----------=BigCloset Retro Classic!=----------

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Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf on Monday 12-10-2010 at 12:56:57 pm (-0500), this retro classic was pulled out of the closet, and re-presented for our newer readers. ~Sephrena
 
Image Credit: Picture purchased and licensed for use from 123RF.com Stock Photography.The model(s) in this image is in / and are no way connected with this story nor supports nor conveys the issues and situations brought up within the story. The model(s) use is solely used for the representation of looks of the main character(s) of this particular story. ~Sephrena
 
 

Chapter 1

Tuesday, June 17

NOW AND THEN

I just can’t start this story with today. There’s too much background you have to know first.

We were sitting on the big sandstone outcropping at the scenic pullover on the old state road, looking down over the valley. It was a sunny crisp Saturday last October. We just sat and held hands. Then we spoke.

"I will always love you, Sarah Beth Holding."

"I will always love you, Mark Andrew Jansen."

Since then, we have said to that each other just about every day. And we believe it. Hopeless romantics, I know. I didn’t realize, though, what we would have to go through between then and now, and how that love would be tested in some tough ways, ways that would change us forever. There would be lots of laughs, but more tears. Through it all, our love for each other has grown stronger.

As I sat here, trying to think of how to start this journal, I knew it had to start with that October day. Without it, the rest of the story wouldn’t make much sense. I don’t have much to do in the evenings, so I thought it would be a good time to preserve these memories. Maybe someday, if things work out like I hope, our kids will laugh and cry to read them, and it will make them happy to know how much their parents love each other. Maybe if the worst comes about, I’ll find comfort and memory in them in my lonely old age. But the love for one another will still be alive. So here I begin the rest of the story. Now, my long, bright blue, acrylic airbrushed fingernails click on the keys. I reach up with one of those nails to tug some strands of curly blond hair away from my eye, and pat it back into place. My hands still in my hair, I pull out the long ribbon that winds through the curls and lay it on the table for the night. That done, I look down past my Minnie Mouse tee, toward my laptop computer sitting appropriately on my laptop, partially covering my pink shorts. I stretch out my legs and see my darker blue toenails and toe ring. I look over at my love, stretched out in bed, sleeping soundly at 8 PM, exhausted after a long day of therapy and chemo. I smile, just glad to be here.

If someone else ever reads this, it may surprise you to know that I am Mark Jansen. Sarah Holding is the one asleep. Why do I look the way I do? You’ll find out later. I have to go to sleep myself, now.

THEN

Sarah and I have always been friends. We used to live in the same neighborhood and have always gone to the same school. We even go to the same church together. Like Corey and Topanga on Boy Meets World, we’ve just always felt that we were always going to be together. We both just finished our junior year of high school. We’re just ordinary kids, the kind that blend into the crowd at high school. I’m 17 and she’s 16, we’re not officially engaged or anything, but we’ve both assumed for years that down the road, after college probably, we’ll be married, and we will stay married until we die, and we’ll raise lots of cute and funny kids. Funny thing about assumptions, though. Things happen that you never anticipate. Like her getting cancer. Like me being here with her, pretending to the world that I’m her sister.

Her sister, by the way, is Julie Annette Holding. Julie’s 18, and just graduated from high school. ,At 5’9" she is just about my height, and about four inches taller than her younger sister. She’s a jock, or jockette, and was one of our school’s better basketball players and track athletes. To keep herself in shape between sports seasons, she races bicycles. Actually, so do I. We’re on the same racing team, the Ocelots. Lots of people who see us bicycle racing, or at school, think we’re brother and sister.

The area where we practiced and raced our bicycles was near the Holding house, so it was convenient for me to go there after school, and for Julie and me to go biking. My parents both work in an electronics factory here, and don’t get home until nearly 6 each evening. Mr. Holding drives a truck and Mrs. Holding works at the same factory as my folks, but has an earlier shift, so she is home by the time we get home from school. So both sets of parents were happier with Sarah and I being together with people around at her house than alone at my house, even though we’re pretty trustworthy kids, by and large. Anyway, Julie and I always tease each other and give each other a hard time. I kidded both the girls about having a nail fetish. Julie would wear hers short, but always painted, during basketball season, but get long claws put on the rest of the year. Sarah didn’t wear hers long, but they were always nicely groomed, and the two girls were always doing each others nails. Julie even works part time as a receptionist in a nail salon.

One day last fall, when I arrived at their house, both girls had their nails painted bright blue. I teased them about having circulation problems–perhaps I carried on too much about it, but that was the mood I was in. Later, as was my habit, I fell asleep in their easy chair. I didn’t discover until I got home later that night, after bike racing, supper, and homework, that they had slipped my socks off and painted my toenails blue, then put my socks back on after they had dried! I had thought I felt Sarah massaging my feet while I was dozing, which felt kind of good, and I didn’t think anything about it until that night. My mom doesn’t do her nails, so I had to wait until the next afternoon at the Holding’s house to get at some nail polish remover. Good thing I didn’t have PE that day! Of course, since it got a big rise out of me, they had to do it again. And again. It wouldn’t happen for several weeks, and when I’d just about think they outgrew it, bang. Blue nails. Sometimes toenails, sometimes fingernails. Always blue, no matter what color polish they were wearing.

A couple of months ago, I said that I would be glad when that bottle ran empty. Julie gave me an evil grin and said they had already brought a new bottle, just for me. See, doesn’t that prove they have a nail fetish? Of course, I played a few good tricks on Julie, too, but we won’t get into those here.

One day, I was dressed in my racing togs and had a bandana on top of my head to cushion my helmet and catch sweat. She had painted my fingernails while I napped, and now she looked me over, up and down, from my shaved biker’s legs to my blue nails to my bandana, and said, "You really ought to let us dress you up as a girl sometime. You could almost pass as one right now." Sarah had the nerve to agree. "You’d be totally cute," she said.

My jaw dropped. "Now listen," I said, "Don’t go there. I’m a guy, and that’s fine with me. I don’t want to end up on the Jerry Springer episode of ‘Guys who get dressed up as girls by their girlfriend’s sisters.’"

"I’d help dress you up, too, if you’d let us. It would be fun." Sarah grinned mischievously. I love the way the freckles on her cheeks seem to move when she smiles. "Since you’re an only child, I guess you never played dress-up as a kid, huh? Seriously, you would look kind of cute. How about Halloween?"

"No, I never dressed as a girl at home, or on Halloween," I replied uncomfortably. I hadn’t even thought about it before, but deep down, the idea kind of intrigued me. I’d never admit it, though. I have sort of an ordinary face, not too soft but not ruggedly masculine, either, so I suppose I would look alright.

"No," Julie said, "I wasn’t asking about your past. I meant, how about we dress you up next Halloween?"

I sort of agreed, "Well, maybe. I’ll think about it." I wanted to get them off this subject. I was blushing.

"We’ll come up with a costume," Julie grinned. "Something that will go with blue nail polish. You’ll be really foxy!" What chance does a guy have, blindsided between two women, one of whom he loves madly? Maybe they’d forget about it. Not likely, though.

NOW AGAIN

So here I am in costume, and it’s months from Halloween. Hope Haven is a residence center for sick kids who get treatment at the children’s hospital in our state, and for their family members. It’s our new home away from home. It’s a cool place in some ways, kind of scary in others. Why am I here? I’m a family member–sort of. I’ll get to that. Right now, I’m tired and want to get into my nightgown. Geesh. I never thought I’d be the type to wear a pink nightie.

Wednesday, June 18

Our fourth evening here, Sara’s second straight day of chemo. Thank heavens that from now on she only has chemotherapy on MWF. No hurling yet, but you can tell it takes about everything out of her. Today, I’m wearing a matching yellow short and top set. But let’s catch up on the past some more. Sarah didn’t even stay up for supper, so I have the whole evening to write. Maybe I can get things caught up to date.

THE BREAK

About two weeks after the girls had offered to give me a Halloween makeover, on a bright spring Day, our world began to fall apart. Sarah and I had biked out to the same overlook where we first said "I will love you forever." Again we sat there, ate a snack and sipped pop, and generally daydreamed and talked and kissed. When it was nearly time to start home, I slid off the rock ledge down onto the parking lot, about an eighteen inch drop. I held my hand out for Sara. She took my hand and jumped down, but as she landed, her right leg collapsed out from under her, and she went down, me hanging on to her, trying to help her keep her balance. I thought I heard a snapping noise. Sara’s face contorted and she shrieked. "Mark! My leg! I think it’s broken, clear up on my thigh." She’d been complaining about pains in her thigh, but the doctor had assumed it was just tight muscles. Now her leg was bent at a weird angle. What could we do? It was ten miles back to town. Fortunately, some tourists from Nebraska pulled in with their minivan. I flagged them down, and they used their cell phone to call the ambulance.

"It’ll be okay, don’t worry, they’ll fix it up," I chattered nervously, holding her hand. Tears ran down her face. She cried, "I never had anything hurt like this." It seemed like hours before the ambulance came. The nice people in the minivan followed, bringing our bikes. As we entered the emergency room, they took her back for x-rays. I told the staff what had happened, and then I called her family. Soon her mom and sister were there with me.

Finally Doctor Phillips came out, a worried look on his face. "She has a nasty break of her right femur, not at all consistent with such a short fall. Are you sure nothing else happened?" I insisted that nothing had, other than the bike ride. I told about her earlier complaints of a sore thigh. "We were able to set the bone temporarily so it won’t do any more damage, but there are some things on the x-rays that we don’t like. She really needs to be seen by some pediatric orthopedics specialists at the university hospitals. I’d recommend the helicopter ambulance. There’s too much potential for damage if we try to deal with it here, and I have concerns that something more serious may be involved."

Within an hour, my sedated girl friend was flying the ninety miles to our state university city, with her mom and sister with her. I drove the ninety miles in my old jeep.

I finally tracked down her family in the operating waiting room at the children’s hospital next to the big university hospital. None of us could figure out how her leg would break so easily. After what seemed like hours and hours, a doctor came out in scrubs, and she ushered us into a tiny visiting room. "I’m Dr. Wilcox, chief of pediatric orthopedics. Sara’s still on the operating table, but I need to talk with you before we go on. I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but the leg broke because of a large bone tumor. It will be examined more closely in the labs, but I would be surprised if it wasn’t malignant." At that, we all lost it.

"Please," she said. "Things aren’t as bad as they might seem. A few years ago, this would have meant an automatic amputation, partly to keep the cancer from spreading, and partly because the bone would be so damaged. So far, we’ve removed the obviously tumorous portion of the bone, and what we can see of the other parts of the tumor. What we propose to do is to replace the infarcted part of the bone with a titanium prosthetic femur, that will go from mid-thigh to her knee. We anticipate that there will be some nerve damage, so the leg will never function quite as well as it used to, but she’s young and strong, and will learn to compensate, if you give her a lot of love and support. Of course, if the tests come back positive for malignancy, she will need chemotherapy to make sure we destroy the cancerous cells."

As we asked questions, she tried to be reassuring. Yes, she would walk again, but with some slight difficulty. Yes, chances are great that if it was cancer, it was treatable, and she would likely live a long, productive life. She asked permission to continue with the bone replacement. Her folks signed the paper, and Dr. Wilcox left. We were stunned. We had no idea it was that serious. But at least she wouldn’t lose her leg. As we waited for the completion of the surgery, we talked. I remember saying that no matter what happened, I’d be there for Sara, and for them.

"I know, Mark," Mrs. Holding said. "What you and Sarah have is very special, more than just a boyfriend-girlfriend thing. You’re really a part of our family." Then she cried. They cried. I cried. We hugged a soggy hug. Finally, Dr. Wilcox came out with good news and bad news. The prosthetic bone had been successfully attached to her own, and the tumorous portion was cleaned out. But preliminary tests confirmed that the tumor was cancerous. She introduced Dr. Hawkins, an oncologist, who explained the whole bit about chemotherapy. They would give Sarah a couple of weeks to heal, and then have a six-week treatment regimen. They would do physical therapy at the same time. It would be demanding to do both together, because each one was exhausting, but not to begin the therapy would cause the leg to atrophy. Not to begin chemo could be deadly.

Sarah didn’t really come out of the anesthetic until the next day, and she was still sort of woozy. The doctors discussed the treatments ahead. "Chemo–will I lose my hair?" She asked. Sara’s not considered a real fox by most of my classmates (they have poor vision, I’d guess), but everyone agrees she has great hair–long, curly, thick, the color of ginger snaps.

Dr. Hawkins explained gently that most patients with the treatment they were recommending lost all their hair. Since Sara’s hair was thick, she might retain some. But it would grow back, probably about a month after the treatment stopped. Tears rolled down Sara’s cheeks. Mine too. I clutched her hand. "Hey. It’s okay. Bald and alive is better than the alternative. I’ll still love you, no matter what. You know that. You’ll always be beautiful to me."

I had to drive back the next day, because the end of school was coming up. Julie and her mother stayed on. As a senior, Julie had finished her classes early. It was hard to think about my course work. I’m a good student, and my grades would hold up okay, but that wasn’t important to me right now. Our principal convinced me that Sara’s being sick wouldn’t cause her to flunk out, either. She was excused from finals.

The day finals was to begin, I got a call. Sarah was sick, and had a high fever. I jumped in the jeep and went, leaving mom to call the principal to explain. When I got there, Sarah wasn’t in her room. Neither was Julie or their mom. The nurse looked really concerned, and directed me back to the OR waiting room. Julie and her mom looked like zombies, kind of gray-like and in shock. Julie mumbled. "She’s lost her leg."

"How? What happened? The docs had fixed the bone with the cancer! Please! No jokes! It can’t be!"

Mrs. Holding took my hands and looked straight in my eye, tears streaming down her cheek. "Mark, it wasn’t just the cancer. She wasn’t feeling good yesterday, and we just thought it was flu or something, since she’s so weak. But her fever kept rising. Her leg was really hot. They pumped her full of antibiotics, and kept running tests. It was a severe infection around the bone. Staph, of some sort. They worked all night with it, but this morning they told us they would have to remove her leg or the infection would kill her. Her whole leg was toxic, full of poisons. Not just the new bone."

"Remove? Amputate? Dear God, no. How high up?"

"At first, they thought about half way down her thigh. But it was worse than they thought. They ended up taking the whole bone, clear up to the hip. It would have been better had they just cut it off earlier where the cancer was. At least she would have had something there."

I could hardly conceive what that would be like. "Will she walk again, ever? I mean it doesn’t sound like there’s anything to attach an artificial leg to." How could such a wonderful girl have to spend her whole life in a wheelchair, or on crutches, with just a single leg? Memories of Sarah biking, dancing, running, leaping, filled my mind. Would they only be memories now?

Mrs. Holding said that the doctor had told her that yes, they could give her a prosthetic leg. Even people who have had cancer in their hip, and who have lost their leg, and part of their pelvis and hip have walked later. Of course, it would be more difficult. But she should be able to walk.

She had been taken to the recovery room, and we got to go in and see her for a few minutes, wearing breathing masks. I thought I was going to throw up in it, when I saw how deathly pale she looked, and the way the sheet caved down alongside her left leg, now her lonely leg. I managed to keep my stomach under control. She drifted in and out again, then she looked at me and smiled. "Hi. I’m glad you’re here, Mark."

"Any excuse to get out of finals," I said. "Sara, no matter what happens, you’re not going to get rid of me. I’ll be there with you and for you. No matter what, okay?" She just smiled, and winced, and drifted off.
 
 

 
To Be Continued...

Mark accepts an outlandish idea, and is transformed

Chapter 2

Interlude

A week later, she came home for three weeks, to rest and get her strength back. Later, they would do the same therapy/chemo combination they had discussed earlier. Only this time, it wouldn’t be to strengthen her damaged leg. It would be preparing for using a whole new leg, made of plastic and metal and who knows what. The rehab people had taught Sarah to use crutches, and she could swing around pretty good when she had the energy. Most of the time, she used the wheelchair. Mr. Holding had built a ramp. I turned down the summer job that I had been offered in the bike shop to spend more time with Sara. Most of the time, she was strong. She’d joke, complain about little things, laugh at awkward moments. Quite a bit of the time she was silent, a bit depressed, and would just sit in the recliner and look off into space. The Holdings told me that the doctors had explained that losing a body part is like losing a friend, and you naturally work through the stages of grief. It’s also a terrible blow to your self-image. So I’d just sit there near her, and touch her hand, and talk when she was ready to.

I was concerned that she never wanted to go out in public. She never liked being the center of attention, and the thought of people staring at her bothered her deeply. She didn’t have many friends over, either. Her best friend, Cassie, was totally freaked out by Sara’s illness. The only time she came by the house, she freaked out crying. She would call Sarah on the phone practically every day, and would talk about anything except Sara’s leg and Sara’s cancer. One of Sara’s favorite teachers was good about coming by and visiting, and Sarah got bunches of get well cards. (Funny they don’t make cards that say "Sorry about losing your leg and good luck with the cancer. Too limited a market, I guess.) Sarah promised me that once she got her new leg, she’d get out more. I hoped so.

One day, Julie walked in looking totally depressed. Sarah was in her room sleeping. "What’s wrong," I asked Julie. She said "Nothing."

"Yeah, sure, right. Come on, Julie. What gives?"

"I guess I’m not going to college." Although the Holdings couldn’t afford regular college tuition, she had won an athletic scholarship to a liberal arts college, about thirty miles east of the state university. "My scholarship is a work/study kind of thing. I have to spend the next two months helping the staff run basketball camps for girls. If I don’t go, I don’t get the scholarship." She was talking quietly, so Sarah wouldn’t overhear.

"But I don’t understand. Why can’t you go?" I asked.

"You remember the doctors and social workers and those dudes recommending that Sarah stay in Hope Haven?" That was a place where sick kids could stay with family members while undergoing treatments and therapy. Cheaper than the hospital, and much less institutional. "You can only go there if a family member stays with you. With all the hospital bills and the time they’ve taken off already, mom and dad can’t afford to stay with her full time. There’s nobody else in our family, even from out of town, who can come, either. So it’s up to me. I’ll have to stay with Sara."

"Julie, you can’t just throw away a college education like that. There must be another way to do this. Could I stay? Could I pretend I’m her brother?"

"The social workers have interviewed us and know who is in her family and who isn’t. We toured Hope Haven as a family. You couldn’t pass as mom or dad, by a long shot. I appreciate you offering, though. It’s okay. I can go to nail tech school next fall and work for the Kims." (That was the Korean family who ran the nail shop where Julie works.)

"You have more future than gluing fake nails on ladies," I said. By then Julie’s mom and dad had come into the room. "We have to find another way. And you know I’ll do anything to help."

THE IDEA

I left there so they could have supper. I spent the night laying awake, trying to figure out something. What could I do? I felt so helpless.

The next morning, before I could leave for the Holdings, the phone rang. It was Julie. "I have an idea I want to talk about with you. We need to be alone for me to tell you. Let me pick you up at 9. We’ll go for a drive and have a picnic, so dress grubby, if you aren’t already. I told Sarah that I needed to do some things with you, so she knows you won’t be by until early afternoon. She’s okay with that."

Julie pulled up wearing some old Banana Republic stuff, with pockets all over the place. Her nails were a different color than yesterday, a light orange that went well with the khaki. She had packed a picnic lunch for us, and suggested we go to the Fort. That’s our local nickname for a state park up in the foothills, about 15 miles from town, another favorite bicycling destination, with some steep grades that gave a real workout. We were driving today, though, in Julie’s beat-up Honda. She was quiet and thoughtful as she drove, not like her usual lively self. She glanced over at me and said, "We usually kid each other, but I want to be real straight with you. I don’t think Sarah could have made it this far without you being there for her." Her voice caught. "I really, really admire the way you hang in there with her." Frank admiration–that worried me a bit. "She’s strong, but this is all so terrible. You’re just so good for her, Mark. We were talking about finding another place for her to stay, other than Hope Haven, so I could go on to college. But what scares me about that is that she’s shy enough around strangers that she really needs someone there who knows and loves her. So I insisted that it has to be Hope Haven, even if I have to work a few years and go to college later. That’d be okay." I told her how I’d spent the night trying to think of another way, but nothing realistic had popped up. We were silent again. She smiled, and said, "Mark, one thing I’ve always liked about you is that you are comfortable with who you are. You don’t try to act all macho, and don’t worry too much about what other people think. You and Sarah are both alike in that you’re both strong, but in a real quiet, subtle sort of way." Somehow I could sense that a train was approaching somewhere, even though the tracks were miles away. But she didn’t talk about it much more.

We arrived at the Fort, and went past the ruins to a picnic overlook, with a path leading downward into the valley. We decided to walk the steep path. It was good to be out, to exercise my muscles, and to relax a bit. "Some guys would freak out with the blue nail trick we’ve played on you. It would threaten their masculinity too much. But you’re comfortable in yours. You holler a little, but don’t let it bother you."

"Uh, thanks," I said. "I guess you’re right. It’s not that big a deal." Again, not much was said. We found a bench at a switchback in the trail, one that had a nice view, looking toward our town.

"Actually, Mark," she began. Oh oh. I could hear that train. "I did have an idea of how you could be there for Sarah when she goes for her chemo and rehab, and a way I could go to college. It’s pretty wild, and you have every right to get mad, or to laugh in my face. But please give it a listen, okay?" I nodded. She breathed deeply. You couldn’t pass as dad or mom at Hope House, but you could pass for me."

"I could? Me? You? What are you trying to say?"

"Stand up, Mark." I did. "Look at me. I’m no Baywatch babe. We’re the same height, and almost the same body size. Do you know what people see when they see me? An ordinary looking girl with great muscle tone, with big flashy nails, blond curly hair, with ribbons and stuff. Some of my friends say I overcompensate to look feminine, maybe I do, but I enjoy that part of my life, too. Remember when we were kidding around about dressing you up a couple of months ago? If we did it and did it right, you’d not only look like a girl, you’d look a lot like me. People who know us well could tell the difference, but you wouldn’t be around anybody who knows us well. They’d see the hair, the nails, the muscles, and would recognize you as me."

"That’s crazy. It couldn’t possibly work. They’d figure it out, and we’d all be in trouble, even if I could pass for you, which I don’t think for a moment I could."

"But if you could pass, and it could work, would you do it for Sara, and for me? Wait–don’t answer yes or no now. But would you think about it?"

I paused. "You’re sure this isn’t a put-on. You’re not just setting me up for a laugh. Because if you are, there’ll be a big payback. They might never find your body, for starters." She assured me that she meant it, and I could see it in her eyes. "Okay, I believe you. But who would believe me, even if I could look like you. How could I act like a girl, 24 hours a day, for 6 weeks? I’m not ready for Hollywood or Broadway, or anything."

"You don’t have to act like a girl. You just have to act like me. Like a lot of the girls point out, there’s a difference. I don’t swish or sway, do I?" Julie asked. "I’m a down to earth, direct, jock. And Sarah could give you tips and pointers, too. I know you can sound like me–you’ve mimicked my voice a million times."

She was right. Julie had a low alto voice that wasn’t so much different from my tenor, and I could match the tone dead on. She and her family were native to this area, so she talked more slowly and had a bit more of a drawl than does my family, who transplanted here when I was four. "Yeah," I drawled. "Reckon yore right."

Julie stuck her tongue out, and then went on. "It’s overacting that you’d have to worry about. Just be natural. Nobody’s going to expect you to act like a cheerleader. People keep saying how much alike we are, so you wouldn’t have to act a whole lot different than you act now. Well, maybe you shouldn’t scratch your crotch or make body noises with your hand in your armpit."

"I’ve kind of outgrown that, anyway."

"See, you’re almost there. Race you back up!" She took out.

"Okay! But if I lose, that doesn’t mean I have to do this crazy thing!"

"Deal!"

The uphill run was demanding but good. It allowed my brain to go back into neutral after several minutes of redlining. After we got to the top, we rested, then got out lunch.

Julie began the discussion again. "I think you can do this, Mark, and do it well. I do have to admit that it won’t be easy, that you’ll find out what girls suffer to be beautiful. Nails like this will drive you crazy. You’ll need a perm and bleach job. You’ll need some ear piercings." I looked again at Julie’s hair, nails, and earrings. "We’ll get you there, and see that you have the wardrobe, too. It won’t be easy, but actually, it might be kind of fun. You’d learn life from a different angle, and my hunch is, that as great as you are now, you’d come out better for it."

Chewing on the drumstick, I wondered aloud. "I did say I’d do anything I could to help, and I meant it. I’d even do what you’re saying, I guess, if I thought I could pull it off. But what if this changes the way Sarah sees me? If I do it, I mean. What if she thinks I’m effeminate or something?"

Julie smiled. "Nope, I think she’d love you all the more, if that’s even possible. If a guy were willing to go that far for me, that’s how I’d feel."

"I really don’t know about this. But what about the sex thing? There’s a reason they don’t allow boyfriends and girlfriends to live together at Hope Haven."

"I really think that you love her too much to let it happen. If you two make a commitment, I know I’d trust you. Besides, remember that she’s sick, and the chemo will make her really sick. You’re going to be burning a lot of energy just keeping in your role."

"We can’t do this behind our parents’ support, and I’m still not convinced I can even pass as a girl, let alone get people to think I’m you. But if Sarah goes along with it, if your parents and my parents both agree to it, and you can convince me that I’d pass as a girl, I’ll try. I’ll do that for Sara. And for you, I guess. But you’ll owe me big time. And you’ll have to promise never to tell anybody who doesn’t have to know, because this could kill my reputation. And promise not to give me a hard time about it. And promise not to paint my nails when I’m asleep, either."

She came over and hugged me. "It’ll work, just wait and see. And I promise on all counts, Girl Scout Promise, cross my heart, and all that good stuff. And we’ll be able to do each other’s nails and have fun together with it." One thing reassured me. I doubted that either Sarah or our parents would go along with it.

WELL, I GUESS SO

On the way home, I glanced nervously at Julie and wondered what was ahead for me. When Julie and I entered, Sarah was there, sitting in the easy chair, her crutches beside her. A grin spread under her freckled nose. "Welcome back, stranger," she said, as I leaned down to kiss her.

"Sara," I began. "I don’t know quite how to start telling you this, but your crazy sister had an idea about how I could stay with you when you go back to the children’s hospital next week. She thinks that I can fool people into thinking that I’m her, and that we can be at Hope Haven together. Now I know it’s weird, but maybe we should think about it."

Sarah was laughing hysterically. I hadn’t seen her laugh that hard since she broke her leg. I must have been right. She must be thinking what a sissy I would be. "Please, Sara," I started. "It was her idea. I’m just desperate to find a way that I can be with you, and Julie can go to college."

"And you said yes," she asked. I nodded. "You sweet, wonderful guy. You love me that much!"

Slowly I began to realize something. "You already knew about Julie’s idea, then?"

"No, silly," she said softly. "I knew about my idea. It came out of my warped little brain, not Julie’s. I didn’t want Julie to have to stay with me when she should be at her college job, and I didn’t want to be 90 miles from the man I love for six weeks."

"Your idea? Why didn’t you ask me, then?"

