Any World (That I'm Welcome In)
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CHAPTER ONE
It was cloyingly hot and humid in the Rossington High School gym as I stood to the side of the basket at the east end. The school year had just ended two days before, and summer workouts were already in progress for the school’s basketball team.
My best friend George Parker was the star point guard, and I was cheering him on as he led the team through seemingly interminable offensive drills. Everyone in the gym was dripping in sweat as it was an unusually sweltering June day, and the administration was taking its sweet time fixing the air conditioning system. Even Coach Bullins’ whistle sounded wet whenever he called for a different play.
I fished in my pants pocket for a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from my forehead. That’s when an errant pass from George hit me smack dab between the eyes, knocking me off my feet. I’m afraid I screamed out in pain as I fell.
“Reggie! Reggie! Are you okay?” George and the rest of the team ran over to my crumpled body. My vision was blurry as I nodded and tried to speak.
“I’m…I’m okay, Georgie. Help me up, will ya?” George pulled me up onto my feet. I wobbled and took a step forward. I caught myself just before my knees buckled, George still holding onto my arm.
“Whoa, Reggie. We should take you to the infirmary,” George said, looking at Coach Bullins for his endorsement.
“Yeah, Coach, let George take his girlfriend to the infirmary, and we can end practice a little early today too—” said Larry, our 6’8” center, as he towered over me, eyeing my face for bruises.
Frowning in Larry’s direction, I quickly waved it off. “I’m all right, guys. Gimme a minute.”
“He looks okay to me. No bruises or cuts from the ball. Walk it off, Perrin,” advised Coach Bullins. I nodded and gave George a reassuring smile.
“Listen.” Coach blew his whistle unnecessarily. It still sounded like a wet fart. “Men, let’s call it a day. It was a very good session. We can improve those screens on the pick and rolls, though.” He paused thoughtfully and then resumed. “Anyway, with the damned AC out, we’ll all drown in a pool of sweat if we go another hour in this heat and humidity. Let’s reconnoiter at ten tomorrow morning. Okay? Dismissed!”
The instant we climbed into George’s mom’s 10-year-old Honda Civic, he turned on the AC.
“Sorry about Larry, Reggie. Sometimes, I think he’s secretly attracted to you.”
“Do you think I look that much like a girl, George? “
George gave me an odd look, and we moved out of the school parking lot.
“I thought your dad promised to buy you a Dodge Challenger for your last birthday,” I teased George.
“That’s before they downsized his firm and reassigned him to the branch office in Keansburg. That’s a two-hour drive twice a day from here in Northern Jersey. He claims the gas and tolls are taking years off his life, not to mention the damage to his wallet. If I graduate on time next June, he’ll buy me a used Challenger.”
“You’ll still be BMOC no matter what you’re driving. You’re in like Flint at Seton Hall.”
“Well, if we don’t make State next year, I’ll probably have to settle for Monmouth. But enough about me. When is your uncle picking you up today?”
“His last class lets out at four, so I guess around five. Oh shit, I’ve got to make sure everything’s turned off and locked up when he picks me up.”
We stopped at one of the few intersections in town, waiting for the lights to turn. George sighed. “Sucks you’re moving to New York. Won’t be the same senior year without my trusty sidekick around—”
“At least I’ll be in town through the summer. I threatened to run away if mom forced me to move right now. I wanted to say goodbye to all my friends—”
“I’m your only friend, Reggie.”
“That’s not true! There’s you…and…and…yeah, you’re right.”
“You and your mom have to work your differences out. I don’t think it’s New York City you’re avoiding. It’s living with your mom.”
“Everything was fine before Dad died.” I started to tear up and pretended to peer out the window to hide my reddening eyes from George. “He was all for me seeking counselling for my…my gender dysphoria—”
“Reggie, you don’t know that’s what’s wrong with you—”
“You sound exactly like my mom. She even thought I was making this shit up to rattle her cage.”
“Yeah, she wasn’t happy when the other parents in the neighborhood complained to her about her 17-year-old son dressing up as Taylor Swift on Halloween.”
“Mom was the one who insisted I chaperone Artie to go trick or treating. I’m surprised there were complaints, George. I thought I looked pretty damn good. I wish I could’ve gotten my hands on a better-quality blonde wig—”
The light turned green, and the old Honda Civic lurched across the intersection. “Come on, Reggie. You’re too smart not to know better. We’re in Northern New Jersey. Cross-dressing isn’t one of the more traditional seasonal activities in these parts.”
“I just want to live my truth. And Dad was really supportive. He was my stepfather, but he loved me like I was his biological child.”
“Your mom loves you too. I’ve known you since you were six years old. I wish my mother doted on me as much as yours does.”
“Then why doesn’t she believe I’m really a girl?”
“Maybe she doesn’t want to lose a son. She already lost a daughter.”
“She gave my twin sister up for adoption when we were two weeks old—”
“She was 16 years old, Reggie. She could barely take care of one baby, much less two. You should consider yourself blessed that she chose to keep you—”
George parked in front of my house. Hurriedly, I leaped from the car so he wouldn’t see the still-wet tracks of tears on my cheeks.
“My uncle will drive me to practice tomorrow morning, so you won’t have to pick me up. Bye!” George waved and drove off. I wiped my cheeks with the handkerchief I had been reaching for when the ball conked me and, composing myself, stepped into my empty house.
I sat on the stoop of my soon-to-be former house, waiting for Uncle Richie’s car to pull up to the curb. On either side of me sat two oversized suitcases containing all my worldly goods, including clothes, books, laptops, and a 2TB external drive containing my favorite music, movies, and data files. The sky was darkening, presaging a summer shower.
Hurry up, Unc, I’ve locked up the house. Don’t feel like going back inside, even for a few minutes. I looked up, and Uncle Richie was already hefting both suitcases and heading back to his car.
“It’s going to come down like a monsoon any minute now, Reggie. Let’s move it!”
Uncle Richie lived only a couple of miles away, on the edge of town, steps away from the interstate. He’d purchased the ramshackle pile of junk when he got his tenured position in the Contemporary History faculty of Parsons State University, just two townships over from Rossington.
The renovation project never quite progressed as he’d planned. All his free time was devoted to his obsession: what he called “the strangeness beyond.” It’s the title of his only published book. You might have even read it. Mom told me the Discovery Channel approached him about doing a TV series based on his book. It’d be weird seeing my kooky uncle on TV talking about UFOs, ancient aliens, and bigfoot.
Rain fell like pellets, impacting the windshield before being swept away with the rhythmic doggedness of the wipers.
Uncle Richie turned to me, which worried me, so I kept my eyes on the road ahead. “Why didn’t you go with your mom and Artie? A summer in New York City would’ve been pretty exciting when I was 17, I can tell you.”
“Ever since Dad died…”
“Yeah, you and your mom have been at odds. She even asked me for advice. She didn’t take it though—”
“What did you tell her?”
We were outside Richie’s quaint, baroque-style house (I mean broke). He shut off the engine and turned toward me again.
“I told her that I’ve suspected you were always a girl. A girl trapped in a boy’s body. I could tell that from the time you were 4 years old, and your grandmother tried to give you a toy firetruck and you screamed your head off because you wanted a My Little Pony jewelry box, like the one your cousin Cindy got.”
“I was a little brat, wasn’t I?”
“You know it. Well, anyway, I told your mom to find proper counseling for you because I had little doubt you were suffering from gender dysphoria. But she wouldn’t hear any of it.”
“I’m not going to New York. I told her I’d run away…if it came to that.”
“That’s why I suggested you stay with me for the summer. At least until she and Artie can find a permanent place to live, and she settles into her new job. By September, the two of you can declare a ceasefire. She’ll come around, Reggie. She does love you.”
