Found and Lost
By Missy Crystal

This is the sequel to "Lost and Found." I recommend you read that story first. For those who have, "Found and Lost" explores Jack's relationship with Penny. Can they find happiness together?

I don't know why I asked Penny for a date. She's transgendered and I'm not gay. At least I don't think so. After we went out, I started looking at guys, ones I passed on the street, cautiously, so they wouldn't get the wrong idea, the movie and TV stars that women go nuts over, male models in magazine ads, but I didn't find any of them attractive. Penny was different. Not different that way. Well, okay, yes, different that way too, but I mean different from the usual women I asked out. She was pretty, she was smart, she had a great personality and, most importantly, she said yes, all of the qualities that I looked for in a date. To my surprise, she wasn't kidding when she wanted to know whether by the word 'date' I meant the movies, dinner, holding hands and making out. She really was an old fashioned girl. Kissing was okay and she did let me get to second base, as we used to say as kids, but that was only because the hormones she was on gave her small boobs and the rest of her chest was artificial, so I was free to fondle the enhancers, as she called them. They felt nice, although I would have preferred that she kept the secret to herself and let me indulge my schoolboy fantasy.

After a frustrating few weeks and lots of cold showers, Penny was persuaded that I was serious about having a relationship and she invited me to stay over. We stopped off at Ginger's, the t-girl bar where we first met when I was looking for a transgendered boy who ran away from home, and I had a couple of scotches. Penny had her usual glass of wine and then I drove her home. I had been in her apartment before. It was a really nice one bedroom. She had curtains, a matching living room set, a bed with a spread and lots of decorative pillows and little heart shaped scented soaps in the bathroom. Really high class compared to the dump I lived in. She poured me another glass of scotch, a glass of wine for herself and then went into the bedroom. When she came out, she was dressed in jeans and a pull-over jersey. Something seemed different and then I realized that she was almost flat chested. She must have taken off her bra. I had never seen her in pants before either. Whenever we went out, either she was coming from work and dressed professionally or she wore skirts. I took it as a compliment that she felt comfortable enough to let me see her this way.

Penny sat next to me on the couch and snuggled up, resting her head on my chest. I put my arm around her and she looked up. I leaned down and kissed her. She reached up and put her arm around me neck. We stayed locked in the embrace, kissing passionately, our tongues flickering in and out. I slid my hand over her chest. She didn't protest, so I moved it down and under her top, sliding it back up over her smooth skin until it rested on a soft mound. She moaned. I found a little nipple and gently touched it. She shuddered. I was surprised that it would be so sensitive. Our lips parted and she lay back. I discreetly removed my hand. She gave me a smile, stood up, put out her hand, I took it and she led me into the bedroom.

"Jack, why don't you use the bathroom first?" she suggested. "There's a spare toothbrush and toothpaste in the medicine cabinet."

I gave her the privacy I figured she wanted, closing the door. Actually, I needed to use the facilities and being a considerate lover, brushing my teeth before bed probably was a good idea. I made sure I gave her enough time to do whatever it was she wanted to do and than knocked on the door.

"Okay, if I come out now?" I inquired cautiously.

"Uh, huh," she agreed.

When I came out, she had on a very feminine robe, pink silk or satin or nylon or something shiny, with lacy white trim. She traded places with me in the bathroom. I took off my shirt and pants, pulled back the covers and got in still wearing my undershirt and boxers for modesty. I pulled the covers over me and waited expectantly. About ten minutes later - women take a lot of time in the bathroom - Penny came out. She turned off the light and I noticed that there was a candle glowing on the bureau and giving off a faint lilac scent, very romantic. Penny thought of everything. She dropped her robe. In the dim light, I only caught a nondescript glimpse of flesh and pink panties as she slipped under the covers.

Penny slid over next to me. I hesitated, but she didn't, stroking my chest and nuzzling at my neck. So far, so good. Better than good, actually. I reciprocated and was treated to her soft little mounds with hard nipples, repeating the caresses that got her excited before, with the same effect. She coaxed up my undershirt and I pulled it over my head. As she headed South, I had this awful thought. What if hers was bigger than mine? The passage of her hand below the waistband of my shorts drove that thought out of my head. Making love to someone who you care about and want to please solves the anatomical puzzle of what goes where. As a gentleman, I can't reveal the details. Suffice it to say that vaginas are overrated.