"Because if I asked, and you were uncomfortable with it, you might say yes anyway, and be miserable. I wanted you to have the freedom to say no. And I would have understood." By this time we were all crying and laughing and hugging.

Once again, I was blindsided by two women, one of whom I loved very much. "Wait a minute. If we do this, won’t I need ID? What if a cop pulls me over or something?" I asked. Julie thought a minute. "I know. You can drive my car, and take my driver’s license. I have a photo ID already from the college that I can use there. You can drop me off at the college on the same trip that you take Sarah to Children’s Hospital. I won’t need a car there. It’s a small campus." Was this brilliant improvisation, or part of a well-thought-out plot? I guess it didn’t matter. "Now," Julie said. "You wanted to see if you could pass as a woman, as I recall. That will only take about 15 minutes, and we'll have you back to manhood by the time mom comes home at 3. Now go to the bathroom and strip down to your Superman Underoos, please. Have a seat on the toilet tank." I did so. Sarah pushed herself up from the easy chair and hopped two steps to her wheelchair, moving to the bathroom door to watch the show. "It’s a good thing you shave your legs for bicycle racing," she said. "That would slow up the process." First she pulled out a bottle of makeup. "This is foundation. Your beard is a little dark, so I’d guess you will have to shave twice a day to stay presentable." She began slathering it around my face. "We’ll just daub a little heavy this time. Normally, you will use some moisturizer and skin cleanser before you apply the foundation, but we don’t have the time now. I noticed Sarah roll away out of view. After Julie finished the foundation, she was adding some eyeshadow. "Nice long lashes," she muttered. When she was tracing lipstick on my lips, Sarah came back with a pile in her lap.

"My turn now," Sarah said. "Here’s something for the two of you. It’ll cancel out the blond-brunette thing. It was two scarves. "Just put them over your head like you do bandanas for racing." I put mine over my longish straight brown hair, covering up my short pony tail. Julie covered her curly hair. Then she handed us each a sundress. Mine had a high neck and a low back. Julie just slipped hers on over her Banana Republic gear. "Careful not to rub it against your makeup as it goes on," Sarah advised me. "Now, come out and look in the hallway mirror. I think you two look great." I was speechless. I definitely looked more feminine than did Julie, because of my makeup and the lumpy clothes under her dress. "You are both beautiful," Sarah smiled. In more ways than one. And it only took fifteen minutes. They showed me how to remove the makeup with cold cream, and I dressed back in my grubbies. We even had time to make plans to tell our parents. The girls would ask their parents to have mine come over for coffee the next evening. Strangely enough, I was starting to get intrigued about this.

The next night, the girls took the lead explaining the idea. I was nervous. What would they think? They listened politely. They expressed concerns, just as I had to Julie earlier. Mr. Holding pursed his lips. "It’s kind of a dangerous situation here. I admire your bravery and dedication for even thinking about it, Mark. But I don’t see how I can be a good parent and let two underage teens who are boyfriend and girlfriend stay by themselves. It’s not that I don’t trust you, I trust you more than I would any other teenager. You’re a great kid. But it still scares me." It scared me, too, and I admitted it. But as we discussed the situation, they began to see that we could actually be trusted if we gave our words that there would be no sex. They began to see a way out of their dilemma. I asked my parents what they thought. "Mark," said Dad. "I never thought I would give my blessing to my son being feminized for a day, let alone six weeks, but I can understand why you’re doing it and if you really want to, go ahead."

I asked mom how she felt. "You’re asking me if I will let two girls transform my son into a woman, well, a reasonable facsimile thereof. I’m afraid I can’t give my permission." She paused, then grinned. "Unless I can help, too." Does it seem to you that I allow myself to get blindsided by women a lot?

"OUR NEXT MAKEOVER…"

The decision was made at the end of our second week home. The next day, mom took me out to get my hair bleached. She said that to get my hair bleached and permed the same day might damage it too much. I had never spent much time worrying about damaging my hair before, but I guess it made sense. Lots of guys experiment with bleaching their hair, so it was no biggie. I spent most of the week with Sara, of course, but I also spent some time doing guy things, hanging around with some of my buds. I told the guys that a cousin who worked at the university had invited me to come work there, which would put me closer to Sara. I would be back in early August. I also enjoyed a few days of bicycle training and trial races. Last year, I had gone from category 4 (the lowest after beginners) to cat 3. I had hoped that a full summer and fall of racing would get me near category 2 status, which only a couple of people in our town had achieved. I guess that would be postponed until next summer. I was going to be able to take my bike with me to Hope Haven, though,but I couldn’t be sure if I would have enough time to stay in shape.

Since we were to leave on Sunday, the women who now seemed to be in charge of my life made plans for the end of my boyhood as I then knew it. The nail shop where Julie worked and the beauty shop where a good friend of hers worked would close about 7:30 on Friday evening. I was to come wearing sweats. I was to leave looking like Julie. Then on Saturday, the moms and sisters would pack, and give me girl lessons. My mom would buy me underwear, makeup, and shoes (my feet were a man’s ten, Julie’s a woman’s ten, two sizes smaller, they told me), and Julie would do my packing, dividing her wardrobe between us. That was encouraging–Julie’s nails and hair were much more feminine than the rest of her wardrobe, and wearing her jeans, slacks, and tee shirts shouldn’t be too majorly embarrassing.

So now it was Friday evening. Since Sarah had been a hermit, only leaving the house to go to a weekly blood test and checkup on how her stump was healing, I was a bit surprised that she wanted to go with us. After the last customer left, my mom, Julie, and Sarah paraded into Nail Fancy with me. So there I was, my fingertips soaking in a shallow bowl of some slippery liquid. Joan Kim, Julie’s close friend, was lining up all kinds of things that made me nervous.

"Are you sure this is all necessary?" I asked. "Wouldn’t it be easier and cheaper just to get some press-on nails at the drug store?"

"Wouldn’t it be easier and cheaper to race a Huffy instead of your Diamondback?" Julie asked. "There’s about as much difference. Any woman who remembered me from last month would remember really nice nails, not cheap imitations. Besides, the cheapies fall off all the time. These will last at least a month, and probably the full six weeks. Joannie is giving you these free, by the way. We have kidded around that one way to expand business would be if men started wearing long, painted nails–it would nearly double our customer base. Joan loved the idea, and said that she would like to give a man a full set, that she might do it for free, just for the fun of it. When I told her why you were getting acrylic nails, she was delighted to volunteer."

Joan giggled softly. "This is fun," she said, "And it is a wonderful thing that you’re doing. Maybe you’ll like them and want to keep them." By this time she had rinsed my fingers and was poking around my cuticles. "They are a little broad and flat, but we can make them look nice." We talked as she continued working. Joan doesn’t fit the physical stereotype of oriental women. She is graceful and pretty, but is nearly six feet tall, at least in heels. At the moment, she is six months pregnant.

"So, uh," I began. "Am I your first male customer then?" I asked.

"Let me put it this way. You are the first to get a set of long-lasting nails. I have some gentlemen come in for manicures. Then I get a few guys who want to dress up for a Halloween party, and get glue-ons that come off the next day. That’s the difference. These are not only more lovely, they become a part of you. They will be so bonded to your nail, that you won’t be able to take them off, unless you want to take your nail with it."

I shuddered. "But you’ll be able to help get them off when we’re done, won’t you?" She nodded and smiled, then started roughing up the surface of the nails.. "You will want the same size as Julie’s, I imagine, if you are trying to look like her?" I looked. Julie’s nails never looked longer.

"I guess," I said. "They just look so long to me. How long are they, an inch? Two?"

"They are over an inch and a half when we first put them on, then we trim them down to different lengths. None of yours will be much longer than an inch from base to tip, but you can call it two inches if you like." She started attaching the long, clear pieces of plastic, drastically extending the length of my nails. Later, as she precisely trimmed the nails a bit shorter, she asked what color I wanted. Julie had assured me that she never told Joan about their nail polish pranks.

I smiled. "Something in blue, I think." Although there weren’t nearly as many blues as there were other shades, there were still plenty to choose from. I picked a lighter blue than the girls usually used on me.

As she carefully applied the color in graceful strokes to my left hand, I admired her bright red nails, even longer than mine. I told her that I was amazed at her dexterity with them.

"You will find that it takes some getting used to!" She laid the brush down in a tray in front of me. "Please pick it up–with your right hand, if you will." I tried, but the nails kept getting in the way, and I fumbled it almost out of the tray. "Now instead of trying to pick it up with your nails, or with the tips of your fingers, use the pads just below the tips. Bend the fingers out just a bit, so the nails are more parallel, don’t reach straight in, but at an angle. Good! That’s it. Now you try painting." I held the brush in my hand, at a slightly awkward angle. She held the bottle so I could slide the brush into it. "Good," she smiled. "Start at the base, out toward the tip." To my relief, she finished the job after I got one nail painted. When Joan finished, she airbrushed some delicate patterns on three of the nails. As the nails dried, Joan gave me some instructions on nail care, and a bottle for touch-up. Julie took a picture of them.

Sarah asked, "Could I borrow that polish? I think I’d like the same color as my new big sister on my nails." I smiled and handed her the bottle.

As she painted hers, I looked down at mine. It was hard to believe that those long, delicately painted things extending from my fingertips were now a part of me, and would remain so for the next month and a half. It was kind of fun clicking them on the counter, though. I thanked Joan for her work, but then I got nervous. The streets were busy. Would someone see me and recognize me? I kept my hands balled up and head down as we got into the car and drove to Polly’s Pretty Place, the salon where Julie’s friend Tina Bidesky worked. I was happy to see that it was a straight shot from the parking lot into the front door, where the next part of my makeover awaited.

"Ah, here’s the victim," Tina smiled. She was tall, and had long, wavy, dark hair.

"We left something for you here earlier, Mark. It’s on a hanger behind the rest room door," Julie said. "Since you’re going to end up all the way into your role tonight, we thought you should dress the part, and ditch the sweats. Besides, if you’re going to be twin, we might as well dress like twins." Oh, boy. What was I getting myself into? I peered behind the open door, and saw a blue denim jumper with embroidery trim around the bodice on one hanger, and a simple white blouse behind it. I hadn’t paid much attention before, but Julie was wearing a plain green jumper and a white turtleneck.

"Might as well get used to it, Mark," Julie smiled. "Do you want some help?"

"No, I’ll try to manage," I moaned. "But is this a good time to back out?–just kidding I guess. Anyway, I need to use the bathroom." I closed the door.

When I emerged in my jumper and blouse, I was wrapped in a pink smock and escorted to the hairwashing sink. With my neck bent backwards and me looking up at Tina, she began washing my hair. It felt kind of good. Afterwards, she dried my hair partway and began applying some sort of chemical goop into it. "This will take your hair from being bleached and pretty much colorless to Julie’s shade of blonde." She did some things with foil, so my hair would have some different shades of color to it, and look more natural, like Julie’s true blond. And she worked some kind of lightening agent into my eyebrows. Then came rinsing, a spell under the dryer, and my straight hair now matched the color of Julie’s. Next, I was led to a chair and asked to sit. "Now it’s perm time, Mark. You’re being a good sport about this." She pointed out the tray full of papers and rollers near my right arm. "To get the same curly effect of Julie’s hair, we will use lots of the smallest curlers we have. It will help if as you feel me finish with one of this size roller"–she lifted up a tiny one–"you will hand me first a paper wrapper and then another roller. It’ll be good practice in using those gorgeous new nails." And it was. I dropped a few as we went on, but I slowly began to feel more sure of myself. Mom asked if she could apply a little makeup to my face as Tina rolled my hair. Tina could finish it up later. Tina said "sure," and mom began putting foundation on. Looking at my whiskers bothered her while the rest of me was looking so feminine.

Julie interrupted. "Mark, I promised not to paint your nails when you were asleep. May I go ahead and paint your toenails now?" Well, why not? She held up royal blue nail polish, to contrast with that on my fingers. I felt her slip off my tennis shoes and socks. As I kept handing up rollers and papers, all the women were fussing over me, and chattering about how much fun this was. Well, it was my hair that was being pulled and stretched tight. The smell from the chemicals they daubed on each roller didn’t help my mood much, either. At least Sarah would smile every now and then and give me a thumbs-up sign, and mouth, "I love you." After the longest time, my hair was rolled, the chemicals applied, a plastic cap put on, and again I was under a dryer.

After the buzzer rang, Tina unwrapped my hair, handing me the rollers to put back in the box. There must have been hundreds. Then she picked my hair out and fluffed it up, until I looked like a sunflower or something. A few artful snips from scissors, and soon my hair took on the shape of Julie’s tussle. Then Tina said, "This part will sting a little, Mark. She daubed my earlobes with disinfectant, then one, two, tIhree, in my left earlobe, and one, two in my right, now all filled with small gold studs. It smarted a bit, but not bad. She explained how to keep my ears from getting infected, and said that by Sunday morning I would be able to wear prettier earrings.

The women, under Tina’s guidance, looked carefully at me, then back at Julie. "Eyebrows," someone said. They all nodded. Even with mine lightened in color, they were still pretty bushy and wild. "Don’t worry about this, Mark," Tina said as she picked up an electric clipper and comb. "Men do trim their eyebrows." She buzzed over them, shortening them and making them less unruly. Then she looked back at Julie. "I could wax them a little to shape them nicer, right here on the bottom of the arch and here at the ends," she said, pointing at my brows. They wouldn’t be too thin for a man’s, but still would help him look more like Julie. Is that okay? Mom nodded. I nodded. I thought she meant something like you put in your hair to make it stand up. She applied a few spots, then OW! Off came the wax, and a bunch of eyebrow hair with it. I’m used to pain, because bicycle racers tend to fall off their bikes every now and then and get their legs or arms scraped up pretty badly. This just caught me off guard.

Tina said, "Mark, don’t worry about being too feminized when the six weeks is up. Lots of teen boys aren’t as conservative as you and experiment with their looks. You can come back from your trip with two little hoops in each ear, unless you just want to let the holes grow over. You can keep your hair blond, or we can color it back to dark brown, and your brows, too. Nobody will suspect anything." That was reassuring.

Tina fussed a little with eye shadow and mascara, some highlight on my cheeks, and lipstick, and said, "Tada!" Because of the extra makeup, I not only looked like Julie, I even looked more feminine than she did.

"Welcome to the club, sweetie," Tina smiled. "You look great, if I do say so myself. And I did, if I conveniently put aside the fact that I was a guy.

Julie started snapping pictures of me–she was always a bit of a camera nut.

"Wait a minute–I said. "What are you planning to do with those pictures?"

Julie smiled. "Don’t worry, Mark. You’re saving my life and Sara’s by going through with all this. I promise you that I won’t blackmail you or embarrass you with any pictures I take of you during all this. If I show them to other people, I’ll tell them that they are pictures of me. And someday, you might enjoy seeing them, yourself."

MOTHER AND SON? DAUGHTER?

When we came home, it was after 11. I was glad that we had an enclosed garage and I could slip from there into the kitchen. It was after 11, and I was exhausted, and I definitely didn’t want nosy neighbors to think that Julie was spending the night. Dad was astounded at my appearance, but didn’t say much. He just smiled and shook his head. Mom helped me off with my makeup. She laid out a pink nightgown, panties and bra for me. "You’ll need to wear the bra at nights when you’re at Hope Haven. Otherwise, there might be an emergency, you’d run out into the hallway, and there you’d be." I thought about that as I slipped back out of her sight to change into the panties. Then I asked for help with the bra. She showed me how to hook it and turn it around. It was padded–not very much, but neither was Julie.

"Mom, I appreciate your help, but sometimes I wonder if you’re getting a little too enthusiastic."

"Mark, I love you dearly, and I wouldn’t trade you for any one. But yes, I’m enjoying this, maybe a little more than I should, because I had always wanted for you to have a sister. I think you’re doing a wonderful thing here, and you’ll be a better man for it. I am so proud of you. Besides, we only have tonight, tomorrow, and Sunday together, to get you prepared for what’s going to be a really challenging experience."

I just smiled and kissed her goodnight. This was getting way strange, but it meant I got to be together with Sara. I slept restlessly. Each time I woke, I was aware of the sore earlobes and eyebrows, and nails that tended to catch on things, bending back and pulling on my fingers. And I dreamed. I dreamed that I woke up with large, real breasts, wide hips, and nothing between my legs. When I woke up with a start and covered with sweat, I discovered that what was between my legs was actually quite large. I put my sexy blue fingernails to work to relieve the pressure, with the feeling I may be doing quite a lot of that in the next 6 weeks.

I got dressed in last night’s outfit–the blue jumper and blouse. I almost had to yell for mom to help, trying to get the buttons on the jumper and the blouse fastened with my long nails, but I made it on my own.

It was Saturday morning–only five days ago. Mom and I puttered around, gathering what little I needed for the trip, since Julie was putting together most of my specialized wardrobe. Mom had me practice putting on makeup, time after time, until it got easier, and I looked less scary. "Your eyes are a little smaller than Julie’s, but if you use eye shadow, that will help compensate. And Julie’s eyes are greenish-blue, so I’d use light green tints to bring out what little green you have in yours." Mom told me a bunch of stuff that I had already figured out, like not to ogle when I went into a women’s restroom, to sit down to pee, stuff like that. Then she surprised me a bit. "Mark, you know how Sarah has been discouraged a lot lately?"

"Sure, she has a lot to be discouraged about. But I think she’ll get over it."

Mom looked deeply concerned. "Sara’s taken a huge blow to her body image. It’s hard for her to see herself as attractive. She’s going to be depending on you to be the one to let her know she’s still acceptable. She’ll be very vulnerable, very fragile emotionally. Sometimes she may act grateful, and other times hateful. Do you know how to deal with that?"

"Mom, we’ve talked about the sex thing. I won’t take advantage of her vulnerability. I won’t try to seduce her."

"It’s more than that, Mark. She may try to seduce you, just to prove she can, and feel rejected if she doesn’t. You’ll have to walk a very fine line emotionally, giving her the security that she needs without it going too far." Well, it was something to think about. So I asked what we were doing for lunch. When uncomfortable, change the subject.

She smiled. "You and I and Mrs. Holding are going out for lunch and on a shopping trip!"

Thursday, June 19

Sarah was feeling pretty weak yesterday. So today I dressed up more than she had ever seen me, in a really cool khaki dress. That impressed her. This evening I told her the story of how I came to have it. And since that comes next in the story, I can tell you.

THE SHOPPING TRIP

"A shopping trip? With me like this? I may fool people at the university hospitals and Hope Haven, but I can’t go around Fort Russell where Julie’s friends might see me!"

"Sure you can," she smiled.

"But I thought you were just going to give me girl tips today."

"Learning by doing, honey. Julie is spending some time with Sarah today. If someone thinks you’re Julie, just act like her. And act like Mrs. Holding is your mother. You’re going to be awfully inexperienced in acting like a girl if you don’t start until tomorrow afternoon. Besides, there’s some things I want to buy you, special things. Oh, by the way–" she reached down and pulled up a bulky pair of panties. "This is my little invention for you. They have pads on the sides, held in by velcro patches, to give you hips, so your clothes will fit better. You might go try them on before Vivian Holding gets here." I’m not the only one who changes subjects. I went to the bathroom and changed. It did seem to make even the loose jumper fit a little better.

When Mrs. Holding arrived, mom made sure that I checked my lipstick. Then it was into the car, and to the mall. We had lunch at a gourmet burger place near the mall. I discovered that with my new nails it was easier to pick up burgers than to pick up silverware to eat the slaw, but I slowly got the hand of it. Lunch was fine, and a lot of fun, in spite of my self-consciousness. I knew objectively that nobody would recognize me, but still…. Mom accompanied on my first trip to a woman’s bathroom since I was three, and I must have passed her test. As we sat down in the car, mom explained her agenda. "We have your underwear, as you know. We’ll stop off at the bicycle store and get you a larger helmet, probably in a girl’s style, to fit over your curls better. Then I want to get you a nice outfit or two–a dress, hose, some fashionable shoes."

"Mom, why? Hope Haven is informal, Hospitals aren’t dressy, they’re full of people in white robes and scrubs and gowns with no backs. Jeans, tee shirts, shorts, that sort of thing like Julie’s packing will be fine."

"Several reasons. We and the Holdings are planning to drive up on alternate weekends. We’d like to go to church with you, and hopefully with Sara. We want Sarah to get out a little bit, away from Hope Haven. We may take you to some nice dinners, and we’re going to give you some money so you can do that for Sara, too. We’re not talking evening gowns or formals, honey, just something nice. The other reason is that we want you to know what it’s like. We have to wear outfits like that practically every day to work, you know." She smiled. Fine. More torture.

In the women’s clothing store, mom and Mrs. Holding were having entirely too much fun pulling dresses off racks, holding them up to me, and asking me to try some on.

"Don’t be embarrassed, dear, you’ll seem out of character," mom would whisper.

Mrs. Holding giggled. "No it won’t. Julie gets embarrassed when I take her shopping for good clothes. But don’t you love this navy skirt? And these blouses coordinate so nicely."

I had just come out of the dressing room wearing the navy blue skirt and the white blouse with the navy trim. Unfortunately, I don't suppose my tennis shoes set the outfit off too well. The outfit felt kind of nice, and I have to admit it did look classy in a conservative, professional sort of way. My two "moms" were admiring it and making little comments, nodding their heads. If I had to wear something more formal at all, though, I still thought I should look like an 18-year old teen more than a 30-year old businesswoman. Then I saw Carrie (pronounce it pre-dough, please) Predeaux coming. She's one of the innest of the in, always wearing the coolest clothes and hanging with the coolest people. Also, she knows it. Normally she would look past Julie (or me), and pretend we weren't there unless she wanted something from us. I was desperately hoping that would happen this time, and that hope was all that kept me from dashing back into the dressing room.

It wasn't to be. "Julie," she waved and smiled. "Don't you look nice today? And I don't think I've ever seen you with so much makeup on, even at the honors banquet." Act like Julie would, I thought. Be polite, but do not let her get to you.

"Hi, Carrie. It's so nice to see you. Here let me introduce you to my mother, Mrs. Holding, and to my aunt Fran." They all nodded, smiled, and touched hands. "I know the makeup isn't quite me, but these two ladies treated me to a makeover because I'm leaving for college next week. I have to admit I enjoyed it. It's not usual that a jock like me gets so much pampering. I understand you're going to Stanford, wasn't it?" I knew that Stanford had turned her down and she was going to State.

"Well, it turns out that State has a better program in fashion design," she lied, "so I decided to go there instead. But mom went there, and I'm sure once I get into my mom's sorority, I'll have a great time. It’s the best on campus, you know. You're going to that little college down the road, aren't you, Julie? Did you have to take some remedial courses that you're going this summer?"

"No, I'm going to be an instructor in some of their sports clinics." Time to change the subject. " That's a great dress you have folded over your arm. Did you just buy it?" She smiled and unfolded the khaki dress with teal trim. Classy, understated, and great lines, and it looked comfortable, too. I oohed over it.

"I usually buy at St. Clair's, but sometimes you can find something nice in the department stores, for everyday, comfy wear. It was over in the Misses department, but they may have it in larger sizes," like I was fat or something. I'm sure that Julie's body fat ratio as an athlete was a lot lower than Miss Curvy here, but I just smiled.

"I hope so. It's darling." I was picking up the vocabulary, it seems, and the drawl sounded right, too. Now maybe she'll go away.

"And Mrs. Harding," she said to Julie's mom, my "mom." I was so sorry to hear about your daughter Sally. To think, someone that pleasant and cheerful, and she may never walk again. What a loss. What will happen to her? And I don't suppose that Mark is around anymore. Boys just can't be depended upon." Morbid curiosity at work, and now I was ticked. She had patronized and insulted just about everybody. Mom was about to speak, and I blurted my feelings.

"Callie, let me tell you something about real life and real people. Yes, Sarah Holding, not Sally Harding, lost her leg. Mark–thank you for getting his name right, it's fairly simple so even you can manage it, has been there for her practically every day. But I will promise you something. When you're fussing over a zit or a damaged cuticle in your sorority, she will be walking to class for her senior year at Fort Russell High. Her life isn't over, and I feel more sorry for you than I do for her. She's missing a leg, and our family isn't rich, but she has class that money can't buy, and she'll go farther than a lot of girls like you will in life, because you have a worse handicap–you think a good life is something people will just give you on a silver platter, and so you won't end up earning anything worthwhile." It was fun watching her lips thin out and her eyes bulge. I managed to keep my voice under control, and was glad when she spun around and left. "What a self-absorbed airhead," I muttered.

Would the two moms think I passed the girl test, or should I have ignored the catty stuff and just smiled? Their hugs showed I passed. "This outfit I have on is very nice, moms," I smiled at them and lifted my arm in a modeling pose. "But I noticed that they had a similar skirt in burgundy that will be a little livelier, yet still classy, so let's find that and let me try it on."

"Good idea," said Mrs. H. "And Julie, I'm proud you are our daughter. That young lady may have been a bit of a snob, but she does have good fashion sense. That khaki was great!" Mom nodded and grinned. Mrs. H. turned to mom. "I know that you were planning to buy a dressy outfit for her, Fran, but let me buy the khaki, if they have one that fits, for Julie for next fall, and this Julie can wear it whenever she wants." So that's what we did. Of course, mom picked me out a casual blue floral print skirt and a blouse that went well with it.

Then, of course, came the shoe warehouse, also at the mall, for matching pumps to the burgundy and blue outfits, and some funky leather sandals that would go great with the khaki and just about anything else. Okay, okay, so I was starting to get into it. We'll probably give away the shoes after I'm through with this, but Julie's going to get a great wardrobe. I thought I had enough hose, but mom picked up some more knee highs at the shoe place. Accessories were next. Mrs. Holding had instructed me earlier to watch the ears of teenage girls (not usually the first thing I look to), and notice what they were wearing. I did that, and it was kind of fun picking out several sets of earrings. Some hoops and danglies for the bottom hole, and smaller studs for the others, a couple of chain bracelets, a pinky ring, and some pins for my blouses finished my "new look."

On the way out, we passed a jeans store. I stopped and admired a baby blue pair of cut-off bib overalls, with an embroidered Tigger on the bib. "Look at that," I called. "Doesn’t that look like something Julie would love?"

"Or something you’d love," mom grinned. "It’ll go great with your nails and eyes. Okay, you’re going to save us enough in grocery money over the next six weeks by eating on Hope Haven’s budget, that I think I can afford the bibs. And you said that I was the one who was really getting into this." Okay, maybe we’d both end up on Springer, but we’re enjoying one another.

I trusted the two moms to run into the bike shop to get me a new helmet–too many people there knew Julie and me way, way, too well. Then another car pulled in next to mine, and Tarisa Williams got out, a basketball teammate of Julie’s.

"Julie, hi!" she waved. She asked me how Sarah Beth was doing, but her asking was from genuine concern. Then I could see a puzzled look on her face. "Julie, baby, I’ve looked at your eyes a thousand times, and I could have sworn they were green."