“I’ll be 18 next March. Then she can’t tell me what to do. At all!” I took one of the suitcases, and Uncle Richie carried the other as we entered his house.
The rest of the week, Uncle Richie would drive me to basketball practice in the mornings. He only had two classes for the summer semester, so he’d usually go back home after dropping me off and work on his follow-up to “Strangeness Beyond.”
After practice, George and I would spend the rest of the day driving around in his mom’s junky old car, visiting people and places as they came about. One afternoon, we ran into his putative girlfriend, Winifred, while walking down the main drag in town, Dowd Avenue, looking through the shop windows.
I say putative since Winnie (as she prefers) acts rather blasé about her relationship with George. I’ve told George she probably has a number of out-of-town boyfriends. Maybe even dudes on rival high school basketball squads.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the odd couple.” She brushed her cheek against George’s and then stared down at me (I’m only 5’6”, and she’s practically a giantess). “I heard you’re moving to New York City, Reggie. I’d be careful with the cross-dressing there. You never know if Taylor Swift is in town. She might pitch a hissy fit. You look more like her than she does.” She cackled at her own witticism.
“Leave Reggie alone, Winnie. He’s not a pervert. It was a Halloween costume for chrissake.”
“Live and let live, I always say. Anyway, I’m late for a salon appointment. Have fun, boys…and girls!” She exited stage left, cackling all the way down the street.
“You really like her, George?”
“She’s got her good points. Come on, I’m hungry. There’s a White Castle about three blocks that way.”
I found myself early Saturday morning carrying an open laptop and entering numbers on an Excel spreadsheet as Uncle Richie barked out readings from the magnetometer he was pointing at the ground in Parsons State Park. We seemed to be walking in ever-widening circles across the vast green expanse dotted with white birch and red oak trees. Besides occasionally stumbling on picnic blankets and camping gear, I tried to keep him from blindly walking into Parsons Lake.
“Vortices, Reggie. Vortices, or portals, are areas of heightened levels of electromagnetism. Did you know there have been a dozen cases of unexplained disappearances in this park in just the past decade?”
“They probably drowned in the lake, Uncle Richie.”
“63 uT. A little high but not unusual. Got that, Reggie? Put it in the right cell on the grid sheet now. We want the map to be accurate. Drowned in the lake? No, sir. They dragged the lake in each case. No bodies.”
“Eaten by bears?”
“The largest mammals in the park are otters, squirrels, and foxes. Little chance of being some cute critter’s dinner. No, I believe they slipped into another dimension, a parallel universe. Unable or unwilling to return.”
“You’re serious about this shit, aren’t you?”
“Serious enough to spend every weekend this summer surveying the electromagnetic fields in this park. There’s something strange going on here, and I’m going to find out what it is.”
“New York City doesn’t seem such a bad idea right now.”
Laughing, Uncle Richie stopped a few yards short of the lake. “Reggie, you’re under no obligation to come with me and help me with the survey. I can handle this myself. Why don’t you hook up with your friend George and go joyriding or whatever teenage boys do these days?”
“He’s taking Winnie to the multiplex to see the new Tommy Kincaid movie this afternoon, and then his cousin’s getting married tomorrow in Bergenfield. His mom says he’s gotta go. And then most weekends this summer, his folks rent a house on the Shore in Sea Bright…”
“Well, then, you’re stuck with me, old boy. Let’s continue, okay?”
When my stepfather Nick first moved in with us, even before Mom and he got married, I was three years old and gave my mother fits because I wouldn’t sleep through the night, sometimes two or three times a week. Nick would come into my room and entertain me until I fell asleep by making hand shadows against the wall in my room, which was dimly lit by a small lamp because I was afraid of the dark.
Years later, I would learn that Nick was practicing an art form called shadowgraphy. He could tell whole stories populated by shadow horses, rabbits, birds, dogs, and even people!
As I lay in my sleeping bag in the tent Uncle Richie had erected, unable to sleep, not a little disturbed by his loud, rhythmic snoring, I made hand shadows against the side of the tent to amuse myself.
“That’s pretty good, Reggie.”
“Oh, sorry, Uncle Richie. I guess I was being too loud—”
“Cut the sarcasm, kid. Can’t sleep?”
“Yeah, it’s weird trying to sleep in a tent in the middle of a wilderness park.”
“We can talk. I can bore you to sleep.”
“So, why are you so obsessed with the possible vortex in this park? I mean, why not Yosemite or Mount Shasta? As a college professor, you get your summers off. You could spend months exploring those places.”
“About five years ago, I met a guy named Grant Moorefield at a Strange Phenomena Convention in Buffalo. We hit it off immediately. We were both into arcane, supernatural, even extraterrestrial scenarios. He was a freelance writer. Sadly, he was barely making a living at it.
I invited him to town specifically to investigate the disappearances in Parsons State Park. He was very excited about being the first to write about the park. One day we split up to better use our limited time and he walked toward the lake. I went off in the opposite direction. Night came and he never returned to our camp site. He just disappeared.
They dragged the lake, searched with bloodhounds, even flew a helicopter over the entire 10,000 acres of the park. Nothing. No body. Not even a stitch of clothing.”
“You think he stumbled into a vortex, a portal into another dimension?”
“Maybe. But I get the feeling he didn’t stumble. He wanted to find the vortex and escape into another reality. He was very unhappy. Unfulfilled, you’d say. I suspect he’s happier wherever he is now.”
“How can you say that? You’re just taking a shot in the dark.”
“About a year after he disappeared, I kept having this weird dream. It was as if Grant was communicating with me through the curtain that separates this world from his. He looked pretty much the same as before he went missing, except he had this really broad smile on his face all the time. He told me he had passed over into a parallel universe, almost identical to ours. A few things were different. Important things. Like the Grant in that world was his twin. Of course, he didn’t have a twin brother in our universe.”
“Uncle Richie, you’ve been partaking too much of the ganja—”
“Never touch the stuff. No, listen, I had these dreams almost nightly for almost a month. It was like I was watching a docuvideo! Ultimately, Grant said he was the happiest he’s ever been, and he wouldn’t return even if there was a way he could. His twin and he host a very popular podcast on strange phenomena. They make millions! Then the dreams stopped. It’s been years.”
Uncle Richie went silent. He seemed to be lost in contemplation of Grant’s journey into the unknown. At least he wasn’t snoring anymore. My uncle didn’t exactly bore me to sleep, but I was definitely pretty tired. I slipped into unconsciousness and hoped not to see Grant in my dreams.
I woke with a start in the middle of the night. I looked to my left and saw Uncle Richie in a deep sleep, his snoring now only a quiet, occasional rumble of breath. I lay back down, intending to resume my slumber, but found I felt compelled to extricate myself from my sleeping bag. I didn’t bother to put on anything over my skivvies and lifted the tent flap.
The night sky was filled with bright, twinkling stars. There was a warm breeze, and the air smelled of oak wood and earth. I felt myself pulled in the direction of the lake and almost mechanically walked toward its shore. I fought myself to turn back from the water, but, in the wink of an eye, I sank into the lake, the bottom sloping down, down, down.
I was drowning but I was still breathing. Breathing something that seemed to be both liquid and gaseous. An impossibility. I kept moving forward. The water, if that was what it was, was pitch black. I must be dying. This is what it must be like to die.
I emerged into the sunlight and inhaled gulps of air as if I had been holding my breath for long minutes. Walking out of the water onto the lakeshore, I noticed I was completely dry. As I looked myself over, I also noticed I was wearing a completely different set of clothes than when I woke up in the tent. In fact, I realized I was wearing a glittery t-shirt with a floral pattern, a belted pair of light-wash straight-leg jeans, and a pair of white sneakers.