We continued to date. I was surprised by how hard Penny worked. She went to her office early, she often stayed late and she was always going to conferences and seminars. It would have been great if we could live together, but it was easier, at least for her, if she didn't have to deal with fussing over me in the morning, which she insisted on doing and I had no complaints, while trying to get herself ready. We made up for it on the weekends. Everything was going great until one Friday night when the phone rang. Well, it was two o'clock, so that would make it Saturday morning. I didn't give out Penny's home number, but she did give it to her clients and the phone was on her side of the bed anyway. She rolled over, sat up and picked up the receiver.

"Hello? Yes, this is Penny Johnson. Yes, Tri-City. I can't say for sure. The description sounds like Lavender. Can't you ask her? Unconscious, oh. Is it serious? Oh. No, I'm sorry, I don't know her last name. The street girls don't use them or they make them up, like Foxx with two or three x's. I don't know where she lives either. No, we don't keep records. Respecting the girls' privacy is what encourages them to work with us. Now? If you think it will help. Detective O'Brien. Okay. Probably about an hour, maybe less. Yes. Okay. Bye."

I was sitting up. Penny hung up the phone and turned to me.

"I have to go out," she explained. "That was a police officer at City Hospital. They brought in a transsexual, one of the street girls, it sounds like Lavender, I wouldn't be surprised, who was beaten up. She's unconscious and they'd like me to indentify her and see if I can help with their investigation. Honestly, I don't know what I can do besides check with some of the other street girls. Maybe by then Lavender will be awake and I can talk to her. I'm sorry, Honey. Go back to sleep."

She rolled towards me and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

"I'll drive you. I don't want you out at this time of night."

"Really, Jack, Honey, I'll be fine. I'm a big girl and can take care of myself. I don't need a chaperone," she insisted. "Go back to sleep."

"Who's the man of the house," I challenged her.

"Well, last night it might have been debatable," she teased me.

"Penny!"

"Okay, okay, you Tarzan, me Jane, Dear," she conceded.

"It's settled then. I'm driving you."

I got up and started to pull on my pants to emphasize my determination. Penny gave up arguing and started getting dressed, which, as a woman, was a more complicated process. She grabbed her pocketbook and said she would do her makeup in the car. I grabbed her car keys, we usually took hers because it was more likely to get us wherever we were going than my clunker, and we hurried downstairs to the parking lot. We got in and I headed for the hospital. There was no traffic at this time of the morning and we made good time. I parked and we went in the main entrance. Penny must have done this before, because we bypassed the information desk and headed for the elevators. She pressed the button for the CCU on the fifth floor. When we got out, she went to the nurses' station. She spoke to the woman behind the counter and she directed us down the hallway to our left. About six doorways down, I saw a uniformed police officer talking to a man in civilian clothes. I assumed he must be the detective. Penny walked up to him, introduced herself and handed him a business card. They spoke for a minute and he looked over at me. She motioned for me to come over.

"This is Jack Blaine, a private investigator. He works with us," she exaggerated.

I went up and showed him my ID card. The detective looked at me skeptically, probably wondering exactly how Penny managed to get hold of me at 2 AM on such short notice and, with his deductive skills, suspecting that there was probably more to the story. It didn't matter and he turned around, spoke to the uniformed officer, who stepped aside. The detective opened the door and took Penny inside. I followed behind them. There was a hospital bed with IV's set up. At first I thought the woman laying there was black, but as I got closer I could see that it was discolorations from huge bruises covering almost every inch of her face. He eyes and jaw were bandaged. I'd see some pretty brutal beatings, but none like this one. I looked over to Penny and she had turned away in shocked disbelief with her hand over her mouth. The detective escorted her out of the room and helped her to a chair in the hallway.

"I'm sorry, Miss Johnson," the detective apologized, bringing her a paper cup of water, which she took, "but we need to know who she is. Do you recognize her?"

Penny took a few deep breaths, a sip of the water and composed herself.

"Yes, I recognize her. It's Lavender. At least that's her street name. She's one of the t-girls who work the strip. She's been in for counseling in conjunction with her methadone program, which she goes on when she runs out of money for drugs, but she's never really tried to rehabilitate herself."