"Contacts. I thought that colored ones would be fun to try, but I’m not too thrilled with them." She told me that she had to run, waved, and went into the store. I was glad this trip was about over–way too much chance of getting caught. When the two moms came out, I wasn't too surprised that the helmet was pink. Except for being form-fitting to different forms, the male and female racing uniforms for the Ocelots were alike (yes, it has a splash of color like ocelot fur and neon bright paw prints running around the logos). So I guess that hot pink on the helmet is subtle by comparison.

Fastforward--Friday, June 20

Sara’s awake this evening! Good sign. She’s sitting, reading some novel, as I begin tonight’s entry. She looks up and smiles, and I’m absorbed by those great green eyes. "You’re great with those little kids, Annie. They all love you."

I smile back. "Thanks. It’s fun." When they saw my Tigger bibs today, they were all over me. So I played dolls and trucks and checkers, and read story after story. "Wasn’t that funny when Marnie said I had the best muscled legs she’d ever seen on a lady?"

Sarah Beth laughed. "And you said that when she got home, if she kept riding her bicycle lots and lots, maybe someday she would too. Those bibs do show your legs off to pretty good advantage. I know Kevin over in PT wanted to say something, but was too embarrassed."

"If I had his legs, I’d be embarrassed too."

"Oh, come on, smarty. Kevin’s legs aren’t that bad. He has to be strong to do the physical therapy stuff he does. He sure wore me out. By the way, Annie, it isn’t just the kids that love you. This kid does, too. None of the heroes in these silly romance novels would dare do what you’re doing for me."

"Ah shucks, ma’am, you make me blush," I said.

So who’s Annie? That takes you back to last Sunday, and our trip to Hope Haven.

Chapter 3

Mark officially becomes Annie, and our couple moves in at Hope House.

Annie is Born

We had gathered at the Holdings. Mom and dad were there to say goodbye to me. We were taking the Holding’s minivan and Julie’s (temporarily my) beat-up old gray Honda. In the minivan were Mr. Holding, Julie, all Julie’s college stuff, and Sara’s wheelchair. Sara, her mom, Sara’s crutches and our luggage filled the Honda. Sarah was in a funny mood. "I’ll sit in the back seat of the Honda. I don’t take up as much leg room as I used to. Mom, you can sit up front with your older daughter." Today I was comfortable in cutoff jeans and a  ¾ arm tee shirt that said "Property of Ft. Russell Central High Lady Rustlers’ Basketball Team" on the front and "Julie Holding" across the back.

As we were loading, Mr. Holding asked, "Julie, do you have everything out here now?"

Julie and I both answered, "Yes, dad."

We got under way. Mrs. Holding looked back at her daughter, and asked "Are you doing okay, sweetie?"

Julie answered, "Considering that I’m going to spend six weeks getting wrung through a physical wringer in the mornings, poisoned in the afternoons, all my hair will probably fall out, and my roommate will be a crazy boy who looks like my sister, not too bad, I guess." Well, she wasn’t in denial, anyway.

Our plans were to stop for lunch at a restaurant at the edge of the city. We would drop Julie off to visit a friend, and then we would go to Hope Haven and unload. When the Holdings left, they would pick up Julie, stay at a motel, and drive her the thirty miles to her college. Her program didn’t start until Thursday, but they had made arrangements for her to arrive early.

After a few miles, Sarah spoke up again. "You know how before we left and dad said something to Julie and you both answered? That’s happened a couple of times and it bothers me, for some reason. I know people have to think you’re Julie, but I’m uncomfortable calling you that. You’re not my sister–well, not my sister Julie, anyway. So I’d like to call you something else, just as a nickname. It’ll make things less confusing in my heart."

"I can understand that, honey. It would be less confusing in general," Mrs. H began. "Do you have any ideas? Maybe Mark could become Marcia or something?"

"Marcia, Marcia, Marcia," I whined in my best Jan Brady voice (too much Nick at Night).

"I know!" Sarah said. "For the next six weeks you are not Mark, you are Annie. My sister Annie. It fits you better, somehow. You look more like an Annie than a Julie, or a Marcia. Julie’s name is Julia Annette, so we could explain to people that I like to call you by your middle name. They won’t know it’s your middle name, Andrew, that Annie is short for."

"Okay," I laughed. "I like that. Annie I am. We’ll tell the others when we stop for lunch." After a couple of miles, I asked, "I won’t have to dye these blond curls orange, will I, and wear a little orange dress, and sing ‘Tomorra, Tomorra,’ will I?"

"No, you’re not an orphan Annie. You’re my Annie. You have two families. And I love you, Annie," Sarah said softly.

We stopped for lunch at a big family-style restaurant that we like. I wasn’t sure how good the food at Hope Haven would be, and I had bad memories of the hospital cafeteria, so I really enjoyed a double country fried steak. If I’m going to live as a girl, I’m really glad I get to be a girl jock, so I can pretty well eat whatever I want. Mr. H and Julie liked Sarah Beth’s idea, so Annie I was from that day on.

Unpacking

Hope Haven is a big old mansion converted to its present use. We unloaded our stuff, took it up to second floor on an elevator, and went down for an orientation session with Mrs. Berdugo, the administrator. She explained more about the Healing Partners program that worked between the hospital and Hope Haven. A family member, along with the patient, formed a healing team. The family member provided for the patient’s basic needs when the patient couldn’t handle them, with the assistance of 24-hour nursing staff. The healing team went together for treatment, in Sara’s case, physical therapy in the morning and chemo every other afternoon, and other medical tests and procedures, as well. I would be the youngest family member staying at Hope Haven. Most of the others were parents or a few older brothers or sisters or aunts or uncles. So she certainly hoped that I would act maturely and responsibly. I asked why we had a second floor room, given Sara’s condition. What if the electricity went out, or the elevator broke down? Mrs. Berdugo looked down her glasses at me. "Sarah is ambulatory, even though she has only one leg. She is in better shape than the first floor guests. She can make it down the steps on crutches, or she can bump down on her rump. And you, Miss Holding, are to help her." Tough lady, that Mrs. Berdugo. The house itself had two wings, the south one mostly for preteen children, the north one for kids like us. We weren’t isolated, or anything, and we ate meals together in a common dining room. We were also encouraged to help with housekeeping functions.

We met a few of the kids. Billy Yates was a little bald-headed guy who looked about 8 but was actually 13, who was having his fourth bout with cancer. Kelly, a 14-year old girl, was scarred up from burns in a trailer fire, and was recuperating from skin grafts. Nell was in a wheelchair with CP, I think, but had undergone orthopedic surgery and was doing physical therapy. There were other kids that we saw coming and going, but wouldn’t meet until supper.

We went upstairs and unpacked. The room was small, had two single beds, one on either side, 2 dressers, a desk, a close nook, and an attached bathroom. It looked like a college dorm room in an old quaint dorm, except for the pull up bars all over the place, and the low altitude of the desk, toilet, and sink, to make them wheelchair accessible–oh, yeah, the wide doors, too. There was a phone jack, but no phone–the in-room phone cost extra, and the Holdings had told us that it would save them a lot of money if we just used the phone rooms located on all the floors. That meant no internet access for me. No TV either–people can bring their own, but Mrs. Berdugo recommends that they don’t. It was better for building community if we shared the TVs in the two living rooms.

We chose dressers and began to unpack. Remember how I thought that I wouldn’t have much trouble with Julie’s informal wardrobe of mostly jeans, shorts, and tees, pretty much like what I was wearing today? When I had mentioned that at lunch, Julie and Sarah both just smiled. The shorts and tops I pulled from off the top were pastels, pinks, yellows, blues, greens, and lavenders. I found more skirts and sundresses than I thought Julie even owned. And when I got to the other bag, I came to even more delicate blouses and skirts, silky slips and what Sarah told me were camisoles.

"What’s going on? I know Julie doesn’t ever wear anything like this."

"Oh, come on, Annie. They’re beautiful clothes. The ones in that bag are from Joan Kim. She’s so impressed with what you’re doing, she wanted to help out by loaning you some of the clothes that she can’t wear during her pregnancy. Wasn’t that sweet?"

"I guess so, Sara. I don’t know, This is kind of threatening to me. But even these clothes from Julie are more, well, feminine, then I expected. Maybe I could drive over to the discount mall and buy some cheap jeans and tees."

"Annie, you’re a girl, now. Live with it. Look the part. Enjoy it, even."

"I don’t think I can enjoy it. It makes me feel kind of strange. It scares me."

"It scares me to be here, Annie, and to think of all they’re going to do to me. If I can handle that, you can handle this. I’ll be here for you. Would you wear these clothes instead of buying those jeans and tees if I told you this was my idea?"

"Well, yes, I guess so. Was it?"

"Not completely, but sorta. When Julie was packing, she made two piles–stuff she needed for college and stuff she didn’t need quite so badly, that she thought you could wear. I noticed that the pile she was making for herself was the kind of stuff you thought you were getting–her normal day-to-day wardrobe. Your pile wasn’t very big, and it was a bit more feminine. Then I remembered her drawerful of Aunt Clare clothes.Some of the more girlish things she gave you were originally gifts from Aunt Clare, who is very conservative, and thinks girls should be girls. Julie usually wears them only when Aunt Clare is visiting. But I always liked them on Julie, and I think I’ll like them on you. So please? Can Annie have a bit more feminine look than her twin Julie?" Blindsided again. Oh, well. Some of the outfits are pretty nice. And Sarah promised to help me with the laundry. I even promised Sarah that I would try everything on, at least once, even if I didn’t wear it all day, or in front of other people.

That pretty well catches the record up to our arrival here at Hope Haven. Things fell into a pattern fairly quickly. Sunday night for supper, we asked Kelly, the girl with the burns, if we could sit with her. She looked startled but pleased. As she opened up, we got the impression she’d been pretty much of a loner, and other kids were uncomfortable around her. For some reason, we three really clicked, and spent all week being together at meal times and free times. She also received physical therapy on a similar schedule with Sarah Beth, so we’re together over there a lot, too. Kelly didn’t talk much about what happened to her, and we didn’t press. She lived on a ranch over in Franklin County. As she was 19 and had been to Hope Haven for repeated visits, they had waived the requirement of having a family member stay with her.

Sarah had lots of medical tests on Monday, and began her daily PT, designed at this point to build up her strength in her hips and leg. The prosthetics people also made a cast of her stump early in the week, so they could customize a leg that would fit comfortably. It was fun being with Sarah in the PT unit, helping her and encouraging her. It wasn’t as much fun going to chemo with her, and definitely not as much fun for her to receive the shots, pills, and Ivs of stuff designed to kill any remaining cancer cells before it killed her.

So now I’m finishing this long record on Friday night. We’re staying here for most weekends, even though Sara’s treatments are mostly Monday-Friday. We figure the ride back and forth will be too tiring for her as the treatments take their toll. Each weekend, our parents will alternate visits. My mom and dad are coming up tomorrow, and will take us out for lunch. Maybe I’ll see if I can freak dad out by wearing that beautiful red silk blouse and long black silk skirt from Joan. Or that jade green dress. Hmmm.

Saturday June 21 and Sunday June 22

I chickened out on the sexy satin outfit this morning. After all, it was Saturday, and I wanted Saturday clothes. I settled on a pair of cutoffs again, green this time, and a pale yellow knit pullover that felt almost like a tee-shirt. Sarah and I took the elevator down to the laundry room to wash and dry our clothes. A lot of the residents and their family members had left, either for the day or the weekend, so we got some kissing in between folding undies. Sarah complained about the vampires, who kept taking blood for blood tests, and said that she felt about a quart low. We laughed about the antics of the younger kids during the previous week.

Kelly came in, the girl recuperating from burns. She walked slowly and stiffly. She had on sandals, shorts and a sleeveless pullover, so we could see more of the red, scarred areas. Some of them had dressings taped on. I had noticed earlier that her scarred right hand was missing two fingers, but now with her sandals I saw that her foot hadn’t fared any better. I tried not to react, but she must have picked up on a tiny wince. "Sorry," she said. "I know this isn't pretty. But clothes hurt a lot." She started to load the other washer. "Looks like we both got it on the right side, Sara. People keep telling me I should be thankful to be alive, but sometimes it hurts so bad, and people stare at me, and I wonder. But I guess I'm glad. Sometimes I get jealous looking at you. It's obvious you're really close. I had a sister. We argued sometimes, but we still loved each other. She didn't make it through the fire. Neither did my dad. It’s just me and mom now."
"How long ago was the fire, Kelly?" Sarah asked.

"A year ago last December. My dad was a ranch hand, and mom’s a cook. Mom was visiting a sick sister one night, and dad fell asleep smoking. He died in the fire, and my sister didn’t survive the burns. They didn’t think I would, either. This is my sixth round of plastic surgery and followup rehab. Keeping the skin and muscles flexible is a bitch, but it's worth it. I'd just curl up in a ball otherwise. Probably one more week for me this time, then home for a few months and then back again." I was amazed that it had been that long. If she had been through six rounds of plastic surgery, what would she have looked like before? Wow. Sara's situation was tough, but Kelly's was worse.

"We'll miss you, when you go, Kelly," I said. "But I'm glad for us that we have these two weeks together."

"Julie, do you feel kind of strange sometimes being the only normal kid here?" she asked suddenly.

"That depends on your definition of normal, I guess. I was with Sarah so much at the hospital, and then at home before we came here, that it doesn't bother me much to be around kids with medical problems. We're a lot alike in some ways. What you see on the outside doesn't have much to do with what's on the inside. A lot of kids–boys and girls–treat me like I'm a little bit of a freak because I'm athletic and plain and all."
Kelly smiled. "Well, I think you're cute, in a funky kind of way. Do you have a boy friend?" she asked.

I was trying to answer according to Julie's frame of reference. "Not right now. I've had a few. I'm going to college next fall, so I guess there's still hope."

Kelly looked at Sara. "You're still kind of shy about people seeing you without your leg, aren't you? I'm sorry if I'm getting too personal. It's still hard for me to be out on the city street and notice people staring at me and asking dumb questions. But I can only be who I am, you know? And how others take me, that's their problem, not mine. Maybe sometime we three can go out together, if that's okay with the two of you, and get some fast food, or loop the mall, or something. Then you'll be out in the crowd, and won't be the center of attention."

I wanted to jump at the chance. One of my big goals was to make Sarah feel more comfortable out in public. But it had to be Sara's decision. "Yeah, I'd like that," she smiled. "And not just because I want you to be the decoy, but because I really like to be with you. What do you say, Annie?

"Sure. Our aunt and uncle are coming over, and should be here about lunchtime. They'll probably want to eat supper with us, and dinner tomorrow. How about a trip to the mall and supper at the fast food court tomorrow evening? Maybe we could even catch a flick."

We talked a bit longer, griping about the food and the grouchy aide. When the laundry was finished, we went up and waited for my folks–woops, our aunt Fran and uncle Carl–to come. It was nearly twelve when they arrived. We all hugged, and they said, "It's so good to see you, Annie." So the Holdings had gotten the message through about my new identity.

Although Hope Haven was okay and I really liked the kids, it was great to get away for a few hours. We had lunch in the car at a drive in, then drove into the mountains. We both did a lot of chattering about the first week. For supper, my folks suggested a fancy Chinese restaurant they had already checked out for accessibility. Sarah agreed–twice in one weekend she would be out in public! Of course, Sarah asked me to wear the nicest silk dress that Joan had sent–long, jade green, shapely, and with a sexy slit. She also made up my "night" face, and helped me put in some long, dangly earrings. Dad's eyes widened when he saw me, but he smiled and said "You're looking beautiful, girls. All three of you." I impressed everybody with my chopstick dexterity–the long nails actually helped keep them balanced. We watched a TV movie in their motel room before they brought us back to Hope Haven.

Sarah begged off from church that morning, so I went with my folks. It was time to premier the burgundy skirt. I felt a little strange to realize how pleased I was with how I looked–not just for being able to pass as Julie, but just with how nice I looked as Annie. After church, we picked up a pizza and took it back to Hope Haven. I changed back to my grubbies for the afternoon. My parents left soon after we killed the pizza. While Sarah napped, I bicycled a few miles on a great bike path the city had built along the river. I wasn't trying for speed, just exercise and relaxation.

Sara, Kelly, and I climbed into the Honda to go to the mall. Although Sarah used the chair, she brought her crutches with her, too, so she could reach the machines at the arcade, and for exercise. She even chose a skirt, rather than less-revealing slacks. Oh, we got the stares, all right. Sometimes we'd stare back. We got a few smiles and friendly waves, too. "Are you feeling comfortable with us, Annie?" Kelly whispered once.

"Having the time of my life," I smiled. I thought how just a week ago I was frightened about going on a shopping trip as a girl. Now I was having a ball. What more could a girl want, except for maybe a new set of earrings and a teal pin-on hair ribbon to go with the khaki dress? And those were mine in short order. Should I be worrying that I was having such a good time?

Monday, June 23

We spent a long morning at rehab today. Last week the prosthetics experts had made a mold of her stump, and today they were working with her to fit a cup that would hold her to and cushion her from her prosthesis. Also last week was lots of exercise, building strength and flexibility in her hip, and general muscle tone. Sarah Beth’s muscle tone had always been good, but had taken a beating with her illness. So it was today that they worked on fitting the cup to her stump. I was interested in the process but couldn’t do much. After lunch came the chemo session. As her partner, I went back with her to the waiting room and then the treatment room. There were other kids with cancer in the waiting room, one or two who were staying at Hope Haven, and the rest who were outpatient or still inpatient. Some still had their hair, some wigs, some bandanas or scarves, some just bald. So far, we were lucky with the chemo side effects. They, along with the PT really tired Sarah Beth, and they had caused some nausea and queasiness, but nothing she couldn’t handle. The queasiness would come and go, but for the most part, she felt decent if rather tired.

It was a great early summer day, temperature in the high 70s, when we left the children’s hospital. I invited her to take a walk with me. I pushed her in her wheelchair down to a park area by the river. I sat on a park bench, and we held hands and talked.
"Mark," she started (no one was within earshot), "Are you sure that you’re okay with this? It was a great weekend, but are you really willing to spend five more weeks as Annie?"

"Absolutely," I said. "It’s not as bad as I thought keeping up the Annie image. I get a little nervous, though, when sometimes I feel like this is normal, that I am Annie. Like last night at the mall. Oh, by the way, I brought you something." I reached into my purse and pulled out a long green ribbon, the shade of her beautiful eyes.

"A ribbon? It’s a beautiful color. But were you forgetting that I may not have anything to wrap it around in a couple of weeks?" I stood up, moved behind her, and tied her long wavy ginger-colored hair back with it, and made a fairly respectable bow. I sat back down.

"No, I’m not forgetting. I think about it every day when I see some of the kids at Hope Haven or the chemo waiting area. I just want you to have it to remind you that after you lose your hair, it will come back, and someday I’ll put the ribbon in your hair again, just like I did now. I will always love you, Sarah Beth Holding."

"And I’ll always love you, Mark, or Annie, or whoever you are."

We sat and watched the shallow river burble over rocks. Then we went back for supper and an evening in the tv room with the other kids.

Tuesday, June 24

Same old same old during the daily routine. Sarah didn’t have chemo, since it’s Tuesday, but she did have lab work done. It was hotter out and Sarah was feeling a little queasy when we left the hospital, so we didn’t go wandering. We sat in the living room at Hope Haven. Billy, whose tee shirt said "The Cancer Kid" since he’s had so much experience with it, challenged me to a few rounds on his Game Boy. He wiped me out after a fairly good struggle, and gave me a compliment: "You’re pretty good at this for a girl."

I didn’t record my Billy story from last week, the day we arrived. Billy introduced himself to us and asked Sarah how she lost her leg. Sarah said, "I’m a cancer victim, too."

Billy just about shouted. "Don’t say victim! You’re not a victim unless you let yourself be. You’re a cancer survivor!" Good point.

Wednesday, June 25

Sara’s been using a walker a lot in rehab, hopping along, and wearing the cup with nothing attached to it. How was chemo? "Nauseous boredom," she said. "Just glad you were there keeping me company, love."

This evening, I touched up my nails, and Sara’s, too. After they dried, I was sorting through one of my clothing doors and found a box that Julie had left me. It had some more costume jewelry and hair pins in it. I’d been using some of the long ribbons with bobby pins on each end that Julie and I draped through the back of our hair, in and out of the curls, like a garland on a Christmas tree. I thought it was a little juvenile for someone her age, but it was one of her little trademarks. I reached down through and discovered that the bottom of the box was filled with a really long streamer of red and blue ribbons, a good 18 inches long.

"What on earth is this?" I asked Sara.

"Don’t you know? I bet Julie didn’t realize she left that in there. The basketball team wore them when they came out and practiced at the start of every game. School colors, and all that?" Sarah reached over, took them from me and started shaking them like a pom pom.

"Oh, yeah. For awhile they painted their nails alternating red and blue, too. Probably your sister’s idea, her and her nail fetish. But these would be a little silly for me to where around here, wouldn’t they? Even though I said I’d try everything on once?"

Sarah nodded, "You’re probably right." Then she grinned. "Do you know how some of those little kids are really intrigued by your bike racing, and some of the bigger ones, too? Why not, some nice day soon, you give them a little demonstration. We could all gather on the porch, and you could wear your Ocelots uniform, and go around the block a few times at different speeds."

"Sounds good to me."

"And it would look so cute if you clipped these in your hair so they would stream out behind you from under the back of your helmet as you rode by."

Thursday June 26

It was a scorcher today! Sarah suggested I wear a sundress to keep cool, so I did–it went down to just above my knees, had a floral print on a cream background, fairly high bodice to hide my lack of cleavage, but bare shoulders. She found me a bra that didn't have shoulder straps, either. I wore a thin gold chain with a cross on it around my neck, and a bracelet of Julie's with a small basketball charm. My sandals felt good with the heat.

I've been really getting involved in the Physical Therapy unit at the children's hospital. Kevin Lewis, who I lovingly call PT Guy, is about thirty, cute according to Sarah but I bet he'll be bald on top by fifty. He's a combination of the best coaches I've ever had–he works his clients hard, but never puts them down. You can feel his passion for making people's bodies work better. Kevin's in charge of the PT unit here, and teaches it at the university. I help him with Sarah the best I can, and follow up on his instructions to see that she does her "homework" exercises. I also keep volunteering to work with others, doing what he teaches me to do, helping people with work that doesn't need a professional to do it. Today I've been watching Kevin working with Kelly, who is going home tomorrow, as he helps her move and stretch her body as it recuperated from her latest skin grafts. Kevin filled me in on how tendons and muscles had been damaged, too, and what they were doing to help. He showed me some simple movements I could work on with her, and said, "I'm going to go help another client. Just help her do these until she complains a lot, okay?"

The staff is short-handed, and Kevin asked me if I would be an official member of their volunteer staff. It involves some classroom lessons and guided instruction in the unit. Sara's my first concern of course, but it sounded great to me, so I signed on the dotted line.

When we were comparing notes on a patient, I asked him, "I noticed that Sarah is the only one here right now missing a limb. Do you have many people like that?"

"Amputees? Yes, quite a few. I see the people from the prosthetic company who do the fittings and adjustments more than I see some of my own relatives. Cancer cases like Sara's are tragic in a way, because it suddenly shoves a relatively healthy person into a whole new way of life. Accidents, too. After my first year here, I sold my motorcycle–I saw the aftermath of too many wrecks. I wouldn't be surprised if Sarah will have company after the Fourth of July weekend. That's always good for some major trauma, between cars, boats, and fireworks. What I enjoy, though, is working with the toddlers and young children sometimes, ones who are born without a lower arm or leg, for instance. They learn so quickly. I told Sarah that I fit a lower leg prosthesis on a six year old, and it came with Disney characters all over it. That girl isn't going to hide it, she'll show it off." He showed me a picture of this grinning little character hanging on his office bulletin board. "I told Sarah she could have one like it, if she wanted," He grinned.

We sat a few minutes, drinking cokes. "Julie?" He started. "Or is it okay to call you Annie like Sarah does? Somehow you seem more like an Annie to me."

"Annie's fine! The people at school all call me Julie, but I'm cool with Annie, especially from someone I like."

"I'm impressed with what you've been doing around here–you have a very caring manner, and people feel good about you working with them. A lot of people with athletic backgrounds freeze up in a place like this, but you don't act threatened or repulsed at all. If you haven't made a career choice yet, I hope you'll think about PT work."

Wow. I was impressed that he was impressed. "I'm going to Westland College on an athletic scholarship and work/study program, and I'm planning to major in Phys Ed and minor in sociology, but yes, I'd love to do this kind of work. That'd be great."

He smiled and said, "I'll do whatever I can to help you. I have some pretty good connections, and we can work out summer jobs, internships, scholarship help, so maybe you can do a joint program between Westland and the University."

Later, I was grinning from ear to ear, and told Sarah Beth about the conversation. She nodded. "He's right. You would be good at that. But he thinks you're Julie, or Annie. He doesn't even know Mark. Unless you're planning to stay as Annie for the rest of your life, I don't know how much he can help you."

"No, I don't mind being Annie for six weeks, but I really want Mark back."

"Me too, lover, me too," she smiled. "One of the things that I've always loved about you is that caring, gentle nature that Kevin was talking about. Sometimes as Mark you have to hide that to survive. It's just blossoming through with Annie. So maybe Annie will help Mark become as great a physical therapist as Kevin is."

Sarah had the afternoon off, and she felt tired. She suggested that I go back and help out in the PT unit, since it was too hot to go biking. I changed from the sundress, since it kind of got in my way during the morning session and changed into solid violet shorts with a violet top that had white butterflies outlined on it. (I can hear my grandchildren laughing when they read this.) After lunch and with Sarah napping, I went back over to the unit. Kelly was still over there. Kevin gave me the list of what work she still needed, and sent me back to work with her. "You're good at this, Annie," Kelly said. "You have a gentle touch, but you're not afraid of doing what you need to do."

"Thanks," I replied. "I enjoy working with you. Did I tell you that Kevin has signed me to his volunteer program, and is encouraging me to consider PT as a career?"

She smiled. "Sounds like a winner to me."

"Are you still planning to go home tomorrow?" I asked Kelly.

"Yep, the return of the Freak of Franklin County. I'm sorry. I've really been trying to overcome some of the bitterness about the way people look at me and everything. Most of my friends don't want to hang around with me–in public, at least."

"I can imagine. My sister experienced a little of that. We're hoping with time it'll get better." We shifted exercise patterns.

"It'll get better to a point," she grimaced. "But some folks will always be uncomfortable around people who look different or who have disabilities. I didn't want to ask this with Sarah around, but are you really sure about this boy friend?"

"Mark? Sure, I'm sure." I said, maybe a little too fast.

"I'm sorry, but you two say how devoted he is, and Sarah says that she talks with him every day even though he's out of town, but I sort the mail and she never gets any cards or letters from him that I can tell, and I'm right next to the second floor phone booth, and she doesn't hang around it like someone who talks with a friend daily. I just don't want her to crash and burn if he is easing out of the relationship"

I was a little upset. "Well, aren't you little Miss Snoopy?" She looked hurt. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound that mean. Mark's okay. Not perfect, but he isn't the type to give up on someone like Sara." I was talking a bit too fast and flustered, so we dropped the conversation. Kelly asked to take a break, and suggested we have a soda on the outdoor patio. We walked out. It was empty.