What a teenage girl would wear! That’s when curiosity got the better of me, and I looked down my shirt to see I had small but perky, braless breasts. There was also the absence of something down there between my legs. The facts hit me like a two-by-four to my noggin. I had somehow been turned into a girl!
I searched my surroundings for the tent. I turned around in a 360-degree pivot and was certain I was in the exact location where our tent was minutes ago or was it last night? It looked like late afternoon as the sun was low in the sky. How was that possible? But then, how was it that I had been transformed into a girl? Was I in a parallel dimension, another universe where Reggie Perrin was a female?
There were a few campers and hikers in the park who crossed my path as I wandered, looking for any sign of my uncle. My anxiety edged into panic as late afternoon started to turn into evening. I was still moving about in muted sunlight, but it had to be close to 6 o’clock.
I patted down my pockets and realized I had neither a phone nor a wallet on me. I had determined to make my way back to town to my uncle’s house in the hope that he existed in this universe, but now, with no money to hop on a bus or a phone to order an Uber, I decided to make my way out to the highway and try to hitch a ride home. Thumb out, I confirmed the belief that nobody wants to take the chance of picking up some likely homicidal maniac.
The one guy who offered was an older dude with a leering eye. I thanked him but declined, backing up so far I almost fell into the brush by the side of the road. After about half an hour, a familiar-looking silver SUV stopped on a dime ten feet ahead of me.
I was so tired from walking that I ran toward the car, throwing caution to the wind. The driver powered down the passenger side window and turned to address me. The surprise in his eyes turned to anger when he saw me.
“Regina! What the hell are you doing out in the middle of nowhere, thumbing a ride? Are you insane?”
“Dad? But… you’re…you’re dead.”
THE END OF CHAPTER ONE
Any World (That I'm Welcome In) - Ch. 2
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CHAPTER TWO
“With everything your mother and I have done to help you with transitioning. The… the doctors, the therapist, getting you started on hormones, and all the legal rigmarole…the school administration thought we were all insane! I wanted to throttle that Bible-thumping bitch on the board. Now, just because your first week back in school was a little awkward and some stupid kids said some mean things to you, you’re running away from home? Where were you planning to run to? Huh?”
I was in a mild state of shock as I sat silent in the passenger seat next to a man who was a doppelganger for my deceased stepfather, Nick Perrin. He was talking a mile a minute and pushing the speed limit in an SUV that looked exactly like the one we drove at home. Home! I’m not in Kansas anymore. Or Rossington, New Jersey. Then it hit me. Dad mentioned the first week of school. But it was the middle of June just an hour ago.
“Regina, are you listening to me? Your mother’s probably climbing the walls wondering where the hell you are. It’s half past six already. How’d you get yourself going the wrong way out there by the lake?”
I looked at the digital clock on top of the dashboard and it read 6:38PM, 9/7, 63° F. Where did 3 months of my life go?
“We could always talk, honey. We’re sympatico. Remember the hand shadows I made that got you to fall asleep? That one time you told me you were really a girl, even though mom kept telling you to stop joking around.” Nick sighed as he made a right turn onto Windsor Lane, just 10 minutes from the house. “Running away won’t help at all. If you think school is too much of a gauntlet to run, your uncle can get you into Parsons Academy. Maybe you can qualify for a scholarship. Nah, your grades aren’t good enough. You used to be such a good student, Regina! If it comes to it, we’ll use the small inheritance your mother received from your grandpa’s estate.”
I wanted to speak. I wanted to tell the Nick Perrin in this world that I wasn’t his “Regina.” But who would believe I had stumbled into a parallel universe, their universe, and I was a girl now, not a boy? My lips trembled but no words emerged. I turned to look out the window as we headed home. My home away from home?
“Your mom’s gonna tear you a new one when she sees you, Regina. Just prepare yourself. That silent act won’t work on her.”
Nick took my arm and marched me toward the front stoop of the house. We passed my six-year-old brother Artie’s aquamarine Guardian bike lying sprawled on the front lawn.
“Damn that boy! Why does he think I built that bike shelter in the backyard? Your mother will never discipline him for anything…”
As Nick struggled with the sticky lock on our front door, muttering under his breath, I could hear the undeniable voice of my mother speaking in a bristling tone of voice.
“Reggie! I don’t want you showing Artie those anime cartoons. They’re not suitable for a six-year-old. And now that you’re a girl, I’d think you wouldn’t be wasting your time with that silly—”
Then I heard what was unmistakably my own voice raised in reply.
“Mom! Plenty of girls like watching anime. And they’re not silly!”
Artie interjected, “I think they’re funny, mommy.”
Nick and I entered the house. We stood just outside the living room as everyone’s heads swiveled to take in the shocking sight that I must have presented to them. And them to me!
For a long minute, the five of us comprised a tableau vivant out of a Victorian Era drawing room. Our mouths were agape. Finally, Nick and mom shouted in unison, “What’s going on!”
“Mommy, she looks just like Regina! Dad, who is she?” asked Artie as he cowered behind his older sister, who had dropped the cartoon-streaming tablet onto the floor, causing it to redound with a metallic thud.
“I…I thought she was Regina. I picked her up walking by the side of the road near the lake.” He dramatically dropped his hand from my arm and angrily asked, “Who the hell are you?”
I looked at the apprehensive expressions on their faces. The other me had a look of existential horror in her crudely mascaraed eyes.
“Re…ggie…gie…gie?”
“Gigi? Your name is Gigi?” asked mom as she came forward, placing her hands on either cheek. “Don’t be scared, Gigi. Are you a runaway? Are you from this area? We can get in touch with your folks—”
“Maybe she’s running away from her folks, mom! Maybe they’re abusing her—”
“Is that why you ran away, Gigi?” Mom’s expression changed as she seemed to be examining my face closely in her hands. “You can trust us. We’ll help if we can…”
“I’m not a runaway. I’m…I’m lost…my way.”
“Where were you headed, trying to hitch a ride? You should have said something instead of letting me keep thinking you were my daughter.”
I couldn’t think of anything to say. Not anything that would sound sane. So, I just kept quiet and fidgeted with my hands behind me.
“Nick, I know who she is!” She grabbed my arms and unintentionally shook me like a life-size plush doll. Then, shockingly, she hugged me, her voice wavering as she tried to get the words out.
“It’s Regina’s twin sister! My long-lost daughter! She’s come back to me. Oh, dear God, thank you! Thank you!”
“Sara, you’re tripping. Sure, she looks a lot like Regina but how in the world do you get the idea she’s her twin sister?”
“Come, Regina, Artie! Meet your sister Gigi!” She smothered me with kisses and then turned me to face Regina and Artie. “Say hello to your sister.” Artie looked up at me and then at Regina. Cautiously, he reached out his little hand to shake mine. Regina crossed her arms and bade me a barely audible greeting.
“Sara, I say we notify the authorities. Even if, by some mysterious twist of fate, Gigi is actually Regina’s long-lost twin, her parents are, I’m sure, anxiously looking for her.”
“Her adoptive parents, you mean.” Mom stood by her conviction that I was Regina’s twin sister, reunited with her after 17 years.
“Mom, Gigi’s barely said two sentences since she came into the house. Maybe we can hear from her who she is and who or what she’s running from? Call me overly cautious but she looks like a crazy person to me—”
“Regina! Don’t ever call your sister a crazy person! You spent nine months inside me like two peas in a pod.”
“Maybe I should go?”