"Do you have any idea who might have done this too her?"

Penny shook her head.

"The girls mix in with the GG's …"

The detective gave penny a puzzled look.

"GG, genetic girls, women," Penny explained. "The men who solicit them don't always recognize that they're TS, transsexual," she clarified. "The girls want the money and pretend to be having their period or try to talk them into oral, but sometimes the men figure it out and react violently to being tricked. She liked kinky stuff too, bondage, S&M, that kind of thing. I warned her Detective O'Brien. I told her she was asking for trouble, but it didn't do any good," Penny said sadly.

"We found her unconscious in an alley off of the strip," the detective recounted. "Whoever she was with worked her over good, a fractured skull, multiple facial fractures, a fractured jaw, fractured ribs, a ruptured spleen, the retina of her right eye is detached, she will be blind in that eye, and severe head trauma. Her brain's swollen and they put a tube in to relieve the pressure, but the doctor said he doubted she will live. If she does, she'll have severe brain damage," the detective repeated the pessimistic prognosis.

"Do you have any suspects?" Penny asked.

"No, we have no leads. There wasn't any physical evidence at the scene, except for blood on the ground, probably hers. No prints, no semen and no skin or hair under her fingernails, she didn't struggle, so no DNA for us to work with. If she had a pocketbook, it's gone. No money, no keys, nothing on her. Do you know where she lived?"

"No, the street girls like Lavender move around," Penny answered his question. "They stay with a pimp or a friend or flop in a shelter. Usually whatever they make goes up their nose or in their arm. I'll check around," Penny offered. "Maybe one of the other girls saw or heard something. I'm sorry, but that's all I can do to help. You have my card. Call me if you need anything else or if there are any developments, please."

"I will, Miss Johnson. Thank you for coming down at this hour. I'm sorry to get you involved."

"No problem, Detective O'Brien, you're only doing your job," Penny acknowledged, "and I'm doing mine. Goodnight to you and the officer."

The officer and Detective O'Brien reciprocated and we left. On the drive home, Penny was quiet. In her apartment, we got back in bed and I gently held her. There was nothing more to say and we finally drifted off to sleep. When I woke about nine o'clock, Penny wasn't in bed. I got up and went to the kitchen. She was there, already dressed and making breakfast.

"I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking of poor Lavender," she explained. "Jack, nobody deserves to have that done to them." "I'm going to start checking, but I wanted to make you breakfast before I left. You were really sweet to go with me last night," she said with a little smile which quickly faded. "I don't want whoever did this to Lavender to get away with it."

I took a sip of coffee.

"Look, Penny. The girls you need to talk to work nights and sleep days. You won't find any of them. Why don't we just spend the day together and then tonight we can go to Ginger's and then later check out the strip," I suggested.

"I guess you're right, but I don't want to stay home." Penny thought for a minute. "I'm going down to the hospital and see how Lavender's doing," she decided.

"From what I saw last night, Lavender's not going to be conscious. If you want to know her condition, you can call."

"Yes, but I've read where people who are in comas sometimes come out of them when they hear a familiar voice. It couldn't hurt, Jack," she challenged me.

"No, you're right. It couldn't hurt," I conceded. Let me get dressed and I'll go with you," I offered.

"No, Honey. It's daytime and I'll be fine. Save your energy for tonight. You're the investigator, so I could use your help. Okay?"

"Okay," I agreed, "but call me if there's anything you need, please."

"I will."

She picked up her pocketbook, took the car keys and left. I went back into the bedroom and got dressed. There really wasn't much for me to do on a Saturday morning. I went down in the elevator and swiped someone's newspaper from the lobby. I returned to the apartment and went through it, looking for any news about Lavender. There was a short article in the Metro section about a homeless woman who had been beaten and that police were investigating. I suppose that was accurate as to her living situation, if not as to her occupation. Then again, the police don't usually release detailed information. I turned on the TV and watched sports, waiting for Penny to return. About three o'clock she called. There was nothing new. She wasn't going to have time to make dinner, so would I order out. I talked her into pizza, because they delivered. I had nothing else to do, so I demonstrated my domestic skills by setting the table, although I was darned if I could remember whether the knife went to the left or the right of the fork and spoon. Then again, why did we need a spoon to eat pizza?

