In this chapter, Sean meets an old army buddy, gets some advice, and we meet his twin sister and her spouse.

Bev and I looked at each other, unsure how to continue. I am going to need to make a few phone calls in the morning, I thought to myself.

“Honey, it’s because we thought you were a boy,” Bev said. “We can talk about it in the morning, OK?”

“Alright mommy,” was the reply.

“How about I read you a story?” I asked.

“I’m too tired, daddy.”

“Alright, get to sleep, OK?.”

After we had made it to the living room, Bev and I started talking. The first thing we agreed on was that we would call a child psychiatrist first thing in the morning. The second was we would talk to the Archambeaus. And the third was we would distract George from the issue until we had done the first two.

I did not sleep well that night. Recollections of the things I had seen in Iraq and Afghanistan invaded my thoughts. It made for a very restless night. At 6am, I got out of bed, put on my shorts, my PT shirt with “ARMY AVIATION” printed across the front with the front profile image of a Huey on it, grabbed my well-worn sneakers and mp3 player, and set out on a run with Ayreon’s The Final Experiment playing in my ears. In this outer suburb of Boston, running “around the block” was a decent four and a half miles. By the time I got home, the sun had come up, Ayreon had been silenced by Merlin, and I was being followed. Black Ford Crown Victorias tend to stick out in neighborhoods where most people are driving entry level models from BMW, Mercedes and Audi.

As I turned into my driveway, blue lights started flashing. I slowed down to a stop, not wanting to give myself a cramp at 7am, and turned to give the cop a dirty look that soon turned into a grin.

“Sergeant Foster you magnificent bastard,” I said to the former military policeman.

“Mr. O’Brien you crazy fool. And it’s detective now.”

“Let me guess, you got a call about a suspicious character in the neighborhood?”

“Spotted you myself as you went past my driveway on my way to the station. You living around here these days?”

I pointed to the house, “Just moved in here yesterday. How long have you been harassing civilians?”

“Five years now. Got out just before Iraq. They tried to drag me back to train new MPs but I refused flat out. That tends to end up getting thrown back into the shit.”

“Xavier, I can’t see anyone other than Andre the Giant dragging you anywhere. I’m surprised you fit in that Ford.”

The six foot, four inch detective laughed. “I’ve got to get going. Here’s my card,” He said, handing me a business card emblazoned with the Massachusetts State Police badge, “text me at the number on the back when you get a chance.”

After I got back in the house, I snuck my way upstairs hoping not to wake anyone else up in the house. I thought my plan had succeeded until I noticed the empty bed in the master bedroom and heard the shower running in the adjoining bathroom. I decided Bev could use the company while washing, and made sure she knew it was me long before I hopped in. By the time we got out, the kids were up. Bev decided we would have pancakes for breakfast, and I was not one to argue with her pancakes, and neither did the kids. After the kids went to their room to play, I called Jacques.

He picked up on the second ring. “’Allo?”

“Good morning neighbor, sorry to call you so soon and so early in the morning, but I needed some advice. It’s somewhat related to Pierre.”

“What kind of advice?”

“Well, George is saying he is a girl and-“

Jacques cut me off. “She.”

“Huh?”

“First point of advice, respect George’s wishes. Refer to her with female pronouns.”

“What about school? And should I get a psychiatrist involved?”

“As for school, Sophie can help you with that. She’s already very familiar with the district’s policies. As for a psychiatrist, I have a couple to recommend.” He gave me the numbers for two in the area.

“Thanks for the help. I’m going to call those two now and see if I can get George in next week.”

“No problem. And Yvette said she would be willing to babysit any time you need her to this summer. All her friends are away and Sophie and I want her to earn some money on her own before we buy her a car. And she had a good time with your two youngest.”

After I hung up, I dialed the first number and discovered the doctor was not currently accepting new patients. The second number I dialed surprised me when Doctor Tracy Sharp herself answered the phone. She had an opening for Monday, right after my interview with Boston MedFlight, and her office was on the way to Hanscom Field, and she wanted to see myself and Bev with George. The advice she gave for the weekend echoed Jacques’s advice, and I passed this on to Bev. Aftward, I called Jacques back, though this time I got Yvette. I made the arrangements for her to look after Alice and Paul on Monday, then got a call from the local police department. My license to carry had been approved, and they said I could pick it up any time. I thanked the officer, then called my sister Mary in Boston, inviting her and her family over to dinner that night.

It was a weirdly cool day for August in New England, and so we didn’t make use of the pool, but the kids played outside, inside, and with the house, exploring the boundaries before getting worn out and wanting to watch a movie. I found the DVD for Cars and put it on. Mary, her wife Elizabeth, and their adopted infant daughter Wendy arrived just as the move finished. My sister had always been open about her sexuality, including being understanding about my own penchant for occasionally crossdressing, and had been with Elizabeth since they met at Suffolk University Law School. They had gotten married a month after the Goodridge v. Department of Public Health decision came into force in 2004, and my one regret about it was that I was unable to attend, having been part of a still classified mission with the 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment at the time. In the meantime, my sister had been steadily working on her legal career.

Bev had somehow found time to make Beef Wellington with Brussels Sprouts for dinner (my personal favorite), with a fine California Merlot for the adults and Hood 2% milk for the children. Wendy had something that looked like pureed vomit. Elizabeth explained how her legal career as a lawyer for a local women’s shelter was going, and then my sister dropped a bombshell.

“Governor Patrick has nominated me for a seat on the bench in the Middlesex Superior Court.”

My sister-in-law looked shocked. “When were you planning on telling me?”

“At dinner tonight. I just found out as I was leaving my office.”

I grinned, “So when will I have to start calling you ‘Your Honor’?”

“After the Governor’s council votes on the nomination and I take the oath of office, most likely just after Labor Day.”

“Aren’t you a little young?” Bev asked.

“Bev, as you know, I’m only five minutes younger than your husband. I have the requisite experience, the Judicial Nomination Commission was more than happy with my interview and resume, and even members of the bar I am not married to have nothing but good things to say about me. The Commonwealth has no laws stating how old a judge should be. And honestly, I’ve been wanting to be a judge since I saw Lance Ito preside over the O.J. Simpson trial with the thought of ‘I could do a better job.’” She paused and took a sip of wine. “Also I think the Governor wants to score some brownie points with the LGBT community by appointing an openly gay judge.”

“On that note, we need to talk to you about something else, but not right now.” Bev stated.

Mary gave me a questioning look, but I quickly changed the subject to the Red Sox.