“Where would you go? Back on the highway, thumbing rides from strange men? No, it’s late. We’ll deal with the issue of your identity tomorrow. You must be hungry. Please have dinner with us. And stay the night. Nick has to go to work tomorrow but I’ll take the day off and sort everything out. Do you trust me?”
I looked into my mother’s eyes and could only nod my head in assent. She kissed my forehead, and I felt the urge to kiss her back, maybe even hug her. It had been a long time since my ‘real’ mother had showered me with so much affection.
“Regina, show Gigi where to wash up. Dinner will be ready in ten minutes.”
Artie bent down to pick the tablet off the floor. It was still streaming the latest episode of Demon Slayer.
“Artie! Turn that off. I don’t want you watching those things.”
“Maahmmeeeee!”
Dinner was a cavalcade of awkward, tense moments. Everyone at the table except mom either ignored me or cast occasional suspicious glances at me. For the most part, we ate in guarded silence. I was famished and attacked mom’s delicious Spaghetti Bolognese with the fervor of a soup kitchen patron.
“Regina used to love my Spaghetti Bolognese. She always asked for seconds, even thirds.”
“I’m trying to watch my figure, mom.”
“You want George to watch your figure, that’s who,” teased Artie.
Mom laughed and then plopped more spaghetti on my plate. “Artie, pass your sister the sauce bowl, please. No, dear, Gigi, not Regina. Your other sister.”
“Sara, let’s not put the cart before the horse. We have to confirm who…uh…Gigi really is.”
“It’s obvious, Nick. I know my own daughter when I see her. Just look at her. You immediately thought she was Regina! At first sight!”
“Okay, okay. Can we finish our dinner without getting into a fruitless argument? The light of day should reveal the truth. Maybe Gigi here will come clean—”
“She’s my baby and that’s that!” A moment of uncomfortable silence passed before everyone resumed eating. Artie stared at me. A smile curled his lips slowly as he passed me the sauce bowl and ladle, holding it in both hands.
After dinner, while Regina helped mom in the kitchen load everything into the dishwasher, Nick, Artie and I sequestered ourselves in the living room. Nick turned on the Mets game and let the day’s travails slide out of his consciousness. The world shrunk for him to the space between the pitcher’s mound and the batter’s box.
Artie excitedly asked me to play a video game with him.
“Regina doesn’t play with me anymore since she became my sister instead of my brother. She says I only play kiddie games and she’s a grown up now. Do you think video games are just for little kids?”
I walked over to the media cabinet and picked up the Nintendo Switch from the shelf below our flat-screen TV. Nick’s eyes never left the Mets game. Artie was stunned as I placed it down on the floor between us and proceeded to set up Mario Kart 8 for 2 players. I detached both controllers and handed one to Artie. We played for almost two hours. I was surprised Artie wasn’t getting sleepy. Maybe because I kept letting him win. He did better than the Mets that night.
“Artie, time for bed. It’s almost 9 o’clock. You’re supposed to be in bed by 8:30—”
“Aww, mommy, I’m killing Gigi in Kart 8—”
“You can play with Gigi tomorrow after school. And watch your language. Regina, did you finish your homework?”
“No, mom. I’ll do it now. The Mets are losing anyway.” She got up from the couch and accompanied Artie up the stairs to their bedrooms.
“Gigi, I imagine you’d like to shower before bedtime. I’ll have Regina lend you a pair of her old boy pajamas. I’m sure they’ll fit your perfectly. And we’ll wash what you’re wearing now tomorrow morning. Come with me. You can use the kids’ bathroom.” I followed her as she led the way upstairs.
I stood inches away from the stream of warm water gushing out of the shower head as I used a bright pink sponge to lather myself up with Regina’s bottle of body wash. I couldn’t help myself, but I played with the new equipment, especially my small but perky breasts. As I pinched my pert nipples, hoping the sound of the shower would cancel my embarrassing moaning, I recalled with a wry poignancy the recent off-the-cuff conversation I’d had with George on the optimal size of a girl’s breasts.
“I know why you like Winnie so much, Georgie,” I laughed as we walked toward the White Castle at the end of the town’s main drag, Dowd Avenue, after encountering Winnie on her way to her salon appointment.
“Because she’s pretty, smart, funny, and our school’s top cheerleader?”
“No, because she’s got huge bazooms.” My giggling ticked George off.
“Not true. I’m quite happy with a girl that’s got just a couple of handfuls. Breast size isn’t a deal breaker for me. Now, I do like a nice booty—”
Reflexively, I looked behind me for a second before asking George, “Did you think I looked nice wearing that Taylor Swift costume for Halloween? I stuffed some socks in my bra, but the rest was really me.” As we entered White Castle, I jutted out my rear end in his direction.
“Reggie! Stop it. I’m beginning to think my mom’s right about you.”
“And what does Mater say about me?”
He lowered his voice as a pair of middle-aged women walked past.
“She thinks you should have been born a girl.”
My reverie was disturbed by Regina’s booming voice behind the bathroom door cutting through the sound of the shower.
“Hey, Gigi. I’m leaving the pajamas on the doorknob for you. I think it’ll fit you okay.”
Mom pulled out the bed from our convertible sofa and set it up with sheets, a blanket, and pillows. I was wearing the pajamas Regina had lent me. Of course, they looked exactly like the pajamas I had worn until six months ago when I stole one of George’s basketball tops to sleep in. The shirt came almost to my knees and hung loose from my shoulders. Mom wasn’t too amused when she came in to wake me up one morning and discovered me practically swaddled in it under the sheets.
I was still wide awake when Regina’s mom (it’s so weird to think of her as my mother) tiptoed into the living room at a few minutes past midnight. It wasn’t easy to fall asleep, even in such eerily familiar surroundings. The last time I’d slept on the sofa was when my stepdad’s Aunt Remy stayed with us to be at Artie’s christening when he was three months old.
“I figured you’d still be awake. It’s been quite a day, I’m sure. But you’re home now. Oh, and you kept the lamp on. Regina always sleeps with a night light too. You truly are twins.”
“I’ll leave tomorrow morning after washing my clothes. You’ve been awfully nice, but I don’t belong here. My home is a world away. Literally.”
“Nonsense, Gigi. You’re my child. You’re where you’ve always belonged.” She sat down on the pull-out bed and rubbed her cheek against mine. Her tears mingled with mine as I couldn’t help reaching up to hug her.
“Mom. I’m sorry. I’m sorry…”
“No, honey, I’m the one who needs to apologize to you. I should never have let your grandfather give you up for adoption. I didn’t even get to have a say in the whole thing—”
“Mom, you were 16. You were just a child yourself.”
“Your grandfather told me girls were easier to get adopted. He lied because he valued a grandson more than a granddaughter. I love Reggie, I mean Regina, now that she’s transitioning…but not a day went by when I didn’t cry over losing my first-born little baby girl. My heart was broken, torn apart, but now you’re back with me…finally!” Her luminous smile had enough candlepower to light up the entire house. I had never seen her this happy. Had she ever looked at me with such joyous affection and love? She wiped the tears from my face and kissed me once more on my forehead. Pulling the blanket up to my chin, she blew me a kiss and tiptoed out of the room.
My conversation with my parallel mother kept me awake. The depth of her loss in giving up my twin sister for adoption wounded my self-worth. She had always loved the absent twin, not the one she felt burdened with. The one that made her grow up much too fast and made her settle for community college and a drudge job in a mall shop. The one who made her accept a marriage proposal from a man whose prospects would never rise above the horizon of adequacy. I was still sniffling into my pillow when I realized Regina was standing by the sofa bed, staring at me.
“You’re awake. Good. Let me ask you. Who the fuck are you and what’s your game?”