After dinner, we went to Ginger's. The word was out about Lavender. Everyone was sympathetic, but nobody had any information. About eleven o'clock we went to the strip. Cars would pull up as we were talking to a girl and she would interrupt the conversation to do business. Nobody heard or saw anything and none of them recalled anyone who got rough with them. We got back to Penny's apartment about one o'clock and went to sleep. Having wasted the night, neither of us was in the mood for romance. Sunday was a repeat of Saturday. Penny was up early, she went to the hospital and I hung around the apartment. At least the Sunday paper I swiped from the lobby had a decent crossword puzzle. There was no mention of Lavender. That night we tried talking to the girls on the strip again, but without any luck. I dropped Penny off at her apartment and went back to my place.

Monday went as usual, until I got a call from Penny about three o'clock.

"Hi, Honey."

"Hi, Penny, how are you?"

"I'm okay."

"Any word on Lavender?"

"No, she's still unconscious and the police still don't have any suspects. That's why I'm calling."

"Oh, I thought it was because of my irresistible charm and good looks," I said with mock disappointment.

"That too, Dear, but you do surveillance work and we, that is I and some of the girls, well, we thought it would be a good idea if we hired you to keep an eye on them for a few nights, in case whoever beat up Lavender comes back."

"Hired me?" I asked skeptically.

"Yes, I have a small discretionary budget that I could draw against and the girls offered to put in some money. It wouldn't be much. How much do you charge?"

"For that kind of work, I get five hundred a night minimum, plus the cost of the film and developing, but I'm easy. We could take it out in sexual favors."

"And exactly who are 'we,' Jack Dear?" Penny asked coyly.

"Umm, you and the girls?" I answered tentatively.

"Yes, well, I suppose it could be arranged, although I'm not sure how much you will enjoy it after your INSGR.

"What's that?" I asked naively, never being able to remember what the different initials stood for.

"Involuntary non-surgical gender reassignment."

"Oh, well, in that case, I suppose we could continue with our current arrangement."

"Are you sure, Jack?"

"Yes, I'm very sure, Penny," retention of my manhood being a high priority, "but there is a problem."

"You want fringe benefits too?"

"No, well yes, but, seriously, that's not the problem. When I do surveillance for a client, it's usually just sitting outside a building watching for a particular man or woman. That's a lot different than trying to keep an eye on a whole street where there's lots going on. It's dark, the men don't get out of the cars, the girls bend over to talk to them and there's not much that you can record except the license tags. I'm not saying I won't do it or I can't do it. I'm just telling you that it is not going to be very effective for one person to be the guardian angel for the whole strip. There's also a practical problem," I continued. "The girls come out when it gets dark and they work until the early morning hours. It's one thing if you're in a hotel room with a video camera pointed out the window and watching on a TV monitor. It's another when you're in a car taking pictures. I can't sit out there all night. I would guess that between nine and one would be the most traffic, that's four hours, which is about as long as I can handle, but it still leaves a big window of opportunity for someone to repeat what they did to Lavender."

"Are you saying it's not worth it?"

"No, it's worth a shot, but you and the girls need to know that it's a long shot."

"Thank you, Jack. I, we, really appreciate it."

"No problem. I'll be around this weekend to collect."

"And I'll be sure the payroll department is expecting for you."

"Bye, Honey," she laughed and hung up.

I got my high-tech surveillance equipment together. An old fashioned Nikon camera with a 300mm telephoto lens, they do the best job at night, with ultra high speed black and white film you can shoot a firefly's bellybutton at a hundred yards, an old sleeping bag with a broken zipper to keep me warm and a two gallon jug for coffee. I opened the top and found a mess of black gunk, confirming my lack of domestic skills. I took the jug into the restroom and washed it out a dozen or so times, until it no longer smelled like the inside of an old gym sneaker. I went back to my office and made a call to Detective O'Brien. He wasn't in, so I left him a voice mail that I had been hired to do a surveillance job on the strip and gave him a description of my car and plate number, so I wouldn't get hassled by the police patrol.

