering from a significant medical problem. The girl is willing to allow you to include her in your feature if you agree to her terms; terms which are non-negotiable.”

“Wait a second, you can’t dictate to me…I’m the station manager!” Benson almost jumped out of his chair. The other two nodded vigorously in agreement.

“Well, more about that in a second, but for moment let’s just say that Celia Parente-Wrobowski will be running the show, so to speak. She has some friends who face the same challenges as she does, and she wants them included in the feature. All of her friends have had bone-marrow transplants, and it’s still an uphill battle for some. Your feature may include some background regarding her mother Cindy and her step-mother, Ms. Parente, but in no way will Ms. Parente’s gender be the focus of the presentation.

“Wait a minute! That’s ridiculous. That’s the whole reason for the feature in the first place.”

“Sorry, but that’s a violation of Ms. Parente’s rights and threatening her position with the station is blatant harassment, plain and simple.”

“That’s not what our legal department says,” the first man pointed to the third at the end of the conference table.

“Well, yes, we’re quite aware of what your legal department says, but we don’t accept that.”

“You can’t tell us…” Jack held his hand up and waved slightly in caution. It took all Michaela could do not to laugh, since she already knew that the best was yet to come.

“I’m not a lawyer , but I have a friend who is…” He paused for effect; the suspense was more for his benefit and a need for a good laugh, but he also wanted to hear them out.

“Yes, most of us do, but seriously, we have contract law behind us.” The man seemed to be getting a bit nervous. Jack added to the anxiety all three of the men had begun to display by pulling out his cell phone.

“You might want to listen to what my friend has to say.” With that he punched in some numbers and waited. After hearing a click, he turned on the speaker.

“Hello Jack? Are my friends there?” The words seemed friendly enough but the three men grew more nervous since they recognized the voice; Robert Stephano; owner of the station.

“Yes they are, Bob…yes they are,” Jack allowed himself a brief laugh.

“Gentlemen…you do know who I am, do you not?” The two on either side of the first man nodded as if the man on the other end could see them. Benson seemed to be hoping desperately that he was mistaken even as he nodded in agreement.

“Ye….yes, Mr. Stephano.”

“My friend Jack here tells me you’ve been giving our best sports announcer a very hard time. Please tell me he’s wrong?”

“We…uh….” Benson stammered but Stephano cut him off.

“I would expect my station manager would know a rhetorical question when he heard one. Of course I know he’s not wrong. What the fuck were you thinking?”

“We…ah….”

“Rhetorical, Mr. Benson, please! Now my understanding is that Ms. Parente’s daughter has come up with a very good if not completely legal and non-harassment enabling alternative. Human interest. Brave little girl faces challenges with friends? Now who wouldn’t want to watch that?”

“Er….”

“Ah, ah, ah Mr. Benson. Now here’s what you three are going to do.” Jack turned away to keep from bursting out in laughter. Michaela was only smiling a bit; her eyes had begun to well with tears over the thought of Celia and her friends. But she sighed and smiled as Stephano continued.

“First? You are going to apologize to Ms. Parente. I believe an apology should have teeth, so you will be giving her a ten percent raise effective immediately. Second….you will write her family an apology for even thinking about trying to exploit them. It’s hardly a human interest story if you’re inhumane, yes?” Benson went to speak but thought better of it; the word rhetorical seemed to bound around in his head.

“Third, and this is very important, gentlemen, and I am using that word as loosely as I can manage. You will get all the proper paper worked ready for this production, including a contract to compensate the children who will be featured in the program, which you will extend to an hour. This won’t merely be a story, but perhaps a way for you to redeem yourself. I’ve taken the liberty to set up a fund for the three…the four counting Ms. Parente’s daughter…children…. To help defray the costs of their treatment. Get Angie Zuk to produce it; she does a great job and she can go over with you all the ins and outs of what you three will be responsible for.”

“But I’m in legal,” the man at the end protested.