THE END OF CHAPTER TWO
Any World (That I'm Welcome In) - Ch. 3
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CHAPTER THREE
I wiped my dripping nose and turned to face Regina’s angry expression as she stood looming above the sofa bed. I didn’t know how to answer her accusatory question. Tense seconds passed between us, punctuated by a whimper from me.
Abruptly, she sank to her knees and her eyes beseeched me.
“Are you really my twin sister? How could you not be? We look exactly alike…except you’re prettier. You’re a real girl—”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you who I really am. And it doesn’t matter. I’m leaving tomorrow morning as soon as I wash my clothes.”
“No, you can’t leave! Even if you’re not my twin. Mom is convinced you are. And I’ve never seen her so happy in years. Maybe ever—”
Tears cascaded down my cheeks again as I nodded, reaching out to grasp Regina’s hands. Not to Regina but to someone a world away, I whispered hoarsely between loud sobs.
“I’m sorry, mom! I’m sorry…”
“You really are my twin! But why are you apologizing? You were barely two weeks old when they took you away.”
“I’m not your twin, Regina.”
“Then who? Who are you?”
“I’ll tell you, but you won’t believe me—”
“Try me.”
I told her I was her in a parallel universe. A universe where no one, not least mom, took my gender dysphoria seriously. I refused to move to New York City with mom and Artie after our stepdad died. I threatened to run away because no one would listen to me. To believe I was really a girl, trapped in a boy’s body. Mom agreed to let me spend the summer in town with Uncle Richie and join them when they found a permanent place to live. But secretly, I was going to run away. I’ll be 18 in March. I wouldn’t need her consent to start on hormones and eventually get the surgery done.
“But how did you end up here…in my world?”
I told Regina about Uncle Richie investigating vortices in Parsons State Park and how I helped him draw up an electromagnetic field map of spots where people had mysteriously disappeared.
“Well, that sounds like kooky Uncle Richie, all right.”
“I thought I was going to drown in the lake, but it was like someone snapped their fingers and I came out bone dry, dressed like a girl and actually being a girl. I tried to find Uncle Richie, but he was nowhere in sight. So, I decided to walk back to Uncle Richie’s house. That’s when your stepdad picked me up on the highway. I was so stunned he was alive that I was struck dumb. I didn’t say a word until we got home.”
“I can’t process all this. It must be true. You look exactly like me, and you know every detail of our lives, except for some obvious differences. But it’s like science fiction. Parallel universes, vortices…” Regina squeezed my hands. “You can’t leave. To mom, you’re her long lost baby girl. She’d be devastated if you dropped in and out of her life like this.”
“I should leave. Maybe there’s a way to get back to my universe. I don’t belong here.”
“You don’t know if there’s a way back. Probably you’re stuck here. And you’re what you’ve always wanted to be…a real girl! A real one. You can probably have babies! What I wouldn’t give to be in your place—”
Mom appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. She had come out to pour herself a glass of water.
“Girls! It’s late. Regina, you have school tomorrow. Go back to bed. You have the rest of your lives to engage in sister talk.”
“Yes, mom,” we said in unison.
“You’re right, Sara. She’s the spitting image of Regina. It’s remarkable.”
I looked up from my bowl of Fruit Loops and met Uncle Richie’s astonished stare. Of course, it was “parallel” Uncle Richie, not the one back home. I had been finishing up breakfast with mom. She had taken the day off from work to babysit me. Or watch guard over me? Nick, Artie, and Regina had already left the house more than an hour before. I was waiting for my clothes to stop tumble drying.
“Gigi, this is my brother, your Uncle Richie. I asked him to come by—”
“Yeah, he’s obsessed with bizarre, inexplicable things. Like me?”
“How would you know that, Gigi?”
I realized I had slipped and immediately replied, “Regina told me all about you…last night.”
“Gigi, why don’t you check to see if your clothes are dry? I want to speak to your uncle privately for a minute. And just put Regina’s pajamas in the hamper.”
Reluctantly, I rose from the kitchen table, placed my bowl and utensils in the sink, and walked briskly toward the back of the house where the utility room was, with its door opening into our garage. I overheard mom whispering to Uncle Richie, “It’s spooky how she seems to know her way around the house blindfolded.” I smiled to myself. Of course, I was home. Sort of.
I pulled my clothes out of the dryer. Irresistibly, I pressed them against my nose to take in their warm, clean, floral scent. I was about to strip off my pajamas and change back into my t-shirt and jeans when the urge to eavesdrop on mom and Uncle Richie became too much to ignore. Like Spiderman, I plastered myself against the walls and tried to maintain radio silence as I approached the kitchen.
“Selective amnesia can occur after traumatic or stressful experiences. Like collateral victims of war, natural disasters, the death of a loved one, sexual abuse, rape—”
“Oh God no! Not my sweet baby girl! You think she’s running away from abusive parents?”
“Happens, Sara. Happens. Unfortunately.”
“I don’t know who adopted her. It’s the damned law. They strip the birth mother of any parental rights. I have no idea what kind of hellish childhood Gigi had.”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions—”
“That’s all you ever do, Richie. You believe in ancient aliens for godsake!”
“I’ll tell you what. I have some contacts in the courthouse. Maybe I can find out who the adoptive parents are. Then check into the situation. It might just be a relatively trivial parent-child conflict.”
“It can’t be trivial if she claims to not even remember the names of her parents or where she lives. I’m not even sure her name is really Gigi—”
“But you’re sure she’s your daughter?”
“A mother knows her own child. Even separated by seventeen years.”
“What does Nick have to say about this?”
“He has no say. She’s my child, not his. Any objection he has is a non-starter.”
“Okay, Sara. I’ll get on it immediately. Hopefully, I’ll have the lowdown on her by sometime next week. This might cost me an uncomfortable date with a less than desirable companion.”
“I owe you, brother.”
Sensing their conversation was about to end, I ran back to the utility room and hurriedly changed clothes. I heard the front door slam shut just as I arrived in the kitchen.
“I feel like getting some fresh air…uh…mom.”
“Don’t go too far, Gigi. The streets in this neighborhood can be very confusing. You could get lost.”
“Mr. Tubbs knew the neighborhood streets as well as any human,” I said under my breath.
“How do you know about our dog? Poor mutt had to be put down last year. Regina cried for a week after.”
“Oh, Regina told me about Mr. Tubbs last night.”
“Quite a conversation you two had.”
“I’ll be back in a few.”
I almost stumbled over the steps of our stoop as I ran to intercept Richie before he drove off.
“Uncle Richie! Wait! I need to talk to you.”
Richie unlocked the doors and I scooted into the passenger seat next to him.
“Let me guess. Your name’s not really Gigi.”
“I can tell you because if you’re anything like my Uncle Richie you’ll believe what I’m about to say.”
“Shoot.”
“I’m Reggie, your nephew.” Richie arched one eyebrow and was about to speak when the torrent of words just spilled out of me.
I essentially gave him the same summary I had offered Regina last night. I spoke quickly and barely took a breath, not allowing Richie to interrupt. Finally, I stopped. He scratched his head and threw it back against the headrest. He whistled.
“At first, I was thinking I’m talking to a lunatic but…you know too much you couldn’t possibly know…unless you’re actually telling the truth. I’ve never told anyone about the vortices in Parsons State Park. Not even Regina. She’s a skeptic like almost everyone else. Your mom…I mean Regina’s mom…doesn’t even believe in Santa Claus, for godsake.”
“Is there a way I can get back to my own universe?”
“Who knows? No one’s ever come back to tell us. It’s like a black hole. You have to pass through the singularity to find out. No one’s gone through and come back out…as far as we know.”
“I could retrace my steps. Go back into the lake.”