I finished up my work, put everything in my car and went back to my apartment to put on warm clothes. I took some paper towels and window cleaner to make sure I got a clear shot through the windshield. On my way to the strip, I stopped at a donut shop and got the jug filled with high octane java. I also picked up a half dozen assorted jelly donuts. Penny was into healthy food and my system needed something from the round, sugar covered, jelly filled food group so I wouldn't get rickets or something. That might not have been medically accurate, but it was a good excuse and what she didn't know about my diet wouldn't require me to repent with tofu and bean sprouts for the rest of the week.

I drove to the strip and parked where I had a good view of the girls. They lounged against the buildings or stood in doorways, moving to the curb when a car pulled up, sometimes getting in and sometimes walking away, which I assumed meant they couldn't come to terms. I took a shot of the plates, but I couldn't coordinate the girl and the tag in the same photo. At best, if something happened, I would have a record of who was looking for a good time over the course of a few hours that night. It would be a start and it would embarrass a lot of men, who I was sure would not want anyone, especially their wives, to know about their extra-curricular activities, but it wouldn't prove who was responsible. Well, it was for a good cause, whether or not it accomplished anything. By one thirty I had gone through almost three rolls of film. I was surprised by how much traffic there was for a weekday night. I guess there's no schedule for being horny. I started the car and drove back to my apartment.

The next night was a waste of time and film too. Since nothing happened, I saved some money by not developing the rolls. I just marked the cartridges with the date and put them away. I decided to take a break and come back on the weekend. That was when Lavender got beaten up and it was more likely whoever did it would follow the same pattern. I told Penny and she agreed. Since I was going to be working Friday and Saturday nights, I wouldn't be able to see her. Penny kept going to the hospital every evening, but Lavender never regained consciousness. According to the doctors, she was in what they called a permanent vegetative state. Lavender was as good as dead and whoever did it was going to get away with it. Probably they were boozed up or high on drugs and outraged at being tricked into having sex with a guy, like Penny said happens. All in all, it sucked.

Things returned to normal, at least as normal as it ever got, until about a month later. I got a call from Penny telling me that Dawn had seen her mother's obituary in the newspaper. She wanted Penny to go with her to the service on Friday and to the cemetery. She was just giving me advance notice that she wouldn't be around Friday night. She wanted to stay with Dawn. I offered to go too. Penny wasn't sure it was a good idea.

"You told Dr. Benton that you couldn't find his son. Won't it seem strange if you suddenly show up with her at the funeral?" she wondered.

"No," I reasoned. "I told him that I knew a woman who worked in the transgendered community. Dawn contacted her about the funeral, she recognized that Dawn was who I was looking for, she called me and I brought her to him. That was what he paid me to do. It will be easier if I make the introduction than if Dawn just walks up to him and announces, 'Daddy, I'm home,' don't you think?"

"I suppose, if you put it that way, yes. Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. What time should I pick you up?"

We worked out the details. Dawn was going to take a cab to the church and we were going to meet her. Then we would drive to the cemetery together. On Friday, I got out a pair of dark pants and a dark blue sports jacket, which was as close to a suit as I could get. I drove over to Penny's and we changed to her car. She had on a dark blue skirt and jacket. It took us about twenty-five minutes to get to the church. Dawn was waiting outside in a long sleeved black dress. I hadn't seen Dawn for a long time. She looked terrible. Her eyes were yellow and her skin was too. I looked at Penny and she shook her head. We went in. I saw Dr. Benton at the front of the church. Dawn wanted to be inconspicuous, so we sat in the back row.

After the service, we left quickly. We didn't join in the motorcade to the cemetery, so we got there after the graveside service had started and waited until it was over. When most of the mourners had paid their respects and left, I went up to Dr. Benton. He recognized me.

"Mr. Blaine, this is unexpected. Thank you for coming."

"You're welcome Dr. Benton, my condolences. Actually, I'm here because I found your son."

Dr. Benton's face dropped.

"David, how, when?" he stammered.

"The name she has been using is Dawn, Dr. Benton. She saw your wife's death notice in the paper and contacted Penny, the woman I had spoken to when I was looking for her. She got in touch with me and I brought her here."

I stood back. Penny and Dawn walked up to Dr. Benton.

"Hello, father," Dawn greeted him.

Dr. Benton scowled at Dawn.

"I don't know you," he claimed.

Dawn's face dropped and tears welled up. Dr. Benton stepped back.