"Annie, you're right," she admitted. "I am Little Miss Snoopy sometimes where my friends are concerned, and right now I consider you and Sarah among my closest friends, even though we've only known each other two weeks. I drove people off pretty good early after my accident, because I was so angry and bitter. Nobody wanted me, I guessed, so I acted like I didn't need anybody else. So if I seem snoopy, it's because right now I'm caring for somebody again–you two. And don't worry. I'm a snoop, but I'm not a gossip."

"Is this leading somewhere, Kelly? I know that you're not a gossip, that's one of the reasons we enjoy sitting with you at mealtimes. We don't like that either. But what there be to gossip about on Sarah and me?" Hmmm.

"Okay. Please trust me on this. First of all, I know you're not Julie."

My mouth fell open. "What? What do you mean?"

"That phone booth is an old broom closet and it isn't soundproofed. Sometimes I overhear conversations without trying to, especially when I'm entering or leaving my room. One day, Sarah was in there, and she was talking to Julie, calling her that, and calling her Sis, and asking how basketball camps were going at Westland. I know that you can't get into Hope Haven without a family member, and if you were pretending to be Julie, then you weren't another family member."

I admitted she was right, that I was a close friend who didn't want to leave Sarah alone at such a tough time, since her folks couldn't be here for fear of losing their jobs, or her sister for losing her chance at a good education.

"You are a very close friend," she said. "Very close. Now I may be way off base, and you can slug me if you want, or scream at me, or laugh, or walk away angry, but I really do want to know if my suspicion is correct. Again, I won't tell anybody. Promise. Are you Mark?"

I sighed, stunned. I finally nodded. I explained what had happened and why I agreed to spend these weeks with Sara. She smiled when I told about some of the goofy situations we experienced. She seemed to believe it when I told her that we were trying to be true to our commitment not to have sex during this time. Finally I asked how she figured it out.

"Sarah never showed me a picture of Mark, like most girls do their boyfriends. There weren't any pictures of Mark on her dresser in her room. She seemed so comfortable and happy talking about him, but I didn't see any real signs that she and him were communicating. And you two get along way too well for sisters," she smiled. "It would explain why you always wear makeup on your face. I don't see you as being the kind that would be concerned about a complexion problem, like you told me about earlier, especially around Hope Haven, unless that complexion problem was a beard. The final evidence for me was this morning, when you were working with Sarah on some exercises and were real close to her, there seemed to be a bulge in that cute sundress."

I looked bleakly at her. "I trust you that you won't give us away, Kelly. But now I'm terrified. If you figured it out, somebody else might. I'd been feeling so secure in all this, so smug, and now all I can think of is the disaster that would happen if the staff at Hope Haven, or the staff here at the hospital found out. I thought we could carry it off. But if we can't, this is just too critical a time in Sara's life for that to happen. I don't really care what happens to me, but it could devastate the girl I love."

"Hey," she said, patting my hands. "Nice nails, by the way. Did I ever tell you that? But you do such a great job at being Annie, you're so absolutely convincing, that I doubted my doubts about you. If anyone can make this happen, you can. By the way. I know you told me that you had never done this before, but are you having fun as Annie?"

"Yes, I'll have to admit it. I am enjoying it. I never thought I would. I hope that doesn't mean there's anything wrong with me."

"Nothing's wrong with you, Mark. Just keep on enjoying being Annie, and this will all work out. Trust me."

Snoopy or not, I was going to miss this girl.

Friday, June 27

With the kids gathered on the porch cheering me on like I was in the Tour de France, I rode past Hope Haven three or four times, showing off shamelessly. The last time the street was clear, so I sprinted for speed, back horizontal, and I could feel the long blue and red streamers tugging sharply at my hair, whipping straight back in the windstream. Thunderous applause from the eager troops. I slowed down, cornered up a curb cut to the sidewalk, and did a victory lap, hands clasped above my head.

As I walked the bike back up the ramp leading to the porch, I said, "There’s someone else who deserves more cheers. Sarah Beth Holding took her first steps on a new right leg today." When the new cheering subsided, I continued. "She didn’t do just a step or two, she made it the length of the walking ramp." That was a twenty-foot section of floor with traction strips, enclosed on either side by arm rails. The leg wasn’t cosmetic by a long shot. It looked like something from the interior of an airplane wing merged together with the bottom half of a mannequin. It fit clear around her waist like a second pair of pants. Sarah grumbled about the bulk it would add to her waistline. On the right side of the "garment" there was a stump-size cup extending down to all the mechanical rods and hinges, to a shoe over a plastic foot on the bottom. They helped her into it, and they began to work with her on standing and moving. The knee and ankle would bend, but the way that the unit balanced from her hip would keep it all from collapsing. Since she couldn’t raise the leg much from her short stump, she had to raise her hip, rocking from side to side. It was tremendous exertion, and she was exhausted. But since it was cooler that afternoon, she had asked me to do the bicycle exhibition.

Billy came up to me as I took off the pink helmet. "I love those long ribbons," he teased.
I reached back to unfasten them and grinned evilly. "Would you like to wear them, Billy?"

He backpedaled, holding his hand up, and pointed to his bald head. "Nothing to fasten it to, Julie."

"You’ve never heard of tape?" I chortled and moved toward him. He retreated even more rapidly.

About that time, the cab pulled up to take Kelly to the bus station. Kelly leaned down to hug Sarah and kiss her cheek. "It’s hard to believe we’ve known each other for only two weeks. You and Annie are practically my best friends. Write, okay? Let me know how this all turns out?"

I picked up her bag to carry it to the cab. When we got out of earshot from the others, she said, "Annie, Mark, what you guys are doing is so cool. I’ll pray for the best for both of you."

"And we’ll pray for you, kid," I said. "Some people see the scars, but I see the second most beautiful woman I know." She gasped, grinned, and kissed me on the lips. More thunderous applause from the porch. I blushed. "Did Sarah tell you? We’re not officially engaged or anything, and it probably won’t happen, but we want you in our wedding, okay?"

"Wouldn’t miss it for the world," she grinned. "You’ll make a beautiful bride. But what will Sarah Beth wear?"

Annie meets new friends and hustles a bike race. Sarah begins a tougher period in her recovery.

Chapter 4
Saturday June 28 and Sunday June 29

Saturday morning found Sarah sleeping late, recuperating from the stresses of her vigorous rehab session and her sixth round of chemo. So I dressed in green cut offs, a tee from a Lilith's Fair concert, and my favorite sandals. Sometimes I think the sandals would be the hardest thing to give up when I go back to being Mark. Maybe I'll buy a guy's pair.

Roberta, a tiny seven year old with a serious heart problem, and I played on the floor of the East Lounge, where most of the younger kids hang out, doing dolls and pretend games. She was giggling over all the funny voices I made for the dolls and stuffed beanbag animals spread on the carpet in front of us.

Roberta looked up at me with her big brown eyes. "Your nails are so pretty, Annie. Can I have big nails when I grow up?"

"When you grow up, I imagine you can do lots of things, Roberta." I sincerely hoped that I wasn't lying, that she would grow up.

"Would you paint my fingernails, Annie?"

"Well, I would love to, but I would have to know it's okay with your mommy." Roberta was so tiny that her fingernails were almost microscopic. "Isn't she coming this afternoon?" Her mother worked as a waitress at the pancake house. Roberta nodded. "I will probably be out this afternoon, but if she can leave me a note that it's okay, I can do it right after supper or else tomorrow afternoon. Toenails, too!" Roberta beamed at me and nodded.

I heard the front door open, and then a voice boom out behind me, "That's what I like to see, my oldest daughter acting her age!" It was Mr. Holding. Mrs. H shushed him. I turned and hugged them, and pecked them on their cheeks, greeting them as mom and dad. Then I introduced them to Roberta.

Mrs. H bent down and chatted with the tiny girl, then we excused ourselves and went upstairs. Sarah was awake, but was still in her nightgown. She was delighted to see her parents after two weeks apart that the stood up, and hopped over to them to hug them. "Mom! Dad! I walked yesterday! I had to hold onto the rails and I rolled back and forth like a drunken sailor, but I walked!"

Mrs. Holding helped Sarah to the bathroom so she could clean up and get dressed. Mr. H told me how things were going on the home front, and how they had missed us both so much they had gotten up at six to come see us. "We've already swung by Westlands College," he said.

I touched my finger to my mouth. "Shhh." I whispered. "Somebody figured out this week that I wasn't Julie. We can trust her, and she's left for home anyway, but we do have to be careful. Where is Julie, the real one, I mean?"

"We were able to check in early at the motel and left her there. Didn't want too many Julies wandering around here. As soon as those two get together, we'll go pick her up and have lunch together. Since Sarah seems tired, we thought we'd spend the afternoon in the motel room, just visiting. You're welcome to come with us, or you can have some time off."

"A little time off sounds nice, thanks. I haven't had time to do any serious bicycling since we've been here, and I could meet you back here for supper afterward."

That was a plan. After Sarah came out of the bathroom, I slipped in and changed into the red silk blouse with black trim and the black skirt that had surprised me so when I unpacked it–they had decided on a Vietnamese restaurant.

The real Julie laughed out loud when she saw me at the motel, hugged me, and said, "I knew something that sexy would bring out the girl in you!" She whipped out her camera and took a picture. "Don't worry, No one will know that it's you in the picture, and not me." It was a long, slow lunch, and we enjoyed talking, but I was also glad to get back to Hope Haven and change. I was wearing low heels, but I was glad to kick them off.

I went from silk to Spandex by changing into my Ocelots uniform. I started toward the door, then went back and clipped in the red and blue streamer ribbons. They looked silly, but it was kind of fun having them tug at my hair in the wind, and the kids at Hope House insisted that I should wear them as part of my bicycling uniform. I dragged the bike outdoors and walked it to the beginning of a long bike trail that followed the river, then crossed it and headed up into the foothills. It was a little warm, so I made sure my water bottle stayed full.

A little later, another rider in racing uniform passed me going the other direction. I sensed him turning around and looking back at me. The uniform was that of Blazing Saddles, a racing team here in the city. Soon, I heard the engaging of bicycle gears behind me and saw him approaching. I waved and smiled. I think I remembered seeing him at a race last Fall. He was bulky for a racer, perhaps the kind of guy who biked to lose weight. A beginner or a category 4, as I recalled. Easy target.

"Name's Eric," he asked '"Wanta race?"

"Name's Annie. How far?"

"There's a burger joint about three miles up into the hills from here, where the path crosses McGifford Drive. We'll stop there and you can buy me a Coke when I win."

"What if I win?"

"Unlikely," he grinned.

"If I win, you can wear these ribbons on the ride back."

His face clouded, then he smiled. "It'll never happen. Someone as pretty as you can't race that fast–and I have a better bike. Okay, it's a deal."

In my best Picard voice, I said, "Warp 7. On my mark. Engage!"

We were off. I was right. He wasn't very fast. He made chauvinist assumptions, too. Julie could have taken him, and perhaps Sarah, too, before this all started. I stayed a couple of yards behind him, listening to him breathe hard. I could hear my ribbons flapping in the breeze, too, along with the clicking of very fast wheels. I paced him as we crossed the bridge and began the slow rise into the hills. I lost a lot of yards on the bridge, because after he exited a family of walkers started on in my direction. I slowed down seriously to get past them safely, then began pumping. Still, I wasn't concerned. I could see him slowing. We were about two miles along the course, when I began an uphill sprint. "Over," I yelled, so he'd know I was passing. As I sailed past, I looked backward, grinned, reached behind my helmet and flapped my ribbons at him. Even then I wasn't going as fast as I could, yet I continued to increase the difference.

I pulled over into the restaurant parking lot and waited. Neither of us smelled too good at that point, but I felt great and he was gasping. "Come on in, You can buy me a coke now. Too pretty, huh?" I asked as I slipped off my helmet. We walked in, keeping the bikes next to a window where we could watch them. The air conditioning felt good.

We ordered soda and fries and I let him catch his breath. "Wow, you're good. Are you a pro?"

"Nah, not nearly. Maybe someday, though. For now, I just hustle sodas and fries from unsuspecting victims" I smiled. He continued with small talk about where he was from and what he was taking at the university. Since I'm inexperienced about such things, I suddenly realized he was hitting on me. He invited me to a supper and a movie.

"Sorry, Kevin. You're sweet, but I'm taken. I enjoyed the race, though." I had almost decided not to make him go through with wearing the ribbons. He asked me where I was staying. I told him that I was staying with someone at Hope Haven.

"Hope Haven! Isn't that full of cripples and sickies? Yuck! How can you stand it?" I just smiled at him, shook my head, reached back, and unclipped the ribbons.

"Please remember that you and I are only one skid on gravel next to a moving car away from being residents there ourselves. Sorry. I was going to let you off the hook with wearing the ribbons back, but that stupid remark made me change my mind, cutie."

It was fun to follow him back, watching Julie's team ribbons fluttering in the wind. I was lucky that his hair was long enough that I could pin them down securely. He kept his head very low, hoping nobody would see him. Of course, I'd encourage him, calling out "Looking good, dollface."

When we got back to the river path, we stopped. He let me unhook the ribbons, and apologized. He asked if we could meet again. "Sorry," I said. "I really am taken. And she's a real fox, too."

The next morning I went to church and Sunday dinner with the Holdings, wearing the great khaki dress that Julie would own next fall. When I told her the story about our encounter with Carrie, Julie said, "No wonder when I was home last weekend Carrie scowled and turned the other way when she saw me. Hey, Annie, you can represent me in cat fights anytime." I also offered to fix her up with Eric the beribboned bike racer, but she declined.

Sarah napped after lunch, and her folks left. I walked downstairs and went to see what little kids might be around. As I went around the corner, the door opened. It was 4 girls from Fort Russell! They had come to see Sarah. At least one of them knew that Julie was at basketball camp. So should I greet them and act like I was Julie, just here for the weekend? No, I don’t think so. They knew the real Julie well enough they would know the difference. I waited around the corner as they stopped to ask somebody where to find Sara. When they went up the stairs, I slipped out the front door. I spotted their car, so I would be able to tell when they left. I took out walking. Every now and then, I’d go back near Hope Haven, and see that their car was still there. I stopped at a woman’s clothing and accessories shop and browsed. Hmm. That hair band would match my maroon skirt. And there was a little chain with a maroon stone. Nice. I was lucky to have my purse with me, and so I brought them. By the time I got back, the car was gone. Sarah said it was an awkward visit, with all the girls trying not to look at her missing leg. But she enjoyed them being there anyway. She just wished that the girl who had been her best friend would have come, but she still couldn’t deal with Sarah’s situation.

That evening, Sarah and I had an appointment to play beauty parlor with a lovely young lady. She had her note from mommy. When I showed her my blue polish and Sara's red, I asked which she wanted. "Both," she grinned. "I want them to look like your bike ribbons." So red-blue-red-blue they were. Roberta also loved it that Sarah and I were wearing identical new earrings that we had purchased when we were out with her folks and Julie during the afternoon. Each one had a crossbar from which hung six or eight rows of inch-long strings of miniature beads in bright colors, so they rattled nicely when anyone touched them. And Roberta loved touching them, asking me to pick her up so she could make them rattle. Roberta didn’t have pierced ears, and we were sorry that those didn’t come in clip-ons, she loved them so.

Monday, June 30

Sarah spent a little more time walking today, but it makes her really tired. She’s also spending more PT time in the pool, because it builds up strength by offering resistance to her movement, and is low-impact on her remaining knee. I can’t go in the water with her, because I can’t figure out how to wear a bathing suit that wouldn’t give away secrets. Sarah had mentioned that to Mrs. Holding yesterday.

We sat down in the chemo waiting room, and found it nearly full. I was back in my bibs again, this time with a Hundred and One Dalmatians shirt underneath. I don’t know if they were short-staffed in that area, but things were moving slowly. A tall, striking young African-American woman, totally bald and not wearing a head covering, came in, looked around for an empty chair, and sat in the one next to us. We had noticed her a few times before, but had never made contact. As I was trying to read a Star Trek novel, I noticed that she kept glancing over at me.

"Pardon me," she finally asked in a mellow voice, "You look so familiar to me, and I can’t place you." She told us that she Amanda Perkins, and lived in the city there, so was here on an outpatient basis. We introduced ourselves and said we were from Fort Russell.

"Fort Russell? That’s it. Don’t you play on their women’s basketball team?"

It was time to fit into my Julie role. "Yes, that’s right. I just graduated. Didn’t we play against each other? What school did you play for?"

"University High, for three years, but only the first few games this season," she responded. "Then I got hit with a truck called Hodgkin’s Disease. I had the usual round of treatments through the winter, and I was getting better, but not quite better enough, so here I am again. But I remember you from last year. You beat us on your court, and we barely squeaked by on ours. You play guard with real attitude–I was impressed!" I wasn’t sure how much farther I could go with faking it, so I nodded lamely.

Sarah Beth chimed in. "Oh, yes! The University High game. You’d better remember that one, Julie. Central was still ahead with three minutes to go, you fouled out, and they lost in overtime. You were in such a foul mood that I just wanted to lock you in your room for a week."

"Oh, yeah," I grinned ruefully. "I was trying to repress that one. No matter how much they told me it wasn’t my fault, that I didn’t blow the game by fouling out, I wouldn’t believe them. So–it’s nice to meet you off the court, Amanda." We talked. She worked at a craft store part time. Her hopes for a basketball scholarship had been put on hold, at least temporarily. I told her of my plans to go to Westland, and that when she got the Hodgkin’s licked, I’d love to play with her rather than against her.

"I think it was your hair that made me remember you, in addition to your in-your-face playing," she told me. With all those tight curls, it looked like a blond afro. Excuse me, I hope you don’t mind a bald chick commenting on your hair, but is it naturally that curly?"

"No, it’s about as wavy as Sarah Beth’s," I said. "I’ve permed it for years, mostly because it’s easy to take care of for sports."

"I like it," she said. And Sarah Beth, your hair is gorgeous, too. I love it."

"To tell you the truth, Amanda," I said, "You look pretty great without yours. I admire you being brave enough to go wigless or scarfless. I don’t want to embarrass you, but do you always go like that?" Sarah Beth was looking on with intense interest.

"Not always. I wear a wig to work, and to church on Sundays. My dad’s a preacher here. But in between time, it’s mostly like this. My boy friend loves it, by the way, and says that I should keep it that way after the chemo stops. I tell him he’s crazy."

Sarah Beth cut in. "I’m glad to hear you talk about it. The doctors mention it, but they don’t really know about it from our end. I’m really afraid of losing my hair, and I’m glad to see someone else handling it so well. There aren’t any other teen girls at Hope Haven who have lost their hair, so it’s nice to have someone to talk to about it–besides Julie, I mean, and I haven’t talked much with her about it. It’s just not something I’m comfortable with, yet"

We had a really open, helpful talk about Amanda’s experiences. Amanda asked Sarah Beth how she thought her boyfriend might handle it. "Mark and I are really close," Sarah said, glancing at me, "and he isn’t going to get all bent out of shape about it. But he does really love my hair, and I think it will be tough on him, too." I tried not to look smug.

Amanda looked at me. "I think your sister will do just fine," she said. "It’s evident that she has a good support system, and that means a lot. And she’d look good with or without hair. Now I imagine that if it were you who were losing your hair, you’d probably be just like me–wouldn’t look back, and just go for it."

"What makes you say that?" I asked.

"Your basketball attitude shows through. You are your own person, and don’t care that much what other people say about how you look–not that you don’t look nice, I don’t mean that. But you are comfortable with yourself, and look the way you want. You like to look good, but you’re no fashion slave. You don’t mind making statements, those great nails and funky earrings show that-- and bald is a statement. Am I right?"

I smiled and had to admit she was. Funny, I remember Julie telling me that I could carry this whole thing off because I was comfortable with myself. I guess that I am. Speaking of the earrings, I told her about little Roberta and her fascination with them, and that we wished we could get some little-girl clip-ons that she might enjoy.

"Maybe I can help you with that. We have some jewelry kits at our craft store. Will you be here Wednesday afternoon?" We nodded. With that, Sara’s name was called and we waved goodbye. I had to remember to tell Julie about this conversation, just in case the two ever crossed paths.

Tuesday, July 1

A tough day. Sarah Beth had been working so hard in PT, that her stump was getting sore. They told her to not use the leg at all for a couple of days. A step backward (figuratively speaking). Yesterday’s chemo affected her more, and the nausea led to vomiting. This was the first time, and probably not the last. I helped clean the gross stuff up and took her clothes and bedding down to the laundry while the aides bathed her. She slept it off the rest of the afternoon, and all night. I could have left for awhile, but she was so miserable and uncomfortable, even in her sleep, that I didn’t have the heart to. About eight PM, she woke up crying, saying that her leg was hurting. She didn’t mean the stump, but her whole right leg. She had very little trouble with phantom pain since shortly after her surgery, but perhaps it had come back since the rest of her was miserable, too, and she didn’t have much resistance. "It’s unfair," she muttered. "How could something that isn’t there hurt so much?" I laid down next to her and cuddled, and we softly cried together. Strange, how for us the "in sickness and in health" is a reality years before we get married.

Wednesday, July 2

Sarah is still exhausted, but not quite as rotten feeling. Still no work with her prosthesis, but she had some time in the pool. We did not look forward to chemo today. I had found some plain mint green walking shorts, and a top that looked like rainbow sherbet. Sarah was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, because she was chilling.

Amanda came in. "Hi, kids, Aunt Amanda the craft lady is doing her thing. Here’s a box of all sorts of goodies, so that you can set up a cottage earring making industry." And there was–a boxful of jewelry pieces, earring backs, tools, wire, and beads. There were even pads to cushion Roberta’s ears from the pressure of the clips. "You can be as creative as all get out," Amanda explained. "The costume jewelry pieces are free, and you can give me back to tools when you’re done. I hope you two are crafty!"

I hadn’t done any jewelry making in my previous life, but it did give us something to do that evening. When I needed tweezers, my acrylic fingernails proved useful. Other times they got in the way, but I managed. The two pairs we created wouldn’t win any prizes at the craft fair, but with bright dangling little plastic bows, hoops, and beads, Roberta could rattle her head around to her heart’s content.

Sarah was still weak enough that the aides had to help her bathe. After she dressed for bed, she sighed and showed me her hairbrush. Quite a bit of ginger-colored hair was caught in its teeth. It was starting.

Chapter 5

Hormones, hair loss, and hooky

Thursday, July 3
Roberta giggled violently when we gave her the earrings. "They’re bee-YOOT-iful! I think!" When we promised to make her more, I couldn’t tell if she looked more happy or frightened. She modeled them graciously. Her mom thanked us for our special attention. Roberta was doing a little better, she thought, but they still had to monitor her closely. Last Spring’s surgery helped some, but didn’t solve the problem. Likely, she would be on a heart transplant list in another year or two.

Sarah’s stump was a bit better, so they worked on making her leg a better fit. Not much walking, but she was able to wear it part of the time the rest of the day. Some more casualties on the hair front. After I brushed her hair, I tied it back with the green ribbon, and tried to hide how much hair I pulled out of the brush. She has such thick hair, that maybe the chemo wouldn’t take it all.

With Sarah napping, I went to talk with Billy Yates about Sarah’s hair loss. "It’s getting about that time," he nodded. "Hard to tell how long this will last. Sometimes, with some people, with some medicine, it all comes out at once. With others, it takes several days. With others, it just thins out a lot, and gets kind of wispy looking. But I think it’s time I show you a few things." I followed Bill to a cabinet. "We keep a set of clippers in here. When it gets too thin, it’s easier just to cut the rest off. They usually decide they want it that way, rather than waiting for the inevitable. And in this closet, we keep–tada! Hair! These are wigs that people have donated. A lot of them are cheap and ugly, but since there aren’t that many girls here with cancer right now, Sarah could take her pick. Here’s one I like," he said, pulling out and putting on a big-hair, curly red one. Don’t you think I look like Reba?" he grinned. He modeled a few others, including one he called "Pulp Fiction." He flopped down on the couch wearing the short bob, and said in a sultry voice. "Mom won’t let me smoke. She says it causes cancer." I was laughing hysterically, and so were some of the other kids who had come in for Bill’s show. Billy looked at me. "What was kind of neat the last time I lost my hair was that a friend of mine shaved his off to keep me company. I’m not that uncomfortable being this way, but I thought that was kind of neat."

That evening, Sarah was able to eat a little bit. She told the aides that she thought she felt better, and could probably bathe alone tonight. I sat down to read my Star Trek book. After a long soaking, I heard her call softly, "Annie?" I answered through the door. "I think I need your help." We had agreed to be modest in getting dressed or undressed, just to help keep our hormone situation under control. So I walked into the bathroom and saw her naked, laying in the tub. I couldn’t help but catch my breath. She was beautiful. I told her so.

"My little problem with bilateral symmetry notwithstanding," she chuckled softly. "I’m sorry, Annie, but I need you to help me up. I’m weaker than I thought." I stooped to use a lift method I had learned, where she put her arms around my neck and I stood up. Only this time, she didn’t have any clothes on, and I was only in my underwear and nightgown. Raging hormones! I pressed her close to me, and began kissing passionately. For awhile she kissed back, and then pushed back. I was afraid she might topple backward into the tub, but I helped her regain her balance. Sarah looked frightened. "Please, Mark. Let me sit here on the toilet, and bring me a nightgown." Meekly, I did so. "Mark, you need to be Annie. Please be Annie for me, okay?" she pleaded. "I love you, and I want you just like you want me, but it’s just too risky in a whole lot of ways. I’m frightened to death we’ll be caught and you’ll be thrown out, and I’ll be all alone. I’m frightened for my own feelings. So please, be my Annie now, okay?"
I closed my eyes and silently nodded. I was frightened, too. She was way too vulnerable, and so was I. I had been so close to plunging ahead and making love to her, really, whether she wanted to or not. We cried a lot.

Friday, July 4, Saturday, July 5, Sunday, July 6

It’s a holiday. For Sarah and me, that meant chemo in the morning instead of the afternoon, no PT, and a quick check with the docs, who assured us that her last round of tests looked good. If she continued to check out so well, they said, the second round of chemo in late Fall would be much milder, it could be given back home, and could be her last. Great news!

Most of the kids, except for the more seriously ill ones, were leaving Hope Haven for the long weekend. We were no exception. Kevin had given me some instructions on ways to help Sarah in her rehab efforts while we were gone. We weren’t going home, though. Our two sets of parents had rented a double cabin in a state park up in the mountains. They had already picked up Julie. Although Sarah had hoped to go home, the long trip seemed strenuous, and we didn’t want to be that far away in case she felt worse. Also, we agreed that too many Julies wandering around Fort Russell might create some suspicion. Before we left Hope Haven, we told the rest of them about the hair loss. Sarah’s hair was still as thick as a normal person’s hair, but, frankly, she was shedding a bit more rapidly every time we brushed, and even some times when we didn’t. We stopped at a wig shop that the hospital social worker had recommended, but they said we should come back later, when Sarah had lost more hair, to make sure of a proper fit. We looked at a few styles, and left for the hills. Julie’s next basketball camp didn’t start until Tuesday, so she volunteered to stay over at a motel Sunday night and meet us at the wig shop late Monday morning, after therapy. Then we could have lunch together, Julie could hide away at the motel until after chemo, and I would run her back over to Westlands College.