“It might work but, Reggie, you might just end up in yet another universe. And you’ll probably not be a girl in that one either.”
“Wait a minute. Grant Moorefield! He went through that same vortex, and he even communicated with you in dreams afterwards. We can contact him here. He’ll be able to help me.”
“Is that one of the Moorefield brothers? The ones with the podcast? What’s it named? Oh, yeah. ‘Beyond Bizarre.’ I don’t know him, Reggie. You’re talking about the one in your universe. The Grant Moorefield in this universe might not be the same dude.”
“Shit, shit, shit.”
“In the meanwhile, Reggie, just chill. Nothing’s going to happen until we get your identity cleared up. It’s just a hunch but we’re not going to run into Regina’s real twin anytime soon.”
“How’s that?”
“The laws of conservation of mass and energy, kid.”
“That’s physics, Uncle Richie. You’re a Contemporary History professor, remember? We’re not talking about chemical reactions.”
“You’re definitely not the Reggie I know from this universe. Regina only cracks a textbook under threat of being left back a grade.”
As Richie drove away, my shoulders drooped on my slow walk back to our house. Facing an uncertain future in a completely alien parallel universe can really bring you down. A familiar face appeared above the hedge bordering our house with our neighbor’s. It was Mrs. Gillespie, a 70-year-old widow who lived alone, spending most of her time tending to her extensive flower garden. During the warm months of the year, the pungent scent of a dozen varieties of flowers wafted from her backyard. Good thing no one in our family suffered from allergies.
“Oh, Regina, nice to see you. No school today?”
“Uh, good morning, Mrs. Gillespie. Just a little under the weather. But I’m already feeling a whole lot better. The fresh air helps.”
“I understand. I hated going to school on a nice day like today when I was your age too. I must say, Regina, I can’t believe you were a boy named Reggie just a little more than six months ago. You look so beautiful now. Like you were meant to be. I’m glad your parents finally saw the light.” She disappeared behind the hedge for a second before popping back up, a single red rose in her right hand. “I just took some cuttings this morning. Here, this is for you, dear. One of many you’ll receive from your future swains, I’m sure.”
I took the rose from her and thanked her. The petals tickled my nose as I breathed in its perfume.
“O my love is like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung in June.
O my love is like the melody
That’s sweetly played in tune.”
“Robert Burns, the Scottish Bard. Do you still read him in school, dear?”
I blushed a rosy, red hue as Mrs. Gillespie smiled at me over the hedge.
When I eventually returned from my “fresh air” jaunt, mom motioned me over to the kitchen table. She patted the chair next to her. I plopped myself down.
“You need several changes of clothes. Some tops, slacks, skirts, socks, tights, panties…and, oh yes, some bras. I really don’t think a proper young lady should go around braless. Your adoptive parents let you walk around like that?”
“I…I don’t know. I don’t even remember how I ended up dressed like this yesterday.”
“Well, let’s not worry about that right now. Uncle Richie will get to the bottom of it soon hopefully. As for now, I want Regina to take you to the mall tomorrow and shop for what you need. I’d take you myself, but I had to switch days at work to take off today. Now I’ll have to work the weekend to make up for it.”
“I’m sorry you had to do that, mom. I’m causing you so much trouble—”
She reached over and held my face in her hands, tenderly.
“No trouble, honey. Never. I just love having my baby girl back. And you’ll have so much fun shopping with your sister Regina. You know, just a month ago she had her first bra fitting and she was so proud. All she does now is read fashion magazines. I wish she’d apply herself more to her studies. I’m afraid she’s going to be as boy crazy as I was at her age.”
“I can’t stand taking the bus everywhere,” Regina almost screamed as we entered The Westfield Garden State Plaza in Paramus, a mall I’d been to countless times in my life. I could recall shopping for mom’s birthday gift here just two months ago…in my universe. “I bet you drove back home in your world.”
“No such luck. I got my license but then dad died…my dad…and we couldn’t afford to get me a car. Even a beat-up used one. Why doesn’t Nick buy you one?”
“Well…I know they’ve had to spend a lot on my counseling and hormone therapy. I feel like I’ve been enough of a financial burden on them. Neither of their health plans cover my…stuff.”
“You’re a good daughter, Regina. Better than I was…”
“Well, you can turn over a new leaf now, Gigi. Ha ha. Reggie—”
“It’ll be different having a sister. And being a sister!”
“You and me against the world, sister!” She hooked her arm into mine and we started to traipse through the mall, singing the Laverne & Shirley song like a couple of lunatic teenage girls (which we were!).
“Schlemiel! Schlimazel! Hasenpfeffer Incorporated.”
People in the mall couldn’t help but stop and shoot us some curious looks. Some laughed. Some snickered and shook their heads. More than a couple of teenage boys whistled and pointed at us.
“We’re getting a lot of attention, Regina. They’ll call the men in the white suits with fish nets to take us away soon.”
We sang even louder as we made our way through the expansive concourse, headed for the row of teen apparel shops on the first level of the mall. Suddenly, Regina stopped singing and pulled me over into a side corridor behind a T-Mobile store.
“What?”
“It’s George Parker and that bitch Winnie Schlitter! I don’t want them to see me!”
“George is my best friend in the world and Winnie…sure she’s a bit much but what do you expect from the head cheerleader who dates our star basketball player—”
“Basketball? He’s the quarterback on the football team! George and I used to be best friends forever. Then I started transitioning and he’s given me the cold shoulder ever since. He acts like I’m some kind of monster. It makes me…” Regina’s eyes started to redden.
“Well, well. If it isn’t the girly boy itself. Hello, Reggie. Or do you prefer your alter ego, Regina?”
Discovered, we came out from hiding. I tried to stay a couple of paces behind Regina, raising the hood of the pullover I’d borrowed from her to obscure my face and turning slightly away from view. Winnie had a tight grip on George’s arm even as George carried shopping bags in both hands. He did a double take.
“You’re twins?”
THE END OF CHAPTER THREE
Any World (That I'm Welcome In) - Ch. 4
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©2025 SammyC
CHAPTER FOUR
“You’re twins?” George’s mouth was agape.
“Twin sisters, actually,” Regina proudly declared, pushing me forward and gesturing for me to remove the hood from my head. I did what she asked and shook out my hair out as Winnie stared at me.
George stepped forward, disentangling from Winnie’s grasp. “You told me your twin was adopted when you were—
“Two weeks old. Yeah, well, she’s visiting—”
“I thought you said you never knew who adopted her or where they lived—”
I slid in between them as Regina was floundering. “I found Regina and…and my biological mother…on my own.”
“So, you’re a runaway. The police can’t be too far behind. Your adopted parents know who your mother is,” Winnie said ominously.
“Just because your dad is deputy sheriff in this one-horse town—” I stopped myself and tried to pull up my hood again.
“Please don’t tell your dad, Winnie. Gigi isn’t a runaway. It’s kind of complicated. Too complicated to explain but her parents are ok with her visiting us.”
“If you’re lying, it won’t matter. My dad will be ordered to round her up like a stray dog anyway, “Winnie sniffed as she pulled on George’s arm to move along.
George kept a steady gaze on me as he nodded. “Nice to meet you, Gigi, is it? If you’re going to be in town for a while, you should come to the game next Friday night. We’re going to celebrate afterwards at The IHOP in Fair Lawn. You and Regina are welcome to join us—”
“George! What are you doing?” Winnie screeched as she took hold of George’s arm again.
“You know Regina and I have been friends forever. She hasn’t been to a game since last Fall—”
Regina bowed her head. “Well, you stopped being my friend, George—”
George lowered his eyes and half-whispered, “Because things kind of changed…”
“Yeah, like a sex change. Come on, George. Time’s a wasting. I saw some really cute boots in Steve Madden’s.”