"I, I'm, sorry father," Dawn apologized, "I know I've disappointed you. I'm not well and I was hoping, I was hoping that when I died I could be buried with mother," she entreated him.

"There is no place for you here," he said coldly and walked away.

I clenched my fists, about to follow him and beat the crap out of the bastard. Penny must have sensed my anger and firmly held my arm. I looked at her and she shook her head.

"There's been enough heartbreak here today. Let him grieve the loss of his wife and his son, Jack. He wouldn't understand and it would only add to Dawn's guilt."

Of course, she was right. I calmed down.

"Let's go home."

She took Dawn's arm and we walked silently to the car. Dawn got in the back seat and I drove. After about ten minutes, Dawn spoke in a soft voice.

"Penny."

"Yes, Dawn."

"Penny, when I die, will you make the arrangements please?"

"Dawn, don't talk like that."

"Will, you Penny, please? I need to know."

"Yes, Dawn," Penny agreed with a sigh, unable to deny her request.

"Thank you. I want to be cremated. This body is wrong for me. I've always hated it and now it's filled with poison."

"Dawn, no more, please," Penny pleaded with her.

"And my ashes, Penny, will you scatter them on my mother's grave please," she continued. "I want to be with her. Promise me, Penny."

I had a knot in my stomach.

"Yes, Dawn, I promise," Penny committed.

"Thank you."

We drove the rest of the way in silence. When we arrived at Dawn's rooming house, I got out and opened the door for her. Penny got out and started to follow. Dawn stopped her.

"Please Penny, I appreciate your concern, but I really need to be alone. I'm tired, very tired," she emphasized. "I want to make myself a cup of tea and go to bed."

Penny gave in to Dawn's request for solitude and returned to the car.

"Please make sure to call me on Monday," Penny called out to her.

Dawn nodded and went in. We drove back to Penny's apartment. Neither of us was in the mood for conversation or romance. The rest of the weekend was somber. I offered to take Penny to a movie, but she said she had work to do and went to the office. I moped around the apartment. Monday, I was at my office when the phone rang.

"Jack Blaine investigations. Jack Blaine speaking. How may I help you," I answered professionally.

"Jack, it's Sally."

Sally was Penny's assistant.

"Can you come down to the office, please? She needs you."

"Is she okay? What's wrong? Is it serious? Did something happen with one of her clients?"

"She's okay and yes, something happened. You really need to come down."

"I'm on my way."

I ran at least half a dozen red lights. It's a miracle I wasn't stopped and arrested. I got to Penny's office in record time and rushed in. Penny was at her desk, her head down, sobbing. I went over and tried to be supportive.

"What's wrong, Honey? Please, tell me. Is it Lavender? Let me help."

She sat up, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"No, it's Dawn. She's dead. I didn't hear from her this morning, so I sent one of the girls around to check. There was no answer. She got the landlady and they opened her room. Oh, Jack, they found her in the bathtub with her wrists slit. She let all the poison out."

Penny started sobbing again. I put my arm around her and held her against my chest. About five minutes passed and she began to recover.

"I have to make arrangements, Jack. I promised her," Penny insisted.

She took some tissues, dried her eyes and blew her nose. Then she got her purse, took out her mirror and fussed with her face. When she finally considered herself presentable, she called Sally in and gave her instructions.

"I'm okay now, Jack. Thank you for coming."

"Is there anything I can do, Penny?"

"No, Honey, I'll talk to you later," she dismissed me and picked up the phone.

I started to leave and then turned round.

"Penny, I kept fifteen hundred dollars of the fee Dr. Benton paid me to find Dawn. I have about nine hundred dollars left. I don't want it. Please use it for her funeral."

"Jack, no, you earned it. It belongs to you. Lola is taking up a collection."

"I wish I had it all, Penny, but what's left is blood money." I winced at the reference, remembering how Dawn died. "Use it," I threatened, "or I will donate it to an AIDS charity."

Penny gave me a loving look and nodded her head.

"I'll write a check to you when I get back to my office," I told her as I was leaving.

Penny found a minister who worked with her program to hold a memorial service and took care of all of the other details necessary for Dawn's funeral. To my surprise, the church was filled. Penny gave a moving eulogy. After the service, a number of us drove out to the cemetery where Dawn's mother was buried.