“For the time being, Mr. Halley….yes, I know your name; your father and I go way back. You can resume your other responsibilities after the show is completed, but I want you focused on fixing what has become a royal fuck-up, capice?” Halley nodded.

“And don’t feel so bad, Mr. Allucio? Did I pronounce that right? Of course I did. I’ve got a special job for you. It seems that assistant to the station manager isn’t quite a good fit for you. I think I’ve got just the right position. Do you like animals? Of course you do…. Everybody likes animals.” Halley gasped.

“I’ll let you keep your position as assistant to Mr. Benson there, provided you do a smashup job on the assignment I’ve got for you. Saturday mornings….starting very early…yes I know it’s hard after a long fun-filled Friday night, but I’ve got every confidence in you that you’re just the right man for the job.” He laughed at the end. Halley grew nervous and frowned in anticipation.

“That’s right…you guessed it! Pet Parade. And we’ll be doing that live and repeating on Sunday mornings as well, since everybody likes animals.” Allucio slunk in his chair.

“Finally…we come to you, Mr. Benson. All kidding aside? You nearly cost this station a whole lot of money. Lawsuits…loss of revenue from the fallout? But that’s not the worst part of it, Mr. Benson. And I promise; this isn’t a rhetorical question. Just what the fuck did you think was a good idea about a very intrusive look into a family already dealing with what these people have to face? Even if you didn’t do your research, Ms. Parente’s ‘no’ should have been enough. And here’s a thought? Next time you decide to pull a stunt like this, instead of running it by the legal department, try running it by your conscience if you actually have one.”

“I’m….I’m sorry.” The break in Benson’s voice indicated more than just regret for the consequences.

“I know you are….thankfully. You get to keep your job, Mr. Benson, but there will be a two percent reduction in pay; perhaps a bonus of sorts to help you remember the next time you think about exploiting someone. Okay?” Stephano’s last words seemed almost grand-fatherly.

“Yes, Mr. Stephano…” The other two nodded without word.

“Oh, and Mr. Halley? Your father says hi….” He finished with a laugh and hung up.

“So gentlemen? Would you give Ms. Parente a call when all the arrangements are set up?” Jack smiled and patted Michaela’s hand. Benson stood up and was quickly followed by the other two. He nodded and walked toward the door before stopping and turning.

“I’m very sorry, Ms. Parente.” He said. She smiled and nodded.

---

Several months later….

Michaela and Cindy and Celia sat at the kitchen table. Cindy’s expression reflected her daughter’s; one of happy and hopeful relief.

“Wow….seventeen thousand dollars so far, and that’s not including what Mr. Stephano kicked in. Oh thank you, Mikey,” Celia threw her arms around Michaela and kissed her.

“It’s all you, sweetie. You did this!”

“No….we did this,” the girl said as she smiled and nodded at Cindy and then back at Michaela.

“In all of this, honey, you’ve never once asked for anything for yourself. It’s all been about your friends and us. And we’re so proud of you. If you could have anything….” Cindy stopped; gasping at the thought of unfulfilled wishes. Desperate enough for most people to begin with, but even more so for Celia and her friends. She smiled.

“Two things? First? I want to grow up to be just like you. I want to be kind and caring and love people the way you do Mom and you, Mikey. And of course I want to be in sports just like you, Mikey.” Michaela and Cindy nodded. Just those wishes indicated so much more because the girl hoped for a future. Cindy smiled at her daughter.

“What was the second thing, honey?” Michaela asked. Celia laughed softly and said.

“This isn’t neg…negotiable, Okay?” They looked askance at her in anxious anticipation. Her laughter softened as she seemed to ponder the other wish. She smiled broadly and spoke.

“No more broccoli for dinner!” Michaela and Cindy looked at her in confusion; the request was so small; almost insignificant until she added,

“Forever!” Cindy sighed at the word and Michaela leaned closer and kissed her daughter and said softly in the girl’s ear,

“Forever.”

Thanks to all of you dear folks who have followed my friends in this group of stories. I hope they've been as much a blessing to you as they have to me.