As Winnie dragged him away, George twisted and turned to shout back at us. “Remember, next Friday. Kickoff at 7!”
Regina and I resumed our march toward Macy’s. Looking back, Regina nudged my ribs, and, with an annoyed sneer, she asked me, “Did you see the way he stared at you, Gigi?”
“Like an animal in the zoo?”
“No, George was eyeing you like a snack, girl. He never looked at me like that, much less invited me to a post-game bacchanal.”
“In my world, me and George were best buds and he played basketball not football. He never looked at me like that either.”
“Welcome to a whole new world, sis.”
Clothes shopping turned out to be a bit more complicated than Regina had foreseen. Considering I was a newbie to the gender, I let her guide me in fashion choices. I could tell Regina had immersed herself in the latest cool trends in teenage couture.
“What you’re picking out for me and what I’ve seen of your own wardrobe is completely different, Regina.”
“Mom wants me to dress conservatively and not attract too much attention to myself. She’s afraid of disturbing the natives.”
“Sounds like she’s not too enthusiastic about your transitioning.”
“Mom’s ok. Being an unwed teen mother kind of colors your image of what responsible parenthood is supposed to be. Far be it for her son to be a deviant because she had me at sixteen. Oh, this would look cute on you.” She held a hot pink Belize crop top in front of me.
“It’d look nice on you too.”
“Mom would shoot me if I wore something like this to school.”
“Wear it to the game Friday night. It’ll go well with the team colors.”
She looked at mom’s credit card in her right hand. “Don’t tell mom, ok?”
“We’re sisters. We don’t snitch on each other. Right?”
We shared a smile like twin co-conspirators.
It turned out the one thing we didn’t share was identical clothing sizes. Regina was crestfallen when she realized I required items consistently a size or two larger than she. Annoyingly helpful saleswomen would point out that I was broader across the chest (I found my bra fitting almost comical when I saw the envious expression on Regina’s face) and wider in my hips than my twin.
“I’m older by several minutes,” I would say to the bemusement of the sales staff.
After almost three hours of frenetic shopping, Regina and I lugged our four bulging bags of Macy’s finest items of women’s wear (including a cute pair of Chelsea boots from Steve Madden’s) along toward the food court. We planned to treat ourselves to a late lunch of vegetable spring rolls and fried rice from Master Wok. So, we have rather pedestrian taste. What do you expect from two Jersey girls?
In the next to last corridor before the food court, we came upon Miss Julie’s Bridal Shop. Regina stopped to look over the formal dresses in the far window of the store.
“That dress in Royal Blue or Hunter Green would be perfect to wear to the Homecoming Dance. If someone would ask me…” She fell silent, still ogling the mannequins.
“I know, Regina. I really liked George in my world too.”
“Let’s eat fast and take the bus home. You have a whole runway show to prepare for when we get back.”
After dinner, I played supermodel in a makeshift fashion show, displaying the clothes we had threatened mom’s credit limit to accumulate. The family arranged themselves in seats along a “runway” Regina had constructed by lining the living room carpet with a dozen portable puck lights, six on a side. She doused the lights and played “Babylon” by Lady Gaga on blast from her phone. Using the remote, she switched on the puck lights, and I walked out in my first outfit. It was a light grey button-down ribbed midi dress. I spoiled my entrance by stumbling in my new chunky heel black Chelsea boots. Catching myself before I fell flat on my face, I tried to remember all the catwalk tips Regina had read to me off the internet.
1. Choose a point in the distance to focus on as you stride.
2. Keep your gaze forward, with your head up and a slight downward tilt to your chin.
3. Create an elegant line by pulling your shoulders slightly back and down.
4. Place one foot in front of the other, almost as if you’re walking along a thin, invisible line.
5. When you reach the end of the catwalk, gently plant your feet, and sway your hips from side to side once, shifting your weight from one leg to the other, pivoting with ease.
6. Rinse and repeat.
From that point onward, the show came off smashingly well, I must say. Artie oohed and ahhed and clapped his hands enthusiastically. Nick sat entranced. Mom snapped shot after shot with her phone, uttering single words like “lovely,” “beautiful,” and “gorgeous.” We went through the entire contents of all the bags we had brought back home, excluding the underwear, of course. Finally, I took a bow and curtsied to my captive audience in my hot pink Belize crop top (with a white t-shirt underneath for modesty’s sake) and vintage ‘90s relaxed straight jeans.
“Oh my God, Nick, we have a supermodel daughter! Gigi, you cat-walked like a professional.” Mom embraced me as Nick and Artie tried to join in a group hug. Standing to one side, applauding, was Regina. Slowly, her broad smile turned into a dazed look of disappointment. I could sense she felt ignored, even displaced in the family circle. I reached out my hand, beckoning her to join the huddle but she turned away after switching off the puck lights, leaving us momentarily in darkness.
Because of Bergen County’s notorious Blue Laws, shopping for all items except food is forbidden on Sundays. So, Nick took Artie, Regina, and I to the Short Hills Mall in Morris County, an hour’s drive from Rossington, to pick up a phone, duplicate house keys, and a NJ Transit Tap and Ride Bus Pass for me. Mom had to work on Sunday. She took the other car to Livingston early in the morning.
Regina was in a better mood and cajoled Nick into taking us to the AMC Mountainside 10 Multiplex, 15 minutes from the mall, to see the new Trent Foster concert film, “A Man for All Reasons.” Trent is Regina’s favorite pop star. In my world, I could take him or leave him. I’ve heard better.
We were a half-hour early for the next showing, so I volunteered to collect the hot dogs and sodas at the concession stand while everyone else secured a table for us. Nick gave me four twenties that I put into the new purse I had just bought that morning and I joined the line for victuals. I jumped when a finger gently jabbed me on the shoulder from behind. I quickly turned around and almost smashed my nose against George Parker’s rock-hard chest.
“Gigi! Funny—”
“Meeting you here? Hi, George. I didn’t take you for a Trent Foster fan.”
“Oh, no. I wouldn’t pay good money to see that dude sing. I’m a teenager but not a teenage girl, like all his fans. I’m waiting for the 2PM showing of the Magnus, Robot Fighter movie.”
“The one where he faces off against Predator? Yeah, I’d like to see that myself. We’re seeing the Trent Foster movie because…y’know, Regina…”
“I saw you and the fam walk in. Regina used to like seeing superhero movies. But, well, I guess…”
“So, are you alone? Maybe I could pass on the Trent Foster experience and sit with you?” I smiled coquettishly.
“Uh, no.” He pointed to a table where Winnie was sitting, engrossed in checking texts on her phone. “Say, I hope you’re coming to the game on Friday. Seriously, you’d be my guest at the post-game meal. I can squeeze six into my Challenger.”
“Sure. I’m coming with Regina.”
“Oh, yeah, she can come too. Hey, you’re next.”
“Can I take your order, miss?” The girl at the counter repeated her question before I turned around. I was still smiling goofily at George.
It was unusually hot for a Tuesday afternoon in the second week of September in the Northeast as I stood outside Mildred Pierce Elementary School, waiting to pick up Artie as students were let out at 3PM. I was wearing a pink sweatshirt hoodie, my new denim mini-skirt, and a pair of beige and pink trainers. Oh, and I was wearing makeup. First time out in public! You see, for teaching me how to apply makeup properly, Regina’s payment in kind was for me to take over escorting Artie home from school. At least temporarily until I had something otherwise constructive to do with my days.
When Regina brought Artie home from school Monday afternoon, the three of us immediately turned around and walked the ten blocks to the strip mall.