The trip to the mountains was great. I wore Julie’s Banana Republic outfit that she had worn the day she proposed the Idea to me. I wondered if she’d remember. I did. It was cool enough when I got there, that I had to change into jeans, though. Since Sarah could spend time with her parents, my dad and I backpacked into a wilderness camp for Saturday night. It was great stress relief, and probably the only real big "Father-Daughter" event I will ever get to do with him. I was actually wearing some of my guy clothes that my folks had packed. My hairstyle and nails were all that would make others think I was a girl. On the trail, I could start acting like Mark again. That evening, as the freeze-dry supper was cooking, he did ask a bit nervously if I was looking forward to being Mark again. "Sure, dad," I smiled. "Don’ t worry. We’re more than half-way through my short life as Annie, and I’m sure as heck looking forward to being Mark.” Actually, in one way that was true, in another way, I was trying to reassure both him and myself. I was almost frighteningly comfortable being Annie. I continued. “I think it’s going to make me a better person having gone through all this. I know it’s just made me love Sarah Beth all the more."

Sarah slept a lot during the weekend at the cabin, but basically enjoyed herself. After the overnight, I noticed that her hair was a lot thinner. I remembered about the clippers that Billy had shown me, and figured that the day was coming soon. At a quiet time together in the mountains, I had told Sarah about my conversation with Billy about the clippers and the wig closet. I didn’t want to push her, but when she was ready, I wanted her to know that I was, too.

Before we left the campground, my two "moms" presented me with a present. It was a single-piece swimsuit, navy blue with white and red trim. It had a ruffled skirt that hid the bottom of the suit from view, and they had sewn some padding inside to help keep me from bulging in unseemly places.

"Very clever, ladies," I admitted. "But what about my face? If the makeup washes off, won’t that be a problem?"

"Well, you won’t really be able to swim, face-in-the-water and everything, but you’re there to help with the physical therapy. Just tell them you have sinus problems and can’t get your face wet. When you get back to the room, just hang it over the tub, and the padding will dry okay overnight."

Sunday night, July 6

After planting Julie at the motel, the rest of our families brought us back to Hope Haven in time for a light supper. Sarah Beth had been wearing a large scarf around her head, with a few wistful wisps of hair hanging out here and there. We went upstairs, and Sarah took off her scarf. You could see a lot of her scalp on top, and there were holes in the sides, as well.

"I guess it’s time for the clippers."

"Okay. I’ll go get them."

A few minutes later, I was back with them. Sarah sat down on a wooden chair, and tucked a towel around her shirt. I plugged in the clippers.

"Ready?"

"Yeah. Go for it." She gave a very weak smile, but tears trickled down her face.

I popped the switch, and slowly started working my way up the sides and back. It was amazing how little resistance there was. Then I mowed the few hairs left on top. She finally peeked in the bathroom mirror, and grimaced, then gave another brave little smile.

"No offense, Annie, but I don’t think I want you to be my regular hair stylist when this is all over. Actually, I’m glad it was you that did it. And it does look a little better. Sort of. Maybe." She tied the scarf back around her head. "I’m no Amanda," she smiled. "It’ll make trying on wigs tomorrow easier, anyway."

I thought Sarah would want to stay in the room that evening. It surprised me a little when she offered to go downstairs with me. She thought she might catch a little television in the living room. I rolled her to the elevator, and when we got out, Billy and some of the other kids and parents glanced over at us. I still had the clippers in my hand.

"Guess you know what we’ve been doing, huh?" she said, with a little smile.

I was about to put the clippers in the drawer, when suddenly I said, "Wait a minute. I have an idea. Billy, go get a sheet from the linen closet." He did. "Spread it out on the floor, over here by the wall." He did. I plopped a chair down on the sheet, sat down, plugged in the clippers, and said, "We’re going to have a party. I like my sister’s hair style so much that I want mine to look just like hers. I don’t want her to be the only gorgeous bald chick around here."

Sarah squealed "Annie, no!" Her eyes widened.

"I’m the older sister, and I’ll do what I want," I said smugly. "Billy, do you want to start?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess," he grinned. "Are you sure?"

"Go for it." Billy wasn’t going to give me a chance to change my mind. He started right down the middle. My blond curls started falling down in front of my face. I asked Sarah to even it up a little. She moved the clippers around on the crown of my head, leaving the curly sides.

"Now you look like the clown you are, you silly goose," Sarah laughed. "Maybe I should leave you that way." I pled for mercy and she finished the job. The sheet was covered with what used to be my curly hair. The gang laughed and hugged me, but there were no more volunteers for the clippers. Billy suggested that we three baldies model the wigs, and I was surprised when Sarah ripped off her scarf and agreed. This was the craziest moment since we had come to Hope Haven, with all three of us gasping in laughter, and being blondes, brunettes, and redheads. If they say that laughter heals, we could have all gone home that night. After a few minutes of it, though, I could tell that Sarah was exhausted, physically and emotionally. We went upstairs and giggled and cried some more.

After a few minutes, I started kissing the top of her head, and then licking it. "Annie!" she squealed. "Don’t do that. Don’t be like Amanda’s weird boy friend." Then she grinned. "But maybe another time, when there’s no one around." Finally, Sarah fell asleep. I had been in the habit of shaving before bed, just in case I had to go out into a dark hallway, no one would likely notice my whiskers. Tonight I did that, and I just kept going, clearing away the stubble the clippers had left behind all over my head. I wasn’t as shiny bald as Billy or Sarah, but it was good enough.

Monday, July 7

Back to the routine, except this time for the water therapy, I was able to join Sarah in the pool. Fortunately, the locker room was empty except for Sarah and me when we changed back into our street clothes–for me it was cutoffs and Julie’s basketball tee. We both wore scarves. Sarah’s wearing the prosthetic over the weekend had helped, and she made some progress in walking, both with the rails and with the walker. The man from the prosthetics lab said that she would be ready for her more cosmetically correct leg in another week, and said that she was doing very well in her rehab.

We left a few minutes early, I pulled Julie’s gray Honda around, and we drove to pick up Julie at the motel. She was in a ground floor room, so I was able to roll Sarah in, with little room to spare. Julie looked quizzically at our scarves, and completely dumbfounded when we went Tada! And whipped them off, revealing two bald heads.

"Wait a minute!" she said, after she recovered, looking at me. "After all that money I spent on your perm and dye job and this is how you repay me? You’re supposed to look like me, aren’t you?"

"Not any more. Everybody knows what I did by now, and I don’t have to look like what you did the last time they saw you."

"But what if I have to come back here with Sarah for follow-up or something, won’t they be surprised when they see me with a full head of hair?"

"I can take care of that problem," I grinned. "I know how to use the clippers now."

"Not on your life, buster!" Julie shouted, and then laughed. She had caught me by surprise so many times, that it was fun to do the same to her. "Oh, well," she finally said. "I was going to pay for your haircut back at the beauty shop when you get back home, and for them dye it back to your original color. I guess I won’t have to worry about it now." She did make a point to take a few pictures of both of us. I reminded her of her promise–no blackmail or embarrassment later.

We ate lunch at a soup and salad place, then went back to the wig shop. Although the wigs at Hope House were nice, we wanted something that Sarah could wear after she left. The owner was surprised to see two bald young women there instead of the one she expected. We found a wavy reddish-brown wig that somewhat approximated Sarah’s hair color, and Julie promised to add some red highlights to make it nearer her true ginger color before we went back to Fort Russell. I encouraged Sarah to try on a few other colors and styles while she was at it. It wasn’t the hysterically funny time that we had had the night before, but it was interesting to see her with a variety of styles and shades. Then Sarah made me try on some, saying that she might not always want to be seen in public with her crazy bald sister. We got another tight curly wig, this one dark brown, more like my natural color. The lady at the wig store gave us lots of instructions on taking care of our new hair–cleaning, styling, etc.–yet another life skill I would probably find little use for in later years. In the hours ahead, I discovered that wigs aren’t the most comfortable headgear in the world.

After lunch, we said goodbye to Julie at the motel and I took Sarah to chemo. I walked with Sarah to the sign-in desk. A new clerk was working today. We started to walk away after Sarah signed in. "Pardon me, miss," she called out after me. "Aren’t you going to sign in, too?" Sarah and I had left our wigs back at Hope Haven and just come over wearing scarves. When you go into the chemo area from the waiting room, you’re not supposed to have any head covering on, and it’s easier to stuff a scarf in a pocket than a full head of hair. So I guess it’s no wonder she thought I was a patient, too. As I looked around the room, I was the only person there under 20 who wasn’t a patient, and I did have a bald head under the scarf.

Amanda came in about then, and checked out Sarah’s and my new appearance. We took the scarves off, so our heads could glisten together. "How long did it take you to decide to do this, sister?" she asked me.

"Actually, about three seconds. I’m a bit impulsive," I admitted.

Tuesday, July 8

With Kevin’s help, I had been plotting today for over a week. I was up early, bathed, shaved, made up, and in my undies. I slipped on a sundress that Julie’s Aunt Claire had given her, one I’m sure that Julie had never worn. It was lavender with a subtle darker lavender leaf print beneath, and had fringes of lace along the high bodice and low back. I could see my skin through the holes in the lace. Very few teenagers would be caught dead in such a creation, unless they were in a 70s time warp–either 1870s or 1970s. But, they were forecasting a hot day, and I had promised to wear each item in my wardrobe at least once, even those from Aunt Claire. Of course, since this was a university town, I could get aware with wearing just about anything, without a second glance. Dress in place, I did my makeup, put on my brown curly wig, and wove a lavender ribbon through it, and even stuck in a dragonfly clip for good measure.

"Wow, aren’t you a little overdressed for physical therapy today?" Sarah asked me with a sleepy grin, as I stepped back into our living area.

I kissed her on the forehead. "Get up, sleepyhead. And wear something nice. We’re going to play hooky today."

"Hooky? Annie!" she said as she bolted upright. We have PT, remember? I need it. I’m starting to learn to walk again, and I need that work. We can’t just skip all that because you’re in a silly mood." I just smiled. She smiled back. "Silly outfit, too, Annie. Amanda was right. You do dress to please yourself. I was so hoping you’d get some fashion sense. Since I don’t have chemo today, maybe we can take a drive or something after PE. I don’t have to be back for medical tests until 3:30."

She had gotten up, and was hopping toward the bathroom, her right leg still standing in the corner by her bed. "You really are sweet, though," she added.

"Sarah, I wasn’t quite right when I said we should play hooky," I admitted.

"No, you were downright balmy." She leaned on a dresser by the bathroom door.

"Actually, we’re not playing hooky, but we are going out. Kevin has a full schedule today and his assistant isn’t coming in, so we agreed that I would work with you on both your walking and your socialization," I admitted. "You need to get away from Hope Haven and the hospital, and learn to get around in public. I know you’re self-conscious and shy, you were even before all this, and that’s okay. But you can’t just hide from everybody. When you’ve been out with our families, you’ve just used the wheelchair. That one night with Kelly was your only other trip out. Besides, it’s a great excuse for us to both relax and have some time together where you can’t smell medicine."

Sarah’s leg hadn’t been replaced with the cosmetic one yet, and had this strange bionic mechanical look. After her bath, she was strapping it on. Her wig still sat on the foam wig form. "With this bald head and crazy leg, do you know what I look like?" she asked.

"A beautiful bald woman with a leg that was built in a machine shop?" I asked back.

"Like the Borg queen," she said. As you’ve noticed, I’m a dedicated Trekkie, and I had taken her to the Star Trek movies and watched the videos with her a lot. The Borg Collective was a race without individuality, half human and half machine, led by a bald queen who was little more than head, shoulders, and machine.

"So assimilate me. Resistance is futile," I laughed as I kissed her.

She didn’t know whether to wear slacks, where the right leg would bag in too much, or a long dress, where part of the mechanical leg would be visible. She decided on the dress, since I was wearing one, too. When I told her we would spend a lot of time outdoors, I helped her put on a lot of sunscreen. Her treatments made her skin susceptible to burning.

I pulled the Honda out from the parking lot, and after she sat down, I stuffed the back seat and trunk with her wheelchair and walker. We drove to a pancake house and enjoyed breakfast. We drove slowly around the university campus, sightseeing and talking. We pulled into a park, and I wheeled Sarah over to a nice sunny picnic area.
"The sun feels great, doesn’t it?"

"Yeah. You’re right, Annie. It’s good to be outdoors, away from that place." After a few minutes, she asked: "What am I going to do about driving? Will they let me keep my license with just a left leg? It’s funny, I just now thought about that, I’ve been focusing so much on just walking again."

"I’m sure you’ll be able to drive," I said. "I don’t know if the state will require a car with hand controls, or if you can just reverse the positions of the gas and brake pedal. I’m sure Kevin could tell you." I tried to reach over to the gas pedal with my left foot, and it seemed really awkward.

I saw a tear trickle down her cheek. "Mark–you can be Mark now, if you don’t get too fresh, okay? I love you dearly and I know you love me, but I’m not sure that we’re right for each other anymore. Sometimes I wonder why you aren’t embarrassed to be around me all the time, I’m such a mess."

"Believe me, Sarah, a boy in a lavender and lace sundress doesn’t embarrass easily. No, you are the only girl I will ever want in my life. Without you, I’d just go off and be a monk somewhere."

"You can’t be a monk. You’re a Presbyterian," she chuckled. "But I’m going to hold you back. You’re athletic. You love your bicycle racing and mountain biking, and things like that. I can’t even go on slow bike rides with you anymore."

"Actually," I said, "I’ve researched that. You’re right, it’ll be slow, but you should be able to ride again. All of your work will be done with your left leg, of course, but according to some Internet sites I’ve seen, one-legged people can ride bikes. Or climb mountains. Or ski. My dad told me of a guy named Terry Fox, who had a leg just like yours, who jogged across Canada just to show the world he could. I don’t expect you to do any of that if you don’t want to. Your sister is enough of a jock for both of you. But you can do just about anything you want, if you set your mind to it. So there, Sarah Beth Holding. I’ll always love you."

Then I got down to PT business. So far, Sarah had only walked on smooth surfaces. I brought her the walker, and we worked together as she slowly made her way across the grass. There were a few near stumbles, but I was pleased with her efforts.
"I still can’t believe how nice it is to be out, and to have my own physical therapist, whom I happen to love, here with me!" she said. "Can we just stay here in the sun all day?"

"We wanted you to be out with people more, but we can at least spend the morning, I guess. We can plan more times away."

Sarah had a sleeveless top on, but wished she had dressed in shorts rather than a skirt. She had me pull out an old blanket from the trunk, so we could lay down in the sun. She made me promise to be Annie, though. There wasn’t much traffic in the park, but she didn’t think that we should do anything more than hold hands.

"I know you planned to eat in a restaurant, but let’s really eat out–pick up some stuff at the grocery store and have a picnic!" she exclaimed near noon. I agreed. So my plans for spending time on the campus and in the funky shopping area next to it were put on hold. We spent the whole morning in the park, except for a quick trip to the grocery store to pick up deli sandwiches, chips, and sodas for our picnic. We worked more on her walking, both on grass, on a wood chip trail, and on sidewalks, so she would have at least as much exercise as she would have in PT.

About 2:00, it was time to go back. She looked at me quizzically. "You haven’t had much sun this summer, have you?"

"No, not nearly as much as usual. Most of my time outdoors has been on my bike, and I’ve worn my uniform. So my face is tan, but not much else."

"That’s not true now," she grinned. Your shoulders, backs, and arms are burned. And with those holes in the lace around your bodice and back, you are going to have the most darling tan lines." She hooted in laughter. I looked down. I stretched out the lace. She was right. A dainty red-on-white lacework pattern spread across my chest and back.

Chapter 6

Stresses, inside and out

Wednesday, July 9

My favorite blue bibs, again, and a simple tee underneath. I have good legs, might as well show them off. PT went okay, but Sarah was so tired from yesterday that she didn't push the envelope. I enjoyed working with another patient, a high school soccer player rehabbing from major knee surgery. He seemed disappointed that I had a top on under my bibs. He'd of been really disappointed to know that the top was hiding what I didn't have, rather than what I have.

After PT, I took Sarah for a walk along the path that follows the river. Actually she was in her chair, but we took the walker along so she could get a few steps in here and there. She had a lap robe to cover the leg while she was in the chair. When I had her up walking, she got several glances, some rude stares, and a few smiles and "thumbs up" signs. She seemed to handle the attention okay. One time when Sarah was up walking, a mother and her four-year-old daughter came walking from the other direction. I was concerned the little girl would be frightened, and that would make Sarah feel bad, but she looked Sarah up and down, and said, "That's a silly leg." Her mother turned beet red and tried to shush her up.

Sarah just smiled, and said, "You're right. It is. But it helps me walk. And I'm going to get one next week that doesn't look this silly." Sarah assured the girl's mom that the girl hadn't embarrassed or bothered her.

We ate lunch at a Mexican restaurant. Well, I ate lunch. Sarah was still a bit off her feed, so she munched on a tortilla and drank some iced tea. The lunch helped stop my withdrawal symptoms from Mexican food to have a hot pepper fix. The food at Hope Haven isn't bad, but it's pretty bland.

We stopped in a funky used clothing store to pick up a going-away present for Billy Yates. He's at the end of this course of treatments. Sadly, he's not in remission yet, so he'll be back for another round in a few weeks. Billy likes ball caps when he's out in public, and has quite a collection. We found a few that we thought we might enjoy. Sarah brought me a bright red skirt decorated with a bandana pattern. I didn't know why, since I only could wear it twice at the most before it was time to go home. Although we were wearing our wigs today, we found a few nice scarves to wear on chemo days.

After we went back, Sarah wanted to rest and encouraged me to go ride. Instead of my Spandex, I put on a tank top above my sports bra. My dotted, lacy skin showed through, but that was the idea. Maybe more sun would even out my tan line. Yes, the red and blue ribbons fluttered from under my pink helmet, even though I had to wear my wig so I would have something to attach them to. It was a good ride, and I clocked a bunch of miles before I got back at supper. Sarah, Billy, Billy's mom and I all sat around the table and talked after the others had left. It was going to be sad to lose the other of our original friends at Hope Haven.

Thursday, July 10

Yesterday was great. Today was off the scale in the opposite direction. Kevin was disappointed in me that I didn't follow through on having Sarah out in public more. We promised to work on it. Sarah's leg was sore from yesterday, so she didn't make much progress in PT. The pool time was good, though, for both of us–except that the lace pattern sunburn showed up above my swimsuit completely on my back, and about an inch in front. Everybody thought that was hysterical, but me. How much more hysterical would they find it if they knew it was on a boy's hide? Chemo hit Sarah hard today. She was sick even before I got her back to our room, so more cleanup. She was unusually grouchy and sensitive, but I guess I can understand why. She spent the rest of the afternoon and evening in bed or in the bathroom. Billy left. Oh, yeah. Just for the official record. Today I'm wearing white walking shorts and a pale green dragonfly print blouse, accented by 2 dragonfly clips in my hair. Four hoops and one green stud in my ears. Oh, well. We’re half-way through. Just three more weeks and I won't have to worry about accessorizing.

Saturday, July 12

The red bandana skirt made its debut today, along with a simple white blouse, a bandana around my neck, and red headband in my wig, as Sarah and I prepared to go out for lunch with her mom and dad. I looked myself over in the mirror. "Do you know what gets to me sometimes?" I asked as I adjusted my skirt.

"No, what?" Sarah replied.

"I’m supposed to be your sister. I’m wearing this steady diet of skirts, dresses, jumpers, embroidered tops, cute, cute, cute, and do you know what I bet your real sister is wearing right now?"

"Right now, probably her cotton nightie because she likes to sleep in on Saturdays, but yes, she’ll be wearing jeans and a tee shirt." She smiled at me. "So you’re Annie, not Julie. You’re a bit more feminine in your style. Tell me. If you’re going to have to be Annie, anyway, don’t you like the way you look?"

I looked at the mirror again. "Yes, I guess you’re right. I just have to sound off every now and then. I kind of like it. Thanks again for buying me the skirt, by the way–but don’t expect me to wear it to school next fall."

"I won’t," she smiled. "But if you did, nobody would guess you were Mark, unless you told them. The other boys wouldn’t hit you, they’d hit on you."

The Holdings came early, because they wanted to take us over to Westland to spend time with Julie, too. We stopped on the way for an early lunch at a big western-theme restaurant that served chuck-wagon style dinners. "That's why I brought Annie that skirt," Sarah told her folks (and me–this was the first I knew about it). "You told me on the phone that we were coming here, and when I saw that skirt, I knew Annie would make a great-looking cowgirl. Too bad she doesn't have any boots, though."

Since the Holdings now had a handicap sticker, we were able to park next to the door. Sarah decided to walk in, so we left the wheelchair in the minivan. The nonsmoking area was a down a couple of steps–there was a ramp, but you had to walk a long ways. Sarah had worked a little bit on steps in PT, so she was willing to give it a try. She was almost down on the floor level again, when a waiter with a tray bumped me from behind. I stumbled and bumped Sarah. She lost her balance and fell, face-down.
"Are you okay?" We all shouted at once. Mr. Holding, I, and about three waiters all started to reach down to help her up. People from all over the area were watching us, concern on their faces.

"Please, get back. Give me some room," Sarah pleaded, as she started to roll over.

"Are you sure? We can help, sweetie," Mr. H said.

"Dad, everybody, please. I've fallen in PT several times, and other times they've gotten me down on the floor to practice getting up from a fall. Now let me do it, I need to do it myself," she said as she set her collapsed walker upright and pulled herself up on it.
The restaurant staff was apologizing profusely. "Please, just go away," Sarah said, now back on her feet and catching her breath. "You're embarrassing me. Let's just find our table. No, wait. My right leg isn't sitting quite right. Let's go to the bathroom, so I can readjust it." And we did, while Mr. H waited outside.. This was the kind of incident that earlier I was afraid would shatter my shy Sarah emotionally. Now I admired her grit more than ever.

"At least my leg didn't fall off," she chuckled as we talked about it. "That sometimes happens, they tell me. The extra belt around my waist keeps this one a little more secure. Now wouldn't that be embarrassing? 'Pardon me, would you pick up my right leg for me?'" she giggled. We went back to the table. Mr. H informed us that we were going to have top-of-the-line steaks instead of the BBQ sandwiches and beans that we'd planned, and the restaurant was paying for it. The Holdings said we could cancel the trip to Westland, but Sarah said it would be okay to go. She did agree to have us bring the wheelchair back for her, though.

Julie was wearing Saturday grubbies, faded jeans and a tee. She frowned a little when Mrs. H made some comment about which twin was the more nicely dressed. "You always did like Annie best," she tried to joke it off, but I could tell that the remark had hurt. Julie showed us around the gym facility where she worked, helping with the summer sports camps.

Back at the dorm, Sarah laid down on Julie's bed for a rest. Sarah and Julie's parents had left to gas up the minivan. Julie pulled out two tees, one tan, one mint green. They proclaimed 'Westland Woman Power' and had silhouette images of women participating in sports on them. "You can have one," she said. "Which one do you want?"

"I guess the green one. It'll go nicely with some shorts and a scarf I have back at Hope Haven. Thanks."

"I might have guessed you would pick the most feminine. I know we set you up a little by giving you more feminine clothes than you had anticipated, but sometimes I'm worried that you're into this a little too much–that we've created a Bride of Frankenstein monster."

I was hurt and a little angry. "Julie, you're right, you did set me up. I'm sorry about what your mom said earlier, and I know you’re sensitive about people not seeing you as feminine. Well, I'm kind of sensitive about being seen as super feminine all the time now. Yes, Annie has developed as a more feminine girl than either of us ever thought she would be–I would be–whatever. You have no idea how much I'd like to spend just an hour without the big blue nails, without the makeup, without the dress, and just be Mark again. It is so tough trying to live as something I'm not, always worried about being discovered, 24 hours a day. It's worth it, I'd do it over again, but it is tougher than you or I ever imagined."

Julie sighed. "Mark, please don't get me wrong. If you weren't doing this, I wouldn't be here, and I'll always be grateful to you. I feel guilty, too, because I'm not there with Sarah. And I know it's tough on you being someone else all the time. I've tried to imagine what it would be like if I had to pretend to be a guy like you're pretending to be a girl. I imagine it would be fun at first, but I don't think I could handle it–anyway, not like you're handling it."

"Thanks, Julie. This kind of situation stresses us all out a bit. And please, don't be jealous of my wardrobe. Just remember that in a few weeks it will be yours, and you can play cowgirl, too. Thanks for the shirt, by the way–or did I say that already?"
The Holdings came back, and wanted to hit the road. They weren't spending the whole weekend with us to save on motel costs, so they dropped us off at Hope Haven after supper.

Sunday, July 13

I had hoped to take Sarah to church today, as part of my efforts to get her out more. But between the busy day yesterday and the wearing effects of chemotherapy, she spent the morning in bed. I didn't feel like going by myself, so I went down and read the Sunday paper in the living room, and went back to help the weekend cook. I hadn't bothered to put my wig or scarf on, but I was wearing the Westland shirt that Julie gave me yesterday, white shorts, and short lime green socks. Since so many of the kids didn't spend weekends at Hope Haven, meals were light. They still took some careful planning because of the different dietary needs.

"It's kind of lonely around here without Billy," I remarked.

"Yes it is," Sarah said. "I like his mom, too. She has had so much to deal with through the years. Did you know her husband left several years ago? He couldn't take it. Chronic severe illnesses like that really take a toll. Oh–did you hear about Roberta?"

"No, what?" I asked. I had assumed that she was home for the weekend.

"She's back in intensive care. They're very concerned." I was shocked. Sarah and I had been working on another set of silly earrings for her, and we assumed that we'd be able to give them to her tonight. That poor kid. I wanted to go see her, but the cook said that they allowed immediate family only. I might want to go and spend some time in the ICU visitor's lounge with her mom, though. "We have some new kids scheduled to come in this afternoon, by the way. A little boy with a blood disease, and a teenage girl, 14, I think, with childhood leukemia."

Later that afternoon, the new girl and her mother did come in. Sarah was downstairs by then, and we had just commented on how we had gone from being the new kids at Hope Haven to being the old hands. We talked about ways that we could be helpful and friendly to the newcomers, like Kelly and Billy had been for us. Neither of us had any head covering on, and weren't even thinking about it, when the newcomers arrived. We went to greet them. The girl, Wendy, had long, dark hair. We introduced ourselves, and both mother and daughter looked stricken. The girl began to cry. We realized why. She was seeing us as her future, and she was right. We apologized, and went upstairs.

We were both stressed as we sat in our room. Sarah told me that she had heard parts of my conversation with Julie yesterday, and asked if I were sure that what we were doing was okay. "Yes," I said, then I burst out bawling. Sarah cried, too, and we hugged. I couldn't stop crying, and the male voice in the back of my head was scolding me for it.