Everyone gathered at the gravesite and Penny had a small cardboard box with 'Dawn Benton' printed in marker on the side. She unsealed it, held it over the grave and turned it over. A gentle rain of ashes fell out and most were wafted away, a few falling on the grass, together with some small white chips of bone. They dropped down and I thought about how the remains would be washed into the soil and make the grass green. Dawn would have liked that. I discreetly used my sleeve to wipe my nose and dab at my eyes. An entire life in a small cardboard box; I wondered what you did with it after it was empty. Of course, Penny was prepared. She took a lighter out of her pocketbook, held the box out and set it on fire, waiting until most of it was consumed and then letting it fall, the smoke curling up as the remnants blackened and crumbled. Everyone brought a bouquet, which they placed on the ground. We all said our final goodbyes to Dawn and went back to our cars. As we were leaving, I wondered what Dr. Benton would think about the mound of flowers and the tiny patch of burnt grass if he came to visit his wife's grave.

We drove in silence. About half way back, I couldn't control my feelings any longer.

"Penny, I can't go on like this. Please, we need to go away. Somewhere, anywhere, I don't care, just away from all this."

"You mean take a vacation, Jack?"

"No, I don't mean a vacation, Penny."

I paused, gathering my courage.

"I love you. I want us to go somewhere and start a life together, a normal life."

"Are you proposing to me, Jack?"

"Yes," I said without hesitation.

"I love you too, Jack, with all my heart, but I can't marry you."

"You mean you're not physically able?" I mimicked what she asked me when I said I couldn't kiss her.

"Yes, same sex marriages aren't legal in this state, but it's not that. There have been other men. I never talked about them, because they're not important. I didn't love them and they didn't love me. I don't know why they were attracted. I suspect that they were gay or bi and I was a comfortable way for them to avoid the reality. Jack, you gave me a gift more precious than a diamond and more enduring than a gold band. You made me a complete woman by loving me for who I am, not what I am."

"You're talking in riddles, Penny."

"I never thought I would have the kind of true love between a man and a woman that makes them want to have a child together, Jack."

"Is that it? For crying out loud, Penny!" I exclaimed with relief. "It doesn't matter to me. I'd be the world's worst father anyway."

Then I realized that maybe she wanted to have children.

"We can always adopt. I suppose I could learn to be a parent," I equivocated.

"No, it's not about having children. I was talking about commitment."

She gave a little laugh.

"Penny, please don't make fun of me. I'm serious."

"I know, Jack. I was trying to explain my reason and I had a random thought about Spiderman. You know who he is?"

"Of course, but what does a comic book character have to do with this?"

"When he first discovers his abilities, he realizes that with his powers comes the responsibility to use them to help others. It's really an adaptation of an admonition from the Bible that to whomever much is given, a blessing of any kind, from them much is expected. I've been given a gift, Jack. I'm transgendered and by my education and ability, I can help others like me. I can't make a commitment to our happiness at their expense."

"If Dawn and Lavender are examples, you're gift isn't working," I confronted her.

"That's not fair, Jack."

"All's fair in love and war, Penny, and I'm fighting for your love."

Penny was surprised by my unexpected eloquence. So was I.

"You have my love, Jack, forever and always, but you're wrong. Lavenderwas self-destructive and drugs or her lifestyle was going to kill her. It was inevitable. Dawn was a success. I touched her life and she touched the lives of many others. You saw the turnout for her funeral. She was very sick, her liver was failing and every day was a struggle. The only thing that kept her going was the hope that her father might change his mind before her mother died. When she did, there was nothing more to sustain her. I gave her comfort and peace, Jack."

By the time Penny finished, we had reached her apartment building and I pulled into the parking lot.

"Penny, please, can't we at least try? There have to be other ways for you to use your gift."

She shook her head.

"It wouldn't work and eventually you would say the words that would shatter my heart into a million pieces and no amount of remorse or contrition would mend it."

"What words, Penny. I don't understand."

"That you regret loving someone like me, Jack."

"No, I …"

She placed her fingers over my mouth and shook her head. Sliding over, she opened the car door and got out. I watched her walk away. Think Jack, damn it. You do crossword puzzles. Find the words, but there weren't any. Maybe she was right after all, I consoled myself. Her hormones were starting to get to me. Men don't cry.

THE END