“I promised mom I’d teach you how to put on makeup. Artie! Don’t let go of my hand! So, we’re going to get you what I started with. One of those all-in-one makeup kits that’s perfect for teens—”
“Why can’t I just borrow your makeup. After all, we’re sisters—”
“No! Never share makeup! Even with your twin sister from a parallel universe. Germs, viruses, all that bad stuff…”
“Can I have some ice cream, Regina?” Artie pulled on her arm to command her attention.
“Okay, okay. Soft serve or scoop?”
“I vote for soft serve.” Artie low-fived me with his free hand.
Once back home, we sat down at Regina’s vanity, and she went through makeup essentials step-by-step. It was rather daunting to look at all the instruments of torture in the all-in-one kit Regina had picked up at CVS for the low, low price of a mere $20 U.S. Lip gloss, lipstick, eye shadow, primer, brow gel, blush, mascara, and every kind and size of brush. I practiced for over two hours. Artie lay on the floor playing a game on my new phone. Finally, mom came home from work and discovered the whole sick crew in Regina’s bedroom.
“Look, mommy, Gigi’s got makeup on.” He let out a squeal of surprise. “She looks just like you do now, mommy.”
“You look beautiful, Gigi. Regina’s done a good job of teaching. I’m going to go change and then start dinner. I’d love to have both my girls help.”
“Regina, is that you? You look very nice today. New outfit?”
It was Mrs. Landon. I’d had her in second grade. Since our middle and high schools were catty-corner from our primary school, we would still occasionally cross paths. In this universe, she knew Reggie had transitioned to Regina. She stepped away from the front of the building and slowly approached.
“I’m not Regina. I’m…uh…Gigi, her twin sister.”
“My goodness. I didn’t know she had a twin.”
“I was adopted as a baby. I just found out about my biological mom and sister.”
“Are your adoptive parents here with you?” she asked, a note of concern in her voice.
“Gigi! What are you doing here?” Artie bounded out of the building, followed by several classmates and a young woman in her twenties who presumably was their teacher. “It’s my other sister, Gigi, Miss Rowan. See you tomorrow!”
“I’m here to walk you home, Artie. Regina and I switched jobs. Ha ha. Come on, let’s go.”
“I guess Regina’s not gonna take me to hockey practice on Saturday either. She doesn’t want to do anything with me anymore. Do you think she doesn’t like me now that she’s a girl?”
I thought about the Artie in my world. Just before mom decided to move to New York and take Artie with her, I’d accompany Artie to his weekly tee ball games. Bunch of 6- and 7-year-old boys and girls hitting softened baseballs off a tee on top of a tube adjusted for each player’s height. Most of the time batted balls never got out of the infield. It was boring to watch, but I got a kick out of seeing Artie running around the bases, laughing and pumping his tiny arms like a miniature Olympic sprinter.
“I’ll take you, squirt. I’ve got nothing better to do on weekends. Or any other day for that matter.”
Artie hugged my leg, making it difficult for me to walk.
“Are you going to stay with us forever, Gigi? You’re the best sister I’ve ever had.”
On Thursday night, Uncle Richie came over for dinner. Afterwards, he wanted to tell us what his research into my situation revealed. Mom put Artie to bed and rejoined us in the living room, prompting Richie to begin.
“My…uh…source in the courthouse got me the names of the couple that adopted Regina’s twin sister 17 years ago. She was reluctant to divulge it because it’s really illegal to reveal that information. The law is on the books to protect the child, you see, from biological parents who reverse field and seek to regain custody. Could be a huge mess for all concerned, especially the child who’s caught in the middle—”
“Richie,” mom interrupted with exasperation, “we know all that. What did you find out?”
“Marcel and Delphine LeClerc. French citizens who met and married while working for L’Oreal at their U.S. headquarters in Berkeley Heights, here in New Jersey. They named the baby girl Genevieve. But everyone called her Gigi—”
Mom’s breath caught in her throat, and she placed a hand over her mouth.
Nick declared, “That’s our Gigi! Perfect match, honey.”
Regina and I froze in surprise. Was Richie making this up?
“The family lived in nearby Summit and Marcel rose in the ranks to Deputy Controller for the company. They enjoyed traveling and, every summer, the Leclercs would take a month’s vacation, as is French custom, you know. This year, they decided to go on a road trip through Nevada and Arizona. In mid-June, they arrived in Arizona, specifically Grand Canyon National Park. They took the popular helicopter tour of the Grand Canyon. Unfortunately, their helicopter experienced some sort of mechanical failure and crashed into Jacob Lake—”
Again, mom’s breath caught in her throat. Regina and I reflexively reached for each other and squeezed our hands together, perched on the edge of the sofa.
“There were no survivors. But they never recovered Gigi’s body. Everyone else on that flight but her. Still, under New Jersey law, there can be no declaration of death until five years have elapsed in the case of a missing person.”
Nick took mom in his arms and looked straight at me. “Of course, she’s not dead. She’s alive and well, sitting right here, in this house, with us. Welcome home, Gigi.”
Mom placed her hand on my cheek. “I’m so sorry you lost your adoptive parents, honey. But you’re safe now and truly loved and treasured. I can’t make up for the 17 years we’ve missed out on, but we can be your new old family—”
“And then there’s the question of how she survived the crash and where she’s been the last three months. How in the world did she find her way to you guys? This looks to be some humdinger of a PTSD case, alright. Almost a complete wiping of her memories in and around this incredibly traumatic event.” Uncle Richie took out his Italian-made briar pipe. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to light it. I just like holding it like a prop.” He laughed.
There was silence while everyone contemplated that mystery. Mom crossed the room, sat down on the sofa, and put her arms around me. Nick got up and paced the room.
“Richie, can you hook us up with a lawyer who can establish Gig’s identity and get the court to return custody of her to Sara?” asked Nick.
“Establishing her identity is a relatively simple matter. A DNA test will prove that she’s Regina’s fraternal twin. They ought to share at least 50% of their genes. The real problem is that, by statute, the relatives of her adoptive parents are first in line to gain custody in the event of their demise. I’m no lawyer but a good argument could be made that it’s in the best interests of the child…our Gigi…to remain in the only country she’s ever known. The LeClercs’ relatives, on both sides, reside exclusively in Europe. And, finally, it might turn out to be a moot question anyway. Gigi turns 18 in March and becomes fully adult. By the time any legal challenges are resolved, the issue will no longer exist.”
“Let’s get her DNA tested first, Richie,” mom urged.
“I have a contact at the university hospital who could set that up for Gigi—”
“I know. I know. This might cost you an uncomfortable date with a less than desirable companion.”
“You know me too well, sis. It’s late. Gotta get home. I’ve got a bunch of tests to grade. I’ll let you know when Gigi can go in for that DNA test.”
Uncle Richie leaned down and held my hand. Turning to shield himself from mom’s view, he winked his eye. “Everything will work itself out, Gigi. Trust me.”
Nick saw him to the door.
“Honey,” mom said, probing my eyes, “do you remember anything about the crash and after? Anything at all?”
I shook my head. Not only was I at a loss for words, but I also suddenly felt a throbbing pain in my stomach. Not like any stomachache I’d ever had before. It seemed to be lower down in my abdomen. Afraid I might have an accident, I jumped up from the sofa and excused myself. I ran up the stairs to the second-floor bathroom, holding my stomach with my left hand.
As soon as I entered the bathroom, I quickly lowered my jeans and panties and plopped down on the toilet seat. I expected a rapid expulsion, but nothing happened. That’s when I noticed it. In the gusset of my panties, there were little pinpoint red spots that looked suspiciously like blood. I was bleeding!
What’s going on?
THE END OF CHAPTER FOUR