"Sarah Beth, I keep worrying about what Julie said, about creating some kind of monster. Sometimes I worry that I won't be able to get Mark back when all this is done. What if this changes me into some kind of sissy or something? Would you still love and respect me? I mean, I don't think that will happen, but I worry about it."

"Poor, poor Annie," Sarah Beth said as she hugged me. "I know this is confusing to you, and hard for you. But it'll be okay. You'll get Mark back again, I'm sure."

A nurse's aide poked her head in the door to see if everything was all right.

"It's all right," Sarah smiled. "Annie's just worried that she hasn't heard from her boyfriend lately." Then she whispered to the aide, "A little PMS, too." I couldn't help but giggle, but then I cried some more. The aide left.

"You've given up so much to be here for me, Annie." She whispered to me "You can't be Mark just now, since the walls seem to have ears." Then louder she said, "You are the kindest, gentlest person I know, and you've been strong for me. I can be strong for you, too." I realized that as tough a time as I was having being someone else, that Sarah Beth was facing a whole life of not being who she used to be: the sweet, shy, happy girl who always blended in, who didn't worry about cancer coming back, whose body was lithe and graceful. Yes, we could keep on being strong for each other.

We talked a little longer. "Annie?" she asked. "Is there anybody else you could talk to about this? I'm glad to hear you out, don't get me wrong. But I'm concerned that you are dealing with some feelings you may not want to talk about to me, or even think about to yourself. It might help."

"Who?" I asked. "It would be a relief to talk with someone, but if we give away our secret, we'll all be in trouble, and I can't stay with you any longer."

"Maybe a counselor, or a minister," Sarah thought. "They're supposed to keep things confidential, aren't they? Maybe Reverend McGrail at the Presbyterian Church here. She seems like the type who would listen without judging." I agreed to think it over. I really did need to be able to spill my guts to someone, and it was unfair to Sarah that I keep dumping on her.

Finally we made our way downstairs, hair in place, and tried to reassure Wendy and her mother.

Chapter 7

Annie, the junior assistant mother hen of Hope House, gets some counseling and a makeover

Monday, July 14
"What about this top and these shorts. Do they work together?" I asked Sarah this morning.
"Oh, Annie, no! Don’t you see that those two blues don’t work at all together? They don’t exactly clash, but they don’t look good, either. Why don’t you wear white shorts?" Sarah asked.
"I wore white shorts yesterday," I responded. When I lived as a boy, picking clothes was much easier. "And we didn’t get time over the weekend to wash the dark load with my jeans and jean shorts."
"I know! It’s cooler today. Try Miss Kansas!" I groaned. Miss Kansas was the nickname we gave to another contribution from Aunt Claire. It was a nicely cut knit dress, ankle-length, long sleeves, and high collar. But the problem was the pattern–on a blue background, the dress was covered with big, bright sunflowers.
"Not exactly the height of teen sophistication," I muttered as I took it off the hanger and slipped it on.
"Annie, youre not exactly a sophisticated teen, and that’s one of the things I love about you. That dress fits your comfortable, cozy personality to a tee," Sarah smiled.
"I’d rather be wearing a tee, and jeans, but I promised to wear everything once," I grudgingly agreed. "It’s a little awkward to work in PT like this, but it’ll be okay, I guess." Actually, it was very comfortable, and I had to agree that I looked nice in it. In Wichita, I would look even nicer.
Sarah and I took a side trip after PT. We went up to the ICU visiting room and saw Roberta’s mother. She hugged us both tightly.
"How is Roberta?" I asked.
"You know what they say? ‘As well as can be expected?’ Her condition is critical, but there’s a good chance that she will pull through. She has every other time. It’s just that"–her voice caught–every time she gets a little weaker. I’m not sure if this is good news or bad news, but the doctors said that they are putting her name on the heart transplant list now–she’ll be a long ways from the top of the list, but it will come sooner than we had thought. It’ll have to come, I’m afraid, or her little heart will just wear out."
It was really hard to think about that cute little girl needing to have her heart replaced if she was ever going to grow up to be a teenager. We talked a little longer, and gave Roberta’s mother the new set of earrings we had made.
"She just loves the others you made," she said, thanking us. "She was angry when they wouldn’t let her bring them with her over here. But I have an idea. I’ll check and see if I can hook them onto something in her room, where she can see them. Roberta would love that!" She hugged us again. She gave birth to Roberta when she was still a teenager, she had told us earlier, so she wasn’t that many years older than we were. That made her lonely at Hope House. She was too old to be "one of the kids," fitting in like me, and too young to be comfortable with some of the other parents. I’m glad we could be her friend. Before we left, I asked if she would let us know when it came time for Roberta to get a new heart, so we could be there for them. She smiled and said that she couldn’t promise anything, because when it happened it would happen quickly, but she would try.
On the way back, Sarah Beth looked at me quizzically. "Do you realize that you offered for us to come see her–Sarah and Annie? They don’t know you’re Mark."
"I hadn’t thought about that! Oh, well. We can sort that out later, I guess. Maybe Annie can be tied up at college, and Mark can bring you. Or something."
"Or something," Sarah said, shaking her head.
After chemo, I saw a note with my name on it on the bulletin board. Mrs. Burdugo, the administrator, wanted to see me. A sense of dread came over me, like with a summons to go the principal’s office. I took Sarah up to the room, and whispered, "She couldn’t have found out, could she?
Mrs. Burdugo is petite, always professionally dressed, and has a no-nonsense look about her. She would make a good school principal. She smiled when I knocked on her open door and stepped inside. Good sign.
"Annie, do come in! I love that dress, by the way. It really fits you. Practical, down-to-earth, warm, friendly, kind of old-fashioned, but in a very nice way." I smiled and thanked her. "I am never afraid to admit when I’m wrong," she said, "And I was wrong about you." Dangerous words, but her smile seemed genuine. I smiled back, still a little nervous. "I was strongly tempted not to admit you and Sarah Beth to Hope Haven. You are just the minimum age to be a healing partner, and I wasn’t sure that you could handle life here. I thought you might have become irresponsible and rowdy, or that you could have ended up as an emotional basket case, not being able to handle the situations that we face here. It was only because your sister seemed so vulnerable that we allowed it. Well, like I said, I was mistaken. You are mature, helpful, and a real asset, not to just your sister but to everybody here. That haircutting party was a bit over the top," she smiled, "but Billy Yates would vote for you for president right now because of it. You and Sarah have made such a difference for Billy and for Kelly Cassidy, too. She had always been a hard case, sullen and unresponsive, until you two adopted her."
"Oh, well. Maybe the time was just right." I made a mental note to try and call Kelly, just to see how she was getting along.
"Anyway, Annie, you seem to have become my unofficial morale officer around here. Keep up the good work," she invited. "We have a young man coming in tomorrow or Wednesday, by the way. He’s had surgery for a brain tumor, and isn’t in very good shape. Take him under your wing, would you?" Sure, I agreed.
Sarah let out a big sigh of relief when I came back up smiling, and told her what a sweet, friendly, helpful, old-fashioned girl I was. "I knew it all along," she grinned.
I lost a nail today, my second since I’ve been here. I’d hoped they would stay intact for the full six weeks. Oh, well.
Tuesday, July 14
It was rainy from the git-go today, scattered thundershowers with just plain showers in between. They run a shuttle from Hope Haven to the children’s hospital which we usually ignore. Today we just missed it. I was wearing jeans and the printed top I wanted to wear yesterday. So we went back to our room, parked our hair and put on scarves, stuffed a dry set of clothes in a small duffel, and I rolled her across the street through the downpour. I had wrapped plastic around Sarah’s leg and across her lap. We had also stuck our swim gear and a hair dryer in the bag (not for its conventional use, obviously–even Sarah’s brows and lashes were thinning out rather badly by this time). When we arrived at PT, we went swimming, so any dampness around the cushion part of Sarah’s prosthesis would have time to dry out. Then a change of clothes, followed by working together on some exercise equipment, still with her leg stashed in a corner. I helped Sarah onto the exercise bike, to show her she could cycle with one leg, as well as to work on her hip muscles. I had fashioned a velcro strap to help keep her foot on the pedal during the upswing. Later, I figured, we could try the same thing with the prosthesis.
We took a break about 10. Kevin sat down with us, and we sipped cokes.
"I have a question," she asked Kevin. "I have to use the walker all the time when I walk now. And it feels like I walk for miles every day, but I know that compared to what I used to do, I’m not walking far at all. Will I need the walker this fall, when I start back to high school? Or will I have to spend most of my time in the chair? What can I expect?"
Kevin explained to her that since she was young, strong, and most important, stubborn, she was doing quite well with her therapy. "Assuming you stay in good health, and don’t have any setbacks, you should be ready to walk when you go back to school. I would recommend that you use a cane, and you’ll be working with that before you leave here. But with all the jostling you receive, a cane will help you keep your balance, and preserve your strength. There will be some days when you’re tired or not feeling good that the walker will be your best friend, and other days you will need the chair."
"The walker? I was hoping nobody back home would see it. It makes me feel like a little old lady in a nursing home." Sarah said.
"Maybe we could jazz it up a little bit," I pondered. "We’ll talk to Mark about it. He may have some ideas to make that walker look downright trendy."
Kevin went on to explain that it would take Sarah anywhere from 6-18 months to achieve her full potential with the prosthesis. Sarah frowned a bit when he said that her gait would never be quite like it was before, but he quickly explained that it wouldn’t be nearly as noticeable as she thought it would.
Wednesday, July 15
Lost nail number three sometime during the night, and couldn’t find it in the bedding this morning. I’ve been painting the uncovered nails blue, but they are noticeable. I can’t say they stick out like a sore thumb, because they don’t stick out. It’s the other ones that do. Sarah Beth was really surprised. The acrylics are very long lasting. She wondered if Joan Kim attached them less tightly, to make it easier on me to remove them later.
Sarah Beth and I worked out together on some of the exercise machines in PT today. One of the things I haven’t mentioned is that in addition to learning how to walk in a new way, she’s also building up her arm and upper body strength, so when she uses crutches or the wheelchair, she’ll have more endurance. I told her that I needed to work out with her just to make sure that she wouldn’t end up being able to beat me at arm wrestling.
We had an official conference today with Kevin, Mrs. Burdugo, and Sarah’s oncologist–sort of a half-way mark evaluation. Everything looked good.
I called Reverend McGrail for an appointment. I’ll see her tomorrow.
The new kid came today. He was in the living room when we got back from chemo. His mother, a well-dressed lady, was with him.
"Hi, I’m Roger," he grinned as he greeted us.
"Hi, I’m Julie Holding, but everybody here calls me Annie, because my sister Sarah does. Nice to meet you, Roger." Sarah said hi too. Roger’s a big guy that you could tell used to be bigger. He uses a wheelchair–not because he’s paralyzed, he explained, but because the tumor that was just operated on destroyed the hearing in one ear, and totally messed up his balance. He was wearing expensive looking but well-worn cowboy boots, faded jeans, and a nice denim shirt. His head was shaved, and some still angry-looking scars traced a box on his skull, showing where they had operated. Brain cancer, I had heard. He was only fifteen.
"What’s your last name, Roger?" Sarah asked.
"Cameron."
"Where are you from, Roger Cameron," I asked.
"Cameron." I thought that his hearing problem had caused him to misunderstand my question, so I repeated it more clearly.
"No, I heard," he said. "I’m Roger Cameron and I’m from Cameron."
"Wow. The whole town’s named after you?" Sarah asked.
"No. It was named before me. But it was named after my great-great grandfather." Roger talked even more slowly and with more of a western drawl than I did in my Julie role, so it took awhile to converse. But you could tell that in spite of being a shy kid, he was really enjoying talking with (he thought) two teen girls who weren’t turned off by his condition. That’s one neat thing about Hope Haven. You have to learn to accept people as they are. His mother stayed in the background, but you could tell that she was happy that her son was finding new friends. He had just come over from inpatient status at the children’s hospital, and would be here for several weeks to go over for chemotherapy and physical therapy, a program similar to Sarah Beth’s. His chemo would be with heavier doses, though, since the surgery wasn’t completely successful. Parts of the cancer had wrapped itself around critical areas, so they couldn’t remove it all without destroying vital parts of his brain. The chemo, and later, radiation therapy, could slow or stop the cancer, at least for awhile, but the odds weren’t good. I was amazed at how open both he and his mother were about the seriousness of his situation. The kid was dying, he knew it, and he was dealing with it. I volunteered to help him in PT–I had some pretty good ideas about what Kevin would want to try to keep his muscles from atrophying.
Thursday, July 16
The prosthetics people were fussing around Sarah Beth today, making adjustments and measurements for the more realistic looking leg that would replace the mechanical looking one. Kevin and I spent time with Roger, working up some routines to work with him on. Roger was still so weak from his ordeal was passive exercises–us or machines moving his limbs for him. I asked if water therapy was a possibility. It was, Kevin explained, but they would have to be very careful to compensate for Roger’s lack of balance. With the proper flotation devices and an assistant on each side–one of the staff people on one side and me on the other–we could do it, starting next week. As the machine moved Roger’s arm, I sat by him and we talked. I didn’t know rich kids could be shy and sweet, but Roger was. A lot of kids thought he was stuck up, he told me, and he didn’t have many friends. He had wanted to ask a girl that he thought was real pretty to a dance last Fall, but he didn’t. A tear rolled down his cheek, and he said, "That was probably my last chance to ever go on a date, and I blew it. I’ve never even been kissed by a girl, except for mom, of course, and some obnoxious aunts."
I smiled and shook my head. "Roger, it would ruin my professional status as an official PT volunteer to plant a big smacker on a client. And besides I don’t kiss on first dates."
His eyes grew wide. "Oh, no! I wasn’t hinting or asking…I mean…I…I’m sorry."
I patted the shoulder of the arm that wasn’t being cranked up and down by the machine. "It’s okay, Roger. I knew you didn’t mean anything by it. I shouldn’t have teased you. I can see your circulation is all better, though. Your face is all red. You’re a sweet kid, Roger." We continued to talk. I told him about life in Fort Russell, adapting my own stories into a female context, and throwing in some of Julie’s basketball experiences. I told him about my boyfriend–to all the people we talked to, Sarah Beth and I both had boyfriends, and both of them were named Mark, but with different last names, of course. He told me that up until a few months ago, he spent all his spare time on the ranch, working hard in the outdoors and loving the wide open prairie.
After lunch, I changed into the blue floral print skirt and the blouse that went with it, one of the outfits that mom had brought for me the day after my big makeover. It was attractive but conservative, the kind of thing a girl would wear to go on a job interview, or to talk to a pastor. Sarah Beth was tired and feeling the effects of the chemo, so she stayed in the room and rested.
I wasn't sure what I was getting into when I drove to the Presbyterian church near the campus to talk with Rev. McGrail. In a way, I was glad she was a woman minister–it seemed a little less threatening somehow to tell a woman about my situation than telling a man. When I first introduced myself as Annie, she remembered that we had visited the church before with our parents. "Oh, yes. I remember how delighted I was that you all chose to worship with us–you looked like such a nice family. Then I was disappointed when the guest register showed you lived out of town. Now that I know you and your sister are at Hope Haven, I'll be glad to come by and visit."
It really got her attention when I swore her to secrecy–confidentiality, she called it–and told her I was not only Annie, I was Mark. She explained later that at first she thought I might have a multiple personality disorder, then gender dysphoria–being miserable and feeling out of place in the gender one's born into. I had the feeling that she could handle either situation without losing her cool, and soon began comfortable talking with this tiny woman with half-glasses and short gray hair. She mostly listened, which is what I mostly needed–just to have somebody to talk to.
When she did talk, she gave me a lot to think about. It helped me surface and be able to name a lot of feelings I had stirring around. Here are some comments I want to remember.
"The tension you live under must be terrific. You've talked about the tension of being discovered, the tension of having to misrepresent who you are and to lie to cover up who you are, when you are clearly not a dishonest person. Then there's the sexual tension of being Sarah's boyfriend while trying to be her sister."
"You are so utterly believable as Annie, in all the little things. I once knew a man who wanted to be a woman, and he even got to the point of living as one full time, but you are more believable than he was. I think it's because he wanted to be the sexy, glamorous woman that he fantasized about, and you're just a nice, ordinary, pleasant girl."
"You've come to like Annie quite a lot, haven't you? I know that you are doing all this for your love of Sarah, but I'd say that Annie has become another girl in your life."
"When you answer questions or supply information to others about Annie, you say that you answer for Julie when it comes to questions about your past, but you answer for Annie–with a little bit of Mark mixed in–when it comes to how you're feeling or what you want to do now. Interesting. In a way, you don't see yourself as being dishonest, because you are so deep into your Annie role that you really see yourself as her."
"I'm concerned about your transition back to Mark. I know that you want to live as Mark again, but I don't think that you can just switch Annie off like you'd turn off a light. I'm not suggesting that you wear dresses, or anything, but you've changed your whole emotional frame of reference, and you can't deny to your inner self that that has happened. I suspect that there's a lot about Annie that you would do well to accept and incorporate into Mark. No, I don't mean the obvious things, like wardrobe or feminine mannerisms–that could get you in a lot of trouble. But Annie has some wonderful qualities that I'm sure were there in Mark, but maybe not as near the surface."
We agreed to see each other again, and that it would help to have at least one three-way session, with Sarah Beth joining us. It was a big relief to me to have permission from an objective outsider that it was okay for me to like being Annie, that this wasn't somehow betraying or endangering Mark.
I got back in time to take Sarah on a walk before supper, so we could talk freely about what I'd discovered. Sarah looked back from her wheelchair at me, and said "I'm glad you like Annie, Mark. I never realized either how she'd take on this much of a life of her own. When we're back together at home as Mark and Sarah, I'll really be happy. But it makes me feel good to know that Annie will always be a part of you, too." I couldn't help but kiss her.
Friday, July 17
Every afternoon after we get back from chemo or our other afternoon schedules, I shave, and then put on new makeup for the rest of the day. My beard isn’t heavy, but it is dark enough I don’t want it to show through. The past few days, Sarah has come to the bathroom door, and watched me, smiling, as I strip down to my panties (no, I didn’t bring any guy’s underwear–too much of a security risk), clean off the old makeup, lather up, and start mowing down my whiskers.
"Watcha doing?" I asked, as she sat there.
"Standing guard–or sitting guard. And I like to watch you do that."
"Why?"
"Most of the time I need you to be Annie, because Annie keeps me safe and sane around here," she said in a very soft voice, so nobody walking by in the hallway could hear. "But I miss Mark, and now, if I ignore the blue panties and blue nails, it’s Mark I see. I love you, Mark." I went over and kissed her, smearing her face with shaving cream in the process. She kissed back, and didn’t pull away. "But please"–she whispered–"we’d better stay safe. It’s time to be Annie again."
Saturday July 18
Every Saturday morning, Sarah Beth and I make our way down to the laundry room and do our week’s worth of laundry. I’m getting to be quite the washerwoman. I tote, she sorts, I toss the stuff from machine to machine, she folds, and lately, I’ve been ironing. It’s easier for me to stand, so she’s taught me all the tricks. I’m pretty good at it, too. It’s all a new experience for me. Mom usually does all the laundry–Dad’s not a slouch with housework, don’t get me wrong–so I had a lot to learn. It’s a great time just to be together, to relax, and to talk. It’s funny how you can enjoy just doing the ordinary things together, like folding undies.
Julie came in as we were finishing, and helped us carry the stuff upstaris. She had gotgen a ride over this weekend, instead of parental units–one of them had to work Saturday. She had asked if she could take the car back to Westlands with her, because she needed it for some college functions. We met her at a mall and ate lunch together. Sarah and I both wore western-cut long denim skirts and white blouses. We wore our wigs. Julie promised us a special treat, and drove us to a full service beauty and nail shop (oh, no!). Since it was a short distance from the lot to the shop, Sarah walked, using her walker.
For Sarah, it was to be a facial, a wig styling and tinting, and a manicure. We didn’t want them to touch my makeup, since this time the operators didn’t know about my male identity. She signed me up for a replacement set of nails, a pedicure, and an eyebrow trim. (The wax job from my initial makeover had gone by the wayside, and Sarah had been plucking new hairs out to keep me presentable–a major ouch.)
The nail tech, a middle-aged blonde named Augusta (call me Gussie), began tinkering and puttering on my nails. I explained that I would need to remove them in two weeks because of a new job.
"If you’re only going to keep them for two weeks, do you want to play around with some longer ones?" Gussie asked with a bright smile. She pointed to her own multi-colored claws, at least half an inch longer than mine. I saw Julie grin.
"No!" I almost shouted. Then I smiled. "No, thank you. I’m doing volunteer work at the children’s hospital, and I was thinking I might go shorter this time." Gussie nodded.
"Ah, come on, Annie," Julie said. "It’s just for two more weeks. They’ve been your trademark this long. And they go so well with that fashion statement hairdo of yours." I gave in, and agreed to keep the nails at their previous length. Julie offered to pay for an airbrush job, so I could get a new look on them.
"Okay, but it has to be something in blue. That’s a trademark, too." We talked about it awhile, and came up with a terrific idea. Gussie started with a dark midnight blue near the base, and then blended in lighter shades, through royal blue and a light blue near my previous color, to a blue-white tip, almost a spectrum effect.
Julie was impressed. "When you take those off, Annie, keep them and lock them away in a little treasure chest to remember them by. They’re pieces of art." I hadn’t had a pedicure before, but it felt good to have Gussie work on my feet. She painted the toenails in solid colors, but kept the spectrum effect across my toes, working from midnight blue on my big toes to near white on the two outbounds.
Then I changed chairs for the eyebrow waxing. This I wasn’t looking forward to, but it would save the pain of daily plucking for awhile. She brushed on the wax, let it hardened, and yanked it off, on each brow. Ouch again.
"Oops," the operator mumbled. I did not like the sound of that.
"Oops?" I asked.
The operator stared at me intently, then smiled. "Not to worry. They look great. I know that you didn’t want any more taken out than you had previously, though, and the wax spread a little more than I thought it would. But I do think they look better, though."
I looked in the mirror. My once bushy brows, trimmed and shaped a month ago, were definitely more feminine–still not ultra-thin fashion model feminine, but they added a certain daintiness to my face that wouldn’t be welcome when I got my old body back in two weeks. But what could I do? Ask her to put them back in? So I just smiled graciously and agreed they looked very nice. When Sarah Beth saw me, she just raised her own eyebrow a bit. The beautician tinted my brows a little darker, so they were more near my natural color.
In the car, though, I angrily asked Julie. "Did you put her up to this with my eyebrows?" She had played enough tricks on me that I was suspicious.
"No, Annie. Really, I didn’t. It was an honest mistake. If you feel self-conscious about them when we get back home and get you back to manliness, I’ll show you how to fill them out with an eyebrow pencil." Then she grinned. "But since you’ve shaved your head, we could just shave off the eyebrows, too, and that would solve the problem." That might be better, I thought. It would look goofy, but not girlish.
"No!" Sarah shouted. "I like his eyebrows. And Annie–Mark–when you do go back to looking like Mark, you don’t have to keep your head shaved just for my sake. I’m not as gutsy as you or Amanda about my appearance, and when I get home among the kids I’ll have to go to school with, I plan on wearing my wig." She pointed at the freshly styled one on her head. The beautician had done a nice job of giving it a more teen-friendly, natural look. And the color was close enough to Sarah’s own, though not quite there, in my estimation. "And you being bald to be in solidarity with me is a wonderful, romantic gesture, but it will just call other kid’s attention to the fact that I’m bald underneath this. I like your hair, and I want to be able to run my fingers through it again. And besides–your senior pictures are coming up in less than two months. I don’t want people to think you’re a skinhead." Sarah Beth hath spoken. She was right, too. A bald head and girlish eyebrows wouldn’t look too great together on a guy. I don’t think that I’ll wear the five earrings for the photo shoot, either.
Julie dropped us off around the corner from Hope Haven and drove back to college.

Chapter 8

Annie Dates a Boy

Sunday July 19

Last night, I dreamed that I went home. I unpacked all my Annie clothes into a closet and dresser that just contained more Annie clothes. I went to the bathroom, looked in the mirror, admired my long hair, and pulled it back into a pony tail, tying it with a blue ribbon that matched my nails. I sat down to use the pot. There was no external plumbing between my legs. I adjusted my bra, and felt the weight of my own breasts move within it. When I left the bathroom, I noticed that my home was now the Holding house, and the banner in the living room said, "Welcome back, Sarah and Annie." Sarah was wearing shorts, showing off two real legs. Julie was there, too, but she seemed to belong to my parents now. It was as if all this were just an apprenticeship, and I had passed–I was now Annie for good. And in the dream, that seemed okay.

I figured all along that I would go to church with my parents today. That's just something our family does. And I was looking forward to seeing Rev. McGrail again–her first name's Barbara, by the way. Sarah woke up feeling better than usual, so she decided to go, as well. What surprised me was that the Camerons were going, too. I was just trying to be polite when I invited them during Saturday night supper. Of course, I introduced my parents to them as my aunt and uncle, since they might meet Sarah's parents another weekend.

Sarah and I rode with mom and dad.

"I really love that outfit on you, dear," mom said to me. It was the maroon skirt and white blouse with matching trim that she had brought for me in Fort Russell. Added to it was the maroon hair band and the thin gold chain with a tiny fake ruby in it that day when I had to hide from those visitors from home. My sandals looked fine, but it bothered me a little that I didn't have matching maroon shoes. Then it bothered me that it had bothered me.

"Thanks, mom," I said. "But I don't think I'll wear it to church once we get back to Fort Russell. Hope you don't mind."

The church was accessible and the parking close to the sanctuary, so Sarah Beth used her walker. This delighted us all, and especially Rev. McGrail, who remembered that the last time Sarah visited, she was using the wheelchair. We had hugs and introductions all around, as the Camerons had joined us by that time. The sanctuary had a short pew in back to allow space for wheelchairs. Roger insisted that I sit at the end of the pew, near him. His mom just smiled and sat in the pew in front of him. Sarah sat next to me in the pew, and that was a good feeling, too.

The Camerons treated us to dinner at one of those shiny chrome and glass diners near the campus–I ordered Mexican. I don’t know which I want most–to get back to being a guy again, or to get away from Hope Haven food.

"Aunt Fran?" Sarah asked my mom while we were eating. "I was glad she preached on Ruth and Naomi today. I always loved that story, and it means more to me now. 'Where you go, I will go,' the way those two stuck together? It sort of reminds me of me and my sis here."

My mom agreed. "One thing that I thought about during the sermon is that for some people, tough times drive them apart

Monday, July 20

All my days are strange, but some are stranger than others. After breakfast, Mrs. Cameron asked me for a favor–a strange favor. "Annie, I am going to ask you something that will sound very strange. You have all the freedom in the world to say no, but please listen what I have to say first." The last time I heard such a line I ended up living as a girl for six weeks. "Have you heard of these foundations that grant special wishes to children who are seriously ill, or dying?"

"Yes," I said. "The kids go to Disneyland, or meet a famous baseball player, that sort of thing?"

"Roger isn’t doing well, I’m afraid. The doctors don’t hold out much hope for a recovery. The chemo and radiation may stop it, but it isn’t likely to. He may have a year or a little more. And he has a wish. We would both like you to be a part of it."

What was she getting at? "Roger is a really nice kid, and I’d be glad to help him, if I could."

"Do you remember Roger saying how sad he was that he didn’t have enough nerve to ask that pretty girl back home to go on a date?" she asked, staring intently at me.

"Are you asking me to help arrange a date for Roger? I’m not exactly a social butterfly, but I guess I could help," I said.

"Actually, Roger and I would like you to go on a date with Roger. A dinner date, actually, a double date with father and me." My mouth dropped open at her suggestion.

"But, I’ve only known Roger for a few days. And I care for him deeply, but a date? I…I’m going steady with someone I love very much."

"Annie, Roger and I both know that you don’t have any romantic feelings toward him, but he has a real crush on you. Haven’t you seen the way that he always wants to be around you? He hangs on your every word. You’re kind to him without being patronizing or frightened of him, and that’s so important to him right now. You don’t have to even pretend to be romantically interested in him. Just go to a nice dinner with him. It’s what he wants more than anything else–just a nice evening out with a girl who is very special to him."

"A girl who cares for him as a friend, but doesn’t love him?" I asked.

"Yes. As I said, he knows that. You don’t have to love someone to go on a dinner date and have a nice time. I’m not even asking that you kiss him. Well, maybe a peck on the cheek would be nice, but that’s not what this is about." She was pleading. I felt very uncomfortable about this. I wanted to do it for Roger’s sake, but I was still a heterosexual guy myself under all this stuff. She went on. "If you do this, we will pick up all the expenses. I’ll buy you a lovely evening outfit and a wonderful makeover, and of course, you would get to keep everything we would buy for you." I frowned and fiddled with the collar of my pink Snoopy sweatshirt. Sarah and I both came from families that had a tough time making ends meet, and I felt definitely outclassed by the wealthy lady talking to me–not that she was trying to make me uncomfortable. And a new dinner gown and a makeover didn’t have that much appeal to me. "Oh, I’m sorry," she said. "I don’t mean to imply that we think you’d do this for what it would get you."

"No, of course not," I said. I’m sorry. Really, Mrs. Cameron. I do want to help. But I need to think it over, okay?"

"Certainly, dear. I know you won’t be here that much longer, so I was thinking that next Saturday would be a good time for the dinner date. If you decide to go, that is. And it would mean so much to all of us. But it is your decision." She patted my hand.

I told Sarah about Mrs. Cameron’s request as I pushed her to PT. "So, what do you want to do?" she asked.

"Which me do you mean?" I asked. "Annie, or Mark? I was honest when I told her that I felt uncomfortable dating anyone when I loved someone else. I couldn’t tell her that I was uncomfortable dating a boy because I was a boy."

Sarah and I had stopped so we could look at each other. "Annie," she said, "This is a decision for Annie to make, not Mark. And as the one you love, I give you permission. Go for it. It’ll be fun." I said I’d think about it.

We were about halfway through PT when a lady came in carrying a tiny baby. All the staff gathered around her, making adoring noises at the baby. I walked over out of curiosity. Kevin introduced us. "Pam Willets, Annie–I mean Julia–Holding here is a new volunteer. She’s a healing partner with her sister Sarah, and has been a great help to me with other patients, too. Annie, Pam is our assistant PT director. She’s away on maternity leave. Pam smiled at me, introduced my to Lori, her baby, and then looked puzzled. "Somehow, I think we’ve already met, haven’t we, Julie?"

Sarah had rolled over by that time. "Hi, Pam. I remember you from that family conference we had just before I left the hospital in May. You were a little larger then," she smiled. "Julie, you met Pam there. The whole family was there, with Pam representing PT, and my oncologist, and Mrs. Berdugo. That’s when they discussed Hope Haven with us."

"Oh, of course, now I remember. You were pregnant then. I was blond," I said framing my wig with both hands. (One of my survival skills–women use both hands in the air near their heads while talking about their hair.) "I guess we both look a little different." Pam smiled and let me hold the little girl.

"I still have the feeling I’ve seen you more recently," Pam said, when I handed little Lori back to her. "But don’t worry. It’ll come to me." I was glad Sarah had covered for me, but something about the situation made me nervous.

The rest of the day wasn’t easy. Sarah felt frustrated at her lack of progress in PT. The prosthetic people hadn’t come in yet with the new cosmetic parts to her leg. Chemotherapy made her sick and grumpy. And I agreed to go on a date with a guy.

Tuesday, July 21

This morning, as I was scraping my plate from breakfast, the cook called me. "I have Kelly Cassidy on the line. Would you like to talk with her?"

"Sure," I replied. "Can you transfer it over to the first floor phone booth?" She did. I ran to pick it up on the second ring. "Kelly, Hi. It’s good to hear your voice again. What’s up?"

"I had to call to change my appointment for my monthly checkup," she said, "and when I was done, I asked them to transfer the call over to the kitchen, to see if anyone I know was eating breakfast–like you. I see that you’re still there, and you’re still answering to Annie, so the forces of evil must not have caught up with you yet."

I laughed. "No one’s quite as perceptive as you, my friend, and we’ve learned to be even more careful. It’s really good to hear your voice again. Is everything okay?" We went on to play catch up. I told about Sarah’s progress, and about Roger Cameron and his mother. Finally, I told her about agreeing to go on a date with him.

"With Roger Cameron? Wow!" she said. "If the Cameron ranch isn’t the largest in the state, it’s at least second. Annie, these are people who hobnob with senators and representatives–not just in our capital, but in Washington, DC. They’re good people, but they are as rich and powerful as anybody in the state." Now I was starting to get nervous. I knew they were well off, but now I was going to go on a social function with the rich and famous. "Annie," Kelly said. "I have one piece of advice. Marry Roger! You’ll be rich and powerful."

"What?" I yelled. And then more softly, in case anyone walked by, "You’re forgetting a few things. I don’t love Roger, I love Sarah. He doesn’t love me, he just has a crush on me. The poor kid probably won’t live to marrying age, anyway. And last but not least, I’m a guy."

"I know that," she teased. "If Roger does survive, though, believe me it would be worthwhile to consider a sex change, if you can get him to marry you. You’d be the richest girl in the state, Sarah could be the richest girl’s sister, and Julie could be the richest girl’s other sister. You can do this, Annie…" By then she was laughing so hysterically that I got laughing, too.

"Kelly," I laughed. "I’ll give your ideas all the consideration that they deserve, believe me!" I was pleased to hear that she would be coming back to town for a medical evaluation before Sarah and I were scheduled to leave, so we would have a chance to see each other. After I hung up, I rushed upstairs to help Sarah get ready to go to PT. But now I started worrying. If the Camerons, nice as they were, were that rich and powerful, what would happen to me and my family if they found out that their son’s "dream date" was a guy?

Mrs. Cameron took Roger over to PT the same time I took Sarah. With the prosthetics people working with Sarah on attaching the cosmetic portions, the "skin," to her leg, and Kevin working with Roger, I sat with Mrs. Cameron and tried to talk her out of the idea. I just wasn’t the right type. My social graces were zilch. Surely there must be somebody else that Roger would like to go out with. "My dear Annie," Mrs. Cameron laughed. "Please don’t be frightened. Roger is so excited about this. I haven’t seen him so happy since he became ill. Don’t worry about social graces or money or anything like that. I was the daughter of a small town barber when I met Roger Senior in college, so we’re not as different as you think. Just enjoy this, and don’t worry about a thing. You are a jewel of a young lady. By the way–speaking of jewels, I hope that we can go shopping this afternoon. Saturday will be here before you know it, and we have things to do. I already asked Sarah if she would like to come–we’ll do dinner and everything. She said that if she felt okay, she’d love to. One of the hands from the ranch who is a friend of Roger’s will be arriving today, by the way, to help with Roger from time to time. So it’ll just be a lovely girl’s night out." Oh, my. What will that ranch hand do to me if he finds out that I’m not who everybody thinks I am?

By that time, though, the prosthetics guys finished their work, and Sarah called me over to show off her new limb. Actually, it was the old one with a covering, but it looked much better than I thought it might. The skin tone was close enough to Sarah’s own, and it did have a soft, skin-like texture. Sarah was delighted, and I was too.

Sarah had a brief meeting with her oncologist after lunch, but then the afternoon was free. She felt good enough to come, but the cumulative effects of the chemo made her feel weak enough that we agreed she should come in the wheelchair. We all agreed that from now on, stores that weren’t wheelchair accessible weren’t worth our attention. I had assumed we would buy something nice off the rack at a department store. Wrong. We went to an exclusive boutique in the affluent part of town. I admitted to everybody that I didn’t know much about high fashion, and was glad to let Sarah and Mrs. Cameron share opinions as the clerk held one gown after another up to my chest. Some were way too old in their style. Others would look great on a beautiful woman, but strange on a plain Jane (plain Mark?) like me. I was getting a bit bored by it all when Sarah called over from a row of hanging garments. "Wait! I think this is it!" Mrs. Cameron rushed over, agreed, and brought it to me. I did like the color and the fabric. It was a rich, elegant navy blue gown with a slightly flared skirt, high bodice, and low back. I went back to try it on. Since I really did think it was beautiful, I was disappointed that it didn’t fit well. Neither my padded waist or padded breasts were padded enough. That didn’t stop the clerk, Mrs. Cameron, or Sarah Beth. Since the dress looked great and its colors flattered me, my next stop was in the lingerie section, where they found undergarments with the appropriate padding built in. The clerk and Mrs. Cameron didn’t know that it was to be padding on top of padding, but Sarah came to the changing area with me and helped me make all the necessary adjustments. The gown didn’t have a price tag, but I had a hunch that Mrs. Cameron wasn’t worrying about that. She left it at the store for alterations. At one point in the dressing area, I whispered to Sarah. "She said I could keep the clothing. Will you be able to wear this, or will I have to give it to Julie?"

"I guess it depends on how much I grow," she whispered back. "But it’s lovely. If I take it up a few inches and I grow a few inches, I can wear it to Senior Prom. You’re a lucky girl, Annie. And maybe Kelly was right," she chuckled. I had told her earlier about the strange conversation. We left the dress there for alterations.

The wig shop was next. It was the same one we had visited earlier, except this time we were looking at much more expensive ones than we had seen before–all human hair. Mrs. Cameron said that we didn’t have to go with something they had in stock, that they could ship one in by air that would be exactly what I wanted. I was about to say that wasn’t necessary, then I remembered that if I got to keep it, Sarah could wear it. "If it isn’t too much, I would like one with hair the color of ginger snaps, thick and wavy, and a little longer than shoulder length." I could see Sarah grin as I described her former hair.

"No problem," the clerk said as she made notes. It will be here by Thursday. And if it isn’t right, we can ship in another by Saturday morning, in time for your trip to the beauty parlor." Again, Mrs. Cameron pulled out her plastic.

Next came the jewelry store. I was astonished when Mrs. Cameron started picking out jewelry for my evening. She wasn’t going for top-of-the-line, but the diamond earrings and necklaces she was examining were a long way from cheap, or even affordable by me. "Mrs. Cameron, I’m getting concerned about the cost of all this. I know that you said I would get to keep what you brought, but I just would feel way too guilty keeping any of this. The dress, wig, and undergarments I can understand keeping, because you wouldn’t have another use for them, but surely if we buy this jewelry, you can keep that."

"We’ll see, dear," she said with a smile. We agreed upon three small diamond studs for the upper holes in my ears, and a small dangling sweep of diamond-encrusted gold for the lower ones. She was looking at diamond necklaces to match when I saw the rings. I had another idea. "Mrs. Cameron, would it be all right to get something simpler for my neck, like a single string of pearls, and to get a small solitaire diamond ring like this? I could wear it on my little finger. And if it is possible, I would like to be able to keep it as a reminder of this time." Actually, I had someone else’s finger in mind for that ring. I was pleasantly surprised when she agreed. We had supper at a little French café and bakery. When Mrs. Cameron left to be with her son, Sarah looked at me again. "Maybe Kelly was right. You would make a good wife for Roger. And I could get used to living on a ranch." She was grinning wickedly.

"Nope," I said, in my best western accent. "Ah reckon ah have what ah want right here, ma’am, and when we get married, you’ll be the one in the white gown."

Wednesday, July 22

Sarah had a struggle getting through the day. She felt that she made no real progress in PT and wondered if it would be less embarrassing just to use a wheelchair when she went back to high school, and not even try to walk. "They’re just going to pity me either way," she muttered. "Do you really love me, Mark," she asked on the way back, "or do you just pity me?"

I got angry and defensive. "Would I be here dressed in a blue skirt and a frilly blouse if it was just out of pity? Get beyond the self-pity, kid. You can have a life if you want to, and you know it. Now I am risking total embarrassment here for you, so quit discounting my motives, okay?"

She looked up and backward from her wheelchair. She gave me a sly grin. "You mean you don’t like to dress this way? I thought yesterday you were just in this for the clothes. Sorry, love."

Chemo this afternoon was rough on her, too. We both miss Amanda. Her series ended last week. At least she could cheer up the waiting room for us. Wendy and her mom were there, but we don’t relate much. She and her mother pretty much stay to themselves. Wendy is a lot sicker than most of the kids at Hope Haven, and it looks like she might have to go back into the hospital full time.

When we got back from chemo, Sarah was feeling rotten, and just went to bed. I took one of my old Star Trek movie videos down to the living room and watched Kirk zap Klingons. Mrs. Berdugo walked through.

"How are things going, Annie? Your sister didn’t look too good today."

"Rough day for both of us, I’m afraid. Sometimes I think I can solve all of her problems just by being here for her and being her own personal cheerleader. It isn’t that simple, I guess. I can’t just zap the bad feelings and the depression and discouragement with a phaser and make them go away."

"No," she said, "I guess not. Even when she has rotten days, though, she knows that you’re here for her, and that you love her. She’s the age where she should just be worrying about getting her license or how a new hairdo might look, and instead she’s dealing with being crippled, and worrying if her life-threatening disease will come back. It’s no wonder she feels overwhelmed sometimes. For the most part, though, I know she has the spunk to make it. She knows she’s important to you and her family, and to her boyfriend, I guess. Are you sure he’s still there for her, by the way? I thought that even with him working full time that he’d be by at least on a weekend."

"Mark loves her more than you imagine. He won’t give up on her any more than I would," I answered. "Besides, they talk. Quite often."

Thursday, July 23

Sarah Beth felt a little better today, but she was still frustrated with her lack of progress in PT. She wanted to make the transition to using a cane instead of the walker, but she isn’t strong enough yet. She took a few falls trying. Thank heavens for the mat. I was wearing my bandana skirt again, hoping it would cheer her up.

Since we had the afternoon off, I took her over to the church, so we could talk with Rev. (Just call me Barbara) McGrail. Sarah Beth and Barbara were pretty comfortable together, and Sarah started telling about some of her feelings. It was pretty heavy, but I think it helped us all. One thing she encouraged us to do was that if someone discovered my secret identity, not to try to lie our way out of it–that would only get us into more trouble.

We ate dinner together with the Camerons at Hope Haven. Roger is so excited about Saturday! I’m dreading it for a lot of reasons, but I guess I’m stuck doing it. After supper, Sarah Beth was tired enough we went upstairs to our room. We played cards. She played cards. I flossed my teeth. Another exciting day at Hope Haven.

Friday, July 24

I’m back in my Tigger bibs today. I try to help Roger, and keep my eye on Sarah, as Kevin works with her. She’s back to the walker today. When I glance over, I notice that Kevin glances over at me. Around ten, it’s time for a break. "Grab a soda and come out to the courtyard with me, Annie," Kevin invited.

I got one and followed him. There’s a basketball hoop in the courtyard. Kevin picked up a ball. "Wanna play?" he asked. I hesitated. Everybody knew that Julie was a hoop hotshot.

"I usually don’t play when I have the long nails on, Kevin," I said.

"We’ll just play horse, then. Just relax, Annie. We won’t break a nail."

He shot from the left corner, even with the basket. It bounced off. He tossed me the ball. I shot. It missed the rim. We moved. He hit. I missed. He hit. I missed. We both missed. He hit. I hit. He hit. I hit. I missed. He didn’t gloat, he just kept looking at me. He got horse. I got ho. He asked me to go to his office, and for Sarah Beth to join us. I was surprised when Sarah moved toward us on her walker. I had planned to go get her in the wheelchair. It gave me more time to worry as she slowly made her way across the floor. Finally, we both sat down, across the desk from Kevin.

"You’re not Julie Holding, are you?" he asked me.

"Just because you beat me at horse, you think I’m not Julie?" I asked.

"No, there’s more. That just helped confirm it. Remember Pam? She remembered you. She asked if Julie Holding had another sister, maybe even a twin sister, because she saw your whole family at a restaurant. I knew that Julie and Sarah were the only kids in the family. Still, you could have been Julie, and the other girl a friend or a cousin. But it made me wonder. But since you’ve been such a good help here in PT, Annie, I really wanted you to be Julie. I wanted to help you with your education, and try to get you into studies to be a physical therapist. So yesterday I called Westlands College phys ed department. I wanted to see if we could work out a work-study plan between Westlands and the university here. When I called and told the basketball coach I wanted to talk with her about Julie Holding, she asked, ‘Do you want to talk with Julie? She’s in the building.’ So, Annie, you’re not Julie. Who are you?"

I stammered. I prayed for an earthquake, so the earth would swallow me. Or a tornado. What should I say? Barbara McGrail said I should tell the truth. But what would happen then. To me? To Sarah? I was surprised when Sarah spoke. Shy, quiet Sarah.

"She is Annie. He is Mark Andrew Jensen. She–he–is saving my life, if you don’t mind."

Kevin’s mouth fell open. He stared at me. "You’re a man? I had no idea! I thought you were maybe a cousin or a girl friend. This makes it even worse."

"I–I’m sorry," I squeaked.

"We’ll have to report this to Mrs. Verdugo and the Healing Partners director," Kevin said. "I’m shocked, angry, and disappointed in you, Mike, or whatever she said your name was. And you too, Sarah." He started to reach for the telephone.

"And I’m disappointed in you for not even trying to understand what’s going on here," Sarah shouted. I tried to shush her, but she wouldn’t stop. "Mark didn’t agree to do this to shack up with me. He isn’t a guy who puts on a dress to sneak into the girl’s dorm. His becoming Annie was my idea. My parents are behind it. His parents are behind it. We agreed that if he we did this, we wouldn’t have sex, and we haven’t. Do you think this is a game, a prank? Then you try getting your hair dyed and permed, your ears pierced, your eyebrows waxed, you try to live six weeks in fear of being ridiculed, laughed at, trying to be a believable girl just to help somebody else. It’s harder work than you’ve ever done, believe me."

"Sarah–Miss Holding–now let me–" Kevin was stammering now.

"My illness–this–this amputation–do you have any idea what that does to a family? They have so many thousands of dollars of bills because of me. If one of them came to stay here with me, we would have to sell our house to pay the bills, because either mom or dad would lose a job. So that left Julie. If she came, she would never get to college, and it would all be because of me. There’s no way I could come here if I didn’t get into that Hope Haven program. Then what would be left? I would have stayed home in my wheelchair, hoping my friends didn’t come by, hoping the cancer would come back and take me. Annie–Mark–saved my life. And if that doesn’t mean anything to you, I’m sorry."

Kevin looked at me. "Is she always like this?"

I shook my head. "She’s never like this. You just bring out the best in her."

"And Mark brings out the best in me–and so does Annie," Sarah said. "I love Mark, and we’re going to get married someday. I love Annie, too. Each step I’ve taken has been because of her. Okay, because of you, too, Kevin, and we appreciate that. But I don’t feel bad about what we’ve done. Go ahead and call Mrs. Berdugo and whoever. I’ll call my folks and have them come get us." She looked at me. "And Annie, I’ll explain it to the Camerons why you can’t go on that date with Roger."

Kevin frowned. "Sarah, you don’t understand. You don’t have to go home. We can arrange for a room and a private nurse to help you with PT and chemo. It’s just another week, but it’s a very important week for both your health and your rehabilitation."

"No, you don’t understand. Either I stay here with Annie, or I go home," my stubborn Sarah said.

Kevin shook his head. "I’ll have to think about this a little. I will let you know of my decision on what to do before I tell anybody else. Come by this afternoon after your chemo and we’ll talk." I suggested that he call Rev. McGrail, since she knew about our situation. He waved us away and plunked his chin down on his fists.

As I rolled Sarah back across the street, we were both stunned and silent. We found a quiet place on the Hope Haven porch where we could have some privacy. "You were really tough in there, Sarah Beth. I was proud of you, except I was so busy being scared spitless. But–did you mean that about going home if he turned us in?"

Sarah gulped. "Yes. I really meant it. I really mean it." We didn’t go in for lunch. We weren’t hungry. I didn’t know whether to pack or not. I didn’t want for Sarah not to complete her program, but I could understand why she wouldn’t want to be at the hospital by herself, without me, or her other friends from Hope Haven. She looked at me. "Mark, I can’t bear to think about how this is hurting you. What will happen if he reports us? Can we be arrested? Will it get in the news? It could ruin your life. Maybe it would be better if I had just stayed home. Honestly, Mark, don’t you wish you would have had enough sense to say no to this stupid idea?"

"Honestly, I’m unhappy that we’ve been caught, but I would do it all again," I said. "We are so close now, in so many ways. If this was the only way I could get to be with you, sure, I’m not sorry. In some ways it’s kind of fun being Annie, too. It’s something not many boys get to experience."

"How many would want to?" she asked. "But I’m glad you’ve enjoyed it. I’m afraid, though. What will happen now?"

"Kevin’s a decent guy. He might figure he has to turn us in for breaking the rules, but I’m sure he’ll try to keep it quiet. And even if it gets out, I can live with whatever comes. As long as I can be with you, anyway." I talked braver than I felt.

Chemotherapy is always the low point of the week. What’s fun about sitting around while people pump poison into patients? Today was worse than usual, because we were so anxious about what Kevin would do. Finally, we worked our way back to the physical therapy area.

Kevin waved us into his office. "I talked with Rev. McGrail, like you suggested. She was very persuasive, and recommended that I let you stay on in the program. But if I don’t report this and anybody discovers you and finds out that I knew about you, it could be my job." Sarah and I just sighed. We could see it coming. "But if I do report it, I have great concern for what will happen to you both–and I’m not just responding to your threat to leave without completing your treatment, Miss Holding. So I will hold my breath and pretend I never found out about this scheme of yours, Miss Holding, or your true identity, Mr. —Jensen?"

"Uh, it’s Jansen, sir. And thank you. For both of us. We really appreciate it."

"However, since you falsified information on your application form, Annie, Mark, I can’t keep you in the volunteer program, and my offers of assistance on seeking a career in physical therapy no longer apply." I wanted to protest, because I had my heart set on that as a career. But I didn’t.

Sarah spoke up. "Annie can still help with me, since she’s my healing partner, can’t she?" Kevin agreed. "And what about Roger? You know that he has a crush on Annie, and the only enthusiasm he shows for PT is when Annie helps him. Can’t Annie help Roger on an informal basis, as a friend, not as a volunteer?"

Kevin nodded. "I will inform Mrs. Cameron that Annie isn’t an official volunteer anymore. If she asks for Annie to help with Roger on an informal basis, that will be up to you, Roger, and her."

"Thank you," I said.

"Yes, thank you," Sarah said. "But do you mean that Mark can’t apply to your program when he finishes high school, that you won’t want him? That would be a big mistake. Mark is just as caring, just as smart, just as nice as Annie. He would make a wonderful physical therapist. And because of me, he has the motivation. You don’t have to answer now, but I hope you’ll reconsider."

"Sarah, I will have to think that one over. I didn’t mean that Mark can’t apply on his own merits when the time comes. I won’t hold this against him, but he won’t have an inside track like I was going to give Annie. Fair enough?"

I swallowed hard. "More than fair, sir. Thank you. That’s all I would expect." I took off the smock that female volunteers wear and handed it to him.

Saturday, July 25

I had worried so much about Kevin’s discovery the day before that I hadn’t thought much about today. Maybe that was just as well. Somehow, receiving another makeover didn’t thrill me as much as Mrs. Cameron assumed it would. It comforted me to know that my role model Julie, the eternal tomboy with a few feminine frills, probably wouldn’t be too excited about it, either. My mom came to spend the day with Sarah Beth, and the man from the ranch would stay with Roger. I made sure to shave extra close, then I put on base makeup. Sarah Beth thought that if I asked the beautician to let me wear my own base makeup because of a skin condition, I wouldn’t have to worry about her discovering my beard. I wore an extra large men’s white shirt to cover my larger padded breasts that I would need later so the gown would fit better, a denim skirt, and sandals. I rolled up the shirt sleeves past my elbows, and wore a clunky bracelet that Sarah loaned me, and I pinned a blue ribbon clip onto my wig.

Soon Mrs. Cameron had me in the Lincoln SUV driving to the dress shop. The seamstress had done her job well. It fit both beautifully and comfortably. She made a few notes for some quick little adjustments, and then we stopped at a tea room for lunch before the trip to the beauty parlor. Lunch was fun in a sad sort of way. Mrs. C told me stories about Roger when he was a little boy. They would have totally embarrassed him had he heard! It was sad to think that before too many months passed, memories would be all she had. One thing made me perk up my ears. She told me that their family had a charitable trust, the Cameron Foundation. They were changing the emphasis on it to be a scholarship fund for young people who had experienced catastrophic illnesses. She said that eventually the fund would become a memorial fund in Roger’s honor. She seriously hoped that when Sarah Beth was ready for college that she would apply for a Cameron scholarship, since it would cover all her expenses. That started my mind racing. Both of us had good GPAs. If I could get scholarship into the physical therapy program here at the university and Sarah Beth could get a full ride, too, maybe we could get married sooner than we had planned! That solitaire diamond ring that I had encouraged Mrs. Cameron to buy may find its way to Sarah Beth’s ring finger in a year instead of several years! Of course, I couldn’t tell Sarah Beth about this yet. This put me in a much better mood.

The beauty salon, not surprisingly, looked classy and expensive. Miss Fiona, the woman in charge, likewise looked classy and expensive. The beauty stations were well screened, so I didn’t feel too self conscious when she asked me to remove my wig. Then she brought in my new one that Mrs. C had ordered. It was a beauty! The thick, wavy reddish brown curls were almost a perfect match to Sarah Beth’s hair. The kids at school might not even know the difference. I beamed when they put it on me and adjusted it. Then Miss Fiona removed it, covered my naked cranium with a scarf, and said that they would put the wig back on later, after my facial and makeup. Facial? What did that mean?

"Miss Fiona," I whispered. "I just as soon wouldn’t have a facial. I have some complexion problems anyway, and I’d feel better if you just worked on the foundation makeup that I already have on."

"It’s okay, honey. Don’t be embarrassed around me. I see it all. Birthmarks, scars, whatever, they don’t bother me. And I’ll turn you so that Mrs. Cameron doesn’t see."

Maybe it was time for truth. Or partial truth, anyway. "It’s nothing like that. It’s a hormonal imbalance. I have facial hair. Mom teases me that it’s what I get for being an athletic girl, but the doctors say its just hormones, and I’ll grow out of it."

"Maybe we can wax it off?" she suggested.

"It’s really pretty widespread," I said, trying not to wince. "I prefer just covering it up."

"Sure, dear. But let me go ahead with the facial. Your problem will be our little secret." Fiona was persistent. Finally I agreed. She cleaned off my makeup and rubbed my beard against the grain. She frowned, but said, "Don’t worry, dear. It’ll be our little secret." Did she just mean my facial hair, or did she guess I was a boy? I was afraid to ask. Soon my face was covered with some sort of green goop that felt cool and pleasant, and my eyes had cucumber slices on them. I felt like a salad. It was comfortable, though. The tensions of the past few days seemed to slide away, and I was either asleep or very close to it. Miss Fiona had gone to help other customers. Finally, she came back and cleaned off the green stuff. My face felt nice, clean and relaxed. She applied more base makeup to me, covering up my telltale whiskers.

She called Mrs. C over for a consultation on colors and stuff. "Would you like to see her lashes a little longer?" Miss Fiona asked her. "I have some very nice sets that don’t look artificial at all." Mrs. Cameron agreed, and the beautician went back to get a little plastic box. She applied glue just above my lashes and glued another set on, both lower and upper. I could see the silly things. They partially blocked my vision, and did even more so when she applied mascara. She used a hand mirror to show me the results. She was right, they didn’t look fake, just long and pretty. Then I felt her apply something warm and thick to my eyebrows.

"Wait!" I cried. "I just had my brows waxed last weekend, and I don’t want them any smaller." The beautician explained to me that the last treatment had left one brow thicker than the other, and the thinner brow longer than the first. She just wanted to even them up. I was resigned to my fate. I didn’t bother to argue. A few minutes later, rip!–more brow hairs sacrificed to the beauty gods. Again, the look in the hand mirror. They did look better. For a girl. But my transition back to manhood just got a little harder. Fiona did a beautiful, subtle job with eye makeup, cheek color, and my lips. I had to admit that I had never looked prettier.

Of course, I looked even better with the wig on. Miss Fiona worked on the bulky mass of hair to bring into a dramatic upsweep, held up with jeweled clips, and with tendrils hanging down. She said, "Annie, dear, I’d like to call Betty, our nail tech, over. Your nails are lovely, but a little too flashy for a formal dinner. Would you mind it if we put new color on, something more subtle?"

I agreed, but said that I wanted to stick with my trademark blue, in some shade or the other. I ended up choosing a very pale shade, which Betty applied to fingers and toes as Fiona finished my party hair. Betty reshaped my nails, cutting them from blunt tips rounded at the ends to oval tips. It made them seem a little less huge, which was fine by me.

When Fiona finished with my hair, she let me get a good look at myself. I had always thought since my first makeover, I looked like a pleasant but plain girl–which pretty well describes Julie, who I was trying to impersonate. All I could say looking in the mirror was "wow." I still wouldn’t win a beauty contest, but I wouldn’t run for Miss Steak, either. In spite of my ordinary features, I looked classy and elegant, and I was still just wearing the man’s white shirt and simple skirt. I hugged Fiona. "Thank you, Fiona. I’ve never looked this good before. I love it." Mrs. Cameron smiled.

After Mrs. C charged the makeover expenses, we drove back to Hope Haven, and carried my clothes for the evening upstairs. Wendy and her mom were in the lobby. Wendy looked me over and whistled. When we got to the room, both mom and Sarah said "wow!" But after her first smile, Sarah looked a little concerned. "Your eyebrows–they waxed them again, didn’t they?" I knew what she was thinking, and she was right. I thought the same thing. They were going to be a big problem just a week from today. So I explained that Fiona was just evening them out, trying to stay in character. "I’m sorry, Annie, they look nice," Sarah said. "It’s just that eyebrow hair is delicate, and after too much waxing it might not grow back." I really wish she hadn’t said that. But then she smiled. "You really do look great, Sis, doesn’t she, Aunt Fran?"

Mom agreed, then pulled out her camera. I hammed for a few shots before I went to the bathroom to take off the skirt and shirt, and change into my hose, panties, and bra for the evening. When I came out, Mrs. C and mom helped slip the dress over my head so it wouldn’t mess up my hairdo. Dress in place, Mrs.C helped put on the diamond earrings, the solitaire ring, and the pearl necklace. I stepped into my heels, and was ready to go. Of course, mom was firing off pictures like crazy. Sarah called me over while Mrs. Cameron went out to tell her husband we were nearly ready.

"If it comes to a time that a kiss seems appropriate, just be Annie and don’t worry about Mark, okay? I won’t be jealous. Just have a great time." She handed me my purse. I kissed mom and Sarah on the cheek as we left.

When we went downstairs, Mr. Cameron stood behind Roger’s wheelchair. They both looked at Mrs. C and me and smiled. Mr. Cameron stepped over, took my hand, and kissed it. "Annie Holding, it is so nice to meet you. You have been such a blessing to both my wife and Roger. Thank you so much for going out with us this evening."

"Thank you," I smiled. "I’m just so glad to have the opportunity. I’m looking forward to a lovely evening." Both Roger and Mr. Cameron were dressed in expensive western cut formal dinner attire, with lizard skin boots. An expensive Stetson covered Roger’s bald, scarred head, and Mr. C held a matching one in his hand. After loading Roger into the Lincoln using the wheelchair lift, I sat in back with him as his parents rode in front.

"Roger," I said softly with a grin, "Wouldn’t you rather us go boogie somewhere where the kids hang out?" We had teased each other about that earlier.

"Maybe we can sneak out later, you suppose?" he grinned back. Actually, Roger’s condition was starting to deteriorate. I didn’t know whether it was the cancer coming back in his brain, or just the effects of the chemo and radiation, but he was weaker, more slouched, and talked less clearly. Still, though, he was alert and happy. "Thank you, Annie. I know this may be a bit stuffy for you, but it makes my parents happy to have this kind of dinner. And me, too, but just because of the company."

"I like the company, too, Roger, both you and your folks. And This isn’t stuffy for me, it’s a totally new experience. We aren’t in the country club set, you know. Just keep me from drinking the finger bowl, okay?" I held his hand. We pulled into the country club. Under the canopy, we parked and unloaded Roger. We were escorted to a private dining room with wood-paneled walls, candles on the tables, fine linen, silver service, the whole bit. The salads had fancy greens and blue cheese crumbles in the dressing, the soup was tasty and rich, and the steaks were big, thick, and cooked just right. Mr. C had carried them from his ranch in their corporate jet. I just relaxed and we all had a great time, with the Camerons telling me funny stories about Roger, and Roger telling me about his parents. I don’t know if the patrons in the regular dining hall heard us or not, but our laughter got pretty loud.

And yes, I kissed him, softly and gently, on the lips. He just swallowed and said, "Thank you, Annie. "I’ve had my dream date now."

"Roger, maybe we can sneak out and boogie later in the week, huh?" I suggested.

"Cool," he grinned.

Mrs. C came upstairs with me and helped me undress. I unfastened the diamond earrings from my lobes. "Would you take the jewelry tonight, Mrs. Cameron?" I asked. "I feel uncomfortable being responsible for something that expensive."

Mrs. Cameron shook her head. "Let me make this clear, Annie. I brought that jewelry for you, just like I brought the outfit and paid for the wig and makeover, because I like doing nice things for nice people. And you are among the nicest. When you go to college this fall, you will have formal dances, and you will look like the lovely young woman you are, and you will drive the boys crazy. You have helped make my son happy, and brought him some peace, no matter what happens down the road. In a way, I feel that you and Sarah Beth have become like daughters to me. I know you have become friends." She choked up. "As I said earlier, if things were different, I would love to have you as a daughter-in-law." I choked up, too. We hugged and she left. Mom finished helping me get undressed, and left for her motel room.

After I came back to the room from walking mom to the door, I took the scarf off Sarah Beth’s head, removed my elegantly styled wig from my head, and carefully placed it on hers. "This can be your hair now," I smiled. Carefully using my nails as pincers, I put the dangling diamond earrings into her ears. "You’re beautiful," I said softly, as a tear trickled down the side of her nose.

"Did you have fun?" Sarah Beth asked. I told her about the evening, described the food, and told some of the funny stories.

"Well, did you kiss him?" She asked. I just smiled. "I figured you would," she said, smugly. "And if he gets better and you want to marry him, I’ll just try to adjust."

"But I don’t want to be Mrs. Cameron’s daughter-in-law, Sarah Beth Holding. I want to be your husband. And I want to do some more kissing, right now." We kissed as long as we dared, but then we heard the hallway floor squeak and gave it up for the night.

Chapter 9

Beginning to get ready to go home and say goodbye to friends. More strange dreams.

Sunday, July 26

In the wee hours of the morning, I dreamed. It was a huge wedding in a cathedral. Everybody there looked rich. I was in a half-acre wedding gown, standing next to a healthy, grown-up Roger, who was grinning that silly grin of his. I could see my folks in the front pew, mom weeping and smiling. The Camerons were in the other front pew. Kelly was my maid of honor. The best man had a brush cut and a short beard, and used a cane. It was Sarah! Then the minister, Rev. McGrail, looked at me, and said, "Mark, are you sure you want to go through with this?" I was still shaking my head "no" when I woke up.

I was awake early. I slipped out of my nightgown and showered–the water felt good against my bare body. One thing I liked about the shower is that I could look down, turn my hands palm-up and pointed downwards, and see who I really was. Less than a week to go, I thought as I dried myself and pulled on my padded panties, bra, and pantyhose, and I could be me again. Yet, as I shaved and put on my foundation makeup, I wondered if I would ever be the old me again. So much had happened. So much had changed. Yet I didn't feel bad about it. I felt bad about disappointing Kevin, sure, and I was still nervous that I could be exposed publicly, but being here with Sarah was where I wanted to be. And yes, as I slipped on my blouse and the blue-flowered skirt that mom had brought me back in Fort Russell, being Annie was fun. And not just fun, but important. Would I ever get the chance to try on another person, to create somebody like Annie? Maybe I should try drama, I thought, as my blue nails manipulated the diamond studs into my ears. The drama kids at school seemed like kind of an in-group, but they did hold tryouts. Too bad that the drama coach would never know that I lived my starring role for six weeks. Well, maybe not too bad.

"Hi, sleepy," I smiled over at Sarah, who had just turned over in bed, scrunched up her face and squinted open her eyes. "Aunt Fran will be here in about forty five minutes to pick me up for church. Wanna come? I'll help you get ready."

"Morning, sweetie," she said. "Would it be okay if I just sleep in? Between the drugs and the workouts in PT, I really need the rest. I'm glad you're wearing that skirt, by the way–it's thoughtful to your mom. Be sure to say hi to Barbara for me." I made a mental note to do that, and to be sure to ask Rev. McGrail to drop by during the week so Sarah Beth and I could say goodbye to her privately. She had been a real help to both of us, both in her counseling and in talking with Kevin.

"Sure, kid," I said. "But how about lunch together? She wants to take us out."

She motioned for me to come closer, so she could talk softly, and not be overheard. "I had a wonderful time with your mom yesterday while you were gallivanting around with that cowboy, and you didn't have much time with her at all. So why don't you and her have some good mother-daughter time–mother-son time–whatever–and I'll do fine on my own.

"You're not unhappy about the Camerons taking so much of my time this weekend, are you?" I asked with concern.

"No, silly. What you did for them last night may have provided one of Roger's last really happy memories. I like the Camerons, too, you know. Really, I am just tired. I didn't want to spend 6 weeks without you, but a few hours by myself will be fine. I do love you, you know."

"Annie, or Mark?" I teased gently.

"Both, silly." She had leaned up far enough to give me a peck on the cheek.

"Quiet time it is, then," I said as I went back to finish my makeup. "And I love you, too. But do me a favor. We should be back by 2:30 at the latest. Wear something nice, put on your new hair and the dangly diamond earrings. I don't have anything particular in mind yet, but at least I want Aunt Fran to take some pictures of you looking terrific."

Sarah agreed. "But I'll never look as foxy as you did last night, girl," she teased.

"I could be wearing last night's outfit, makeup, and all, and you could sit there in old gym clothes, without your hair and without your leg, and you'd still be the prettiest one in the room," I said honestly.

"Don't forget your hair, by the way," my girl friend said.

"I wasn't forgetting it. I was just getting ready to put it on now." I reached for my old wig.

Mom came in about that time. We explained to her that Sarah was staying here, and that we'd meet her after lunch. Mom just smiled, and said, "Get your rest, Sarah." Mom let me drive. It felt pretty good to be behind the wheel again. Since my skirt was kind of long, I was glad mom brought the minivan and not my jeep, with its clutch. On the way, mom looked over at me and mentioned how nice I looked. "Sometimes when I'm with you I forget it's really Mark in there," she said. "I've known you as a boy for 17 years, but it just seems as natural as can be that you're my daughter now. Dad still feels awkward about it, but I'm really glad that I've gotten to know Annie."

"I'm glad to be Annie right now," I warned. "But don't be in for a letdown next week when it's just me again. Okay?" I wondered if I would experience a letdown, too.

"Okay," mom said. "Fair enough. I'll miss Annie, but I'll also be delighted to have Mark back." Church was fine. Rev. McGrail hugged us both at the door, and promised to come by during the week. One nice thing about a university town is that there are a lot of good places to eat. We found a small café that had sidewalk dining. Mom had a grilled chicken salad and I had a taco salad. Still suffering salsa withdrawal. The outside table gave us a little privacy, so I could tell mom about the incident with Kevin. I found myself almost crying, as I described his disappointment and Sarah's defense of me.

"I really would like to do what he does, mom. I've always wanted a job helping people, and my experience with Sarah and her illness has really helped me focus. I just hope that I didn't blow my chances on getting into the program. It's the only one in the state, you know. I have the grades for it."

"You've made a good choice," mom said. "It's a job that really fits who you are. My hunch is that Kevin will get past his anger and will let you in the program, and that maybe he'll even realize that your experiences as Annie will help you relate to clients better. And even if he doesn't, maybe you could go to school out-of-state." We talked about a bunch of other stuff, and had a great time. Sarah had been right that mom and I should have some private time together. At one point, she put on her concerned look and said, "I hope you don't have too many problems with re-entry. Taking off the blue nails and putting you back into jeans and tees is the easiest part."

"Yeah," I said. "There's my dainty eyebrows and the extra holes in my ears, too."

"Even more than that, though, is the fact that you've been living as Annie for so long, that the way you move your hands, the way you cock your head to the side and smile as you listen, all that's coming so natural that you might slip later." I quickly straightened my head, frowned, and balled my fists. "Your dad suggested that we go on a camping trip for a few days before you spend a lot of time in public as Mark. What do you think? You've always enjoyed camping, and you can get reacquainted with Gordo." Gordo was my name for my battered old mountain bike.

"That might be a good idea, mom," I said. "Sarah and Julie have both teased me that I've become more feminine than Julie ever was. "But I don't want to be gone too long. I'm afraid Sarah Beth will have a tough time transitioning, too, and she may need me. She's not real self-conscious around Hope Haven or the hospital, since there are a lot of other teens around who are sick or in rehab. She wants to go home, but I think it scares here a lot, too. So maybe just a single overnight at the Fort?" Mom agreed.

We went back, and Sarah was dressed, looking great, and ready to greet us. Mom, as I anticipated, pulled out her camera. As we left the building, the Camerons were all up, so we invited them to join us. Since there was a cool breeze blowing from off the mountains, we went out for a walk along the river path. Sarah rode in her wheelchair, but brought her four-pronged cane so she could practice some outdoor walking. She hadn't used the cane much before, so it gave her good practice. Everybody enjoyed ice cream at a shop along the way. After we got back, Sarah and I kissed mom goodbye. The Camerons remarked to her what wonderful nieces she had, and she agreed, smiling. Then mom left for Fort Russell.

Some more kids came in this afternoon. We got acquainted and tried to be friendly. It was funny, but we both held back a little bit. I guess it was because we had less than a week left at Hope Haven. Or maybe we were just tired. Try exhausted.

Monday, July 27.

I took Sarah Beth to therapy today. My top was striped, three shades of pink and white. I had on pink shorts to match, and Sarah Beth made sure to tie a large pink ribbon in the back of my wig. I didn’t think too much about it until I got to PT, then I felt self-conscious, because I knew that Kevin knew who I really was. Kevin must have felt the same way, because he worked hard to stay away from me. Kevin had said that he wouldn’t tell, but every time somebody looked at me, I wondered deep inside if they knew they were looking at a boy in pink. I worked with Sarah, as her Healing Partner, not as a PT volunteer. After awhile, I noticed that across the room Mrs. Cameron and Kevin were having a discussion. Neither looked happy. Finally, Mrs. C came over. "Annie, Mr. Carter said that you were no longer in the volunteer program. Roger was crushed. I don’t want to take time away from your sister. But, if we go into the pool later this morning for water therapy, could you work with Roger, just as a friend?"

"If it’s okay with Kevin, I’d love to, Mrs. Cameron," I said. And we did. After we changed into our swimsuits, Sarah, I, Mrs. C, and a PT aide all helped get Roger into the special flotation and safety equipment that he needed. It was neat that Sarah could help. The buoyancy of the water helped her do the job, and being able to help someone else did something for her morale, too. We all enjoyed the water, Roger and Sarah got good exercise, and we did a little splashing, too.

After PT, I helped Sarah back to Hope Haven for lunch. Then we went out to the river bank to enjoy the nice day. Again, Sarah covered most of the distance in her chair, but got up to walk around with her cane. She even walked half the distance back. We passed a little earring and accessory store, and Sarah insisted on going in. "I want to buy something for you," she said.

"But I won’t have much chance to wear it, remember?" I protested. She worked so hard to get up the step and into the store, that I gave up. Stubborn was Sarah’s middle name. What she had seen was a sweet pair of earrings with a tiny Tigger character dangling and waving from each.

"You’re going to wear your favorite outfit home Saturday–the Tigger romper. And these will look so cute with it."

"Yes, ma’am," I replied obediently. She also brought me a pair of tiny hoops, just big enough to circle between the lowest holes and the bottom of my ear lobes.

"Unisex," she said softly. "Mark can wear them."

"Yes, ma’am," I said again. "Mark and I both will enjoy them. Thanks, Sarah."

It was a good thing we enjoyed ourselves during that early afternoon break. Chemo affected her more–and quicker–than usual. After we got back to our room, she closed herself in the bathroom and hurled. After she cleaned up and came back out, she moaned "One thing about all this. I’ve barfed more than enough for one lifetime. I will never, never be tempted to become bulimic." We did what we usually do after a rough reaction to the chemotherapy. We sat next to each other on the bed, with my arm around her shoulders and her head on my chest until she felt comforted enough to lay down and sleep. "Thanks," she murmured. "These will be my worst memories of being here, but my best memories of Annie. You are so good to me."

I just smiled, kissed her on the forehead, and tucked her in. I told her that I might wander a little. When she was sleeping soundly, I went back over to Children’s Hospital. Roberta had been transferred out of cardiac care and was in a regular room. Roberta, her mom, and I all hugged. Roberta giggled when I told her about my date with Roger, and when she saw my new Tigger earrings. The little girl looked better, although her color was still a bit gray and pale. Her mom told me that they might go back to Hope Haven by the end of the week, so they could be close, just in case a heart would become available.

"Promise you’ll come see me when I get my new heart?" Roberta insisted.

"I wouldn’t miss it," I said truthfully. "And someday you’ll be all well and maybe we can play together, or ride bikes."

"I’ve never been able to ride a bike before. I’d love that!" She said. Sounds like Annie will be making some guest appearances.

Roberta had a roommate, a six year old with liver problems. I asked if they both liked stories, and pulled out a Winnie the Pooh book that I had borrowed from Hope Haven. I had them giggling so hard with my Tigger imitation that a nurse came and looked in the doorway.

After I left the hospital and checked on sleeping Sarah, I had time to get a little bike riding in after supper. I just had a scarf over my head and under my helmet, but I was sure to tape the long ribbons to the inside of my helmet for my Hope Haven fans. When I got back, Sarah Beth was still sleeping it off.

Tuesday, July 28

I started to put on the Westland tee that Julie had given me, but Sarah Beth reminded me of my promise to wear all the clothes at least once. We settled on a frilly white blouse with a flower pattern–another gift of Aunt Claire that Julie wouldn’t have been caught dead in. I couldn’t wear the green shorts with that, so I ended up with a gray pleated skirt. Of course, that meant panty hose, something I had usually been able to avoid, except for Sundays and other formal occasions. Flats, some dangle bracelets, a small butterfly pin on the blouse, and a white hair band in my wig set off the outfit. It bothered me that since Kevin found out my secret, I have ended up looking even more feminine than before. Mrs. Cameron commented on how nice I looked, as we ate breakfast together, and Roger agreed totally and wholeheartedly. He just kept smiling at me.

In the afternoon, Sarah had a lot of tests–as her healing partner, I kept her company. She had blood work, all kinds of scans, x-rays, all kinds of poking and prodding. Nobody said much of anything then, but her oncologist told her that things were still looking good, and they would have a full report for her parents and us on Friday afternoon–that report would determine the future course of treatment.

Before supper, I changed into a plaid skirt and a frilly blouse, pantyhose and flats, just because I hadn’t worn the skirt and blouse before, and I had promised to try everything once. And if I wore it to supper, I wouldn’t have to wear it all day later in the week. Everybody said I looked nice, and two people asked if I had gone to a parochial school. After supper, we watched a Disney video together with some of the younger kids, and then went upstairs.

"Just think," I said, after I changed into my nightie. "The six weeks is almost up. We get to go home Saturday morning!" I watched Sarah’s face closely, hoping to see enthusiasm. Instead I saw worry. "What’s wrong?" I asked. "You don’t want to go home?"

"Of course, I want to go home, Annie. And I want to get away from chemo. It makes me miserable. I want to be back with my family, and in my own room. But in a way I’m afraid to go home. Here, I’m just one of dozens, or hundreds, of sick kids. At home, I’ll be the bald, one-legged girl, the only one in town, as far as I know. I’m just not sure I can handle the stares. Or the pity. When you go back, you get to be yourself again. I’ve never been this self before–there, anyway. At school, I mean. I know that I was home for a few weeks before we came to Hope Haven, but I’m really scared of going back to school this fall." Tears were running down Sarah’s cheeks.

I sat down next to her and hugged her like I do when she has chemo blues. There wasn’t much I could say. Her fears were real. It would be tough going back to school. I just tried to reassure her the best I could. "I know it won’t be easy, Sarah Beth. Kids can be jerks sometimes. And sometimes when something makes them uncomfortable, they’ll say stupid things when they don’t mean to."

"Some kids will be afraid of me, too," she said flatly.

"Afraid?"

"Yeah. I’m a living reminder that normal kids can get sick and have terrible things happen to them. I remember feeling really awkward after Betsy McCain broke her back in a car accident back in 6th grade. After she came back to school in a wheelchair, I was really uncomfortable around her. Part of it was not wanting to say something stupid. When I talked it over with mom, she helped me realize that part of it was just being afraid." She was talking slowly and quietly.

"That helped, didn’t it?" I asked. "You and Betsy get along okay. But do you know what? You are strong. Remember what I told that snotty kid back in the department store six weeks ago? I still believe it. You’re a winner, Sarah Beth. You’ll stay one. And I’ll be with you every step of the way."

We hugged awhile longer.

Wednesday, July 29

Today, dressed in my green shorts and sherbet top again, I went over to PT with Sarah Beth and the Camerons. I was surprised to see the prosthetics team there to do a final checkup on their work. After they watched Sarah walk, they asked her to remove her prosthetic leg. They measured her, and her leg, and then kept it to make adjustments. The rest of the morning, Kevin and an associate gave her a refresher course on using crutches, on getting up from the ground with only one leg, and a lot of other skills for her to use whenever she needed to. There might be times she couldn’t use her new leg, and she had to know how to get around without it. She agreed to leave the prosthesis there, and work with her crutches until after chemo this afternoon. So we started back to Hope Haven, with Sarah crutching and me pushing her empty wheelchair."

We had just walked out into the hot summer day when I heard a familiar voice behind us. "There you are! I was hoping to track down you beautiful ladies." We turned and saw Kelly Cassidy’s scarred but smiling face. Even though it was a hot day, Kelly was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved plaid shirt to cover some of her scars. We all hugged like crazy. "I just got off the bus a few minutes ago, and came looking for you. I have a checkup and evaluation this afternoon, to schedule my next round of plastic surgery. But I really wanted to see you and how you’re doing."

"Great," I said. "How long will you stay?"

"Mrs. Berdugo okayed me to spend the night at Hope Haven, and I catch the morning bus out tomorrow. You two are looking great! But your hair’s brown now, Annie. Is that the natural color? And those nails are fantastic. I like the new color and the new shape. And Sarah, you seem to be missing a spare part, but you look great, anyway." It was hard to believe how quiet and introverted Kelly was when we first met her.

We explained the drill about Sarah’s leg to her, and I showed her why my hair was now brown, and was no longer firmly attached to my head. Then she wanted to know about my date with Roger. I promised to show her some snapshots that my mom and Mrs. C had taken, and maybe even try on the dress for her. "But no matter what you say, I’m not marrying the dude," I insisted. Sarah sat down in the wheelchair for crossing the street to Hope Haven. Before we went in for lunch, we sat on a quiet part of the porch awhile to finish catching up on our lives.

"I see nobody’s figured out your little game of pretend, Annie," Kelly slyly grinned. "I’m really glad."

"Well, Kevin figured it out," I admitted, "Sort of accidentally, like you did. He found out that I wasn’t really Julie, and asked who I was. He figured I was a girl friend. Sarah told him. He was really upset, but he finally agreed to keep it a secret. I’m afraid it might have blown my chances to study physical therapy under him, though."

Sarah interrupted. "But Mark–Annie–he said that he wouldn’t hold it against you if you applied. We talked him into that, I thought."

"True, and my grades are good enough to get in, but I can’t really afford it without a lot of scholarship help, and just ‘not holding it against me’ won’t get me those dollars." I looked back to Kelly. "You know we’ve been planning forever to get married after we finished college. The Camerons may give Sarah Beth scholarship help from their foundation. I had hoped that if I could get a full-ride in PT, maybe we could get married before college, instead. Then you could be our bridesmaid that much earlier."

"Uh," Kelly began. "I wanted to talk to you about that, but I was kind of afraid to bring it up. It was really sweet of you to ask, but I’m kind of scared about doing that. Standing up in front of a lot of people I don’t know, looking like this, well, I’m afraid it would take attention away from the bride and everything. I’d love to come to your wedding, though, whenever it is. You have other friends who would be much prettier in a bridesmaid’s dress, don’t you?"

Sarah’s eyes met Kelly’s. "Most of my friends flaked out after I got cancer, Kelly. You and Annie were there for me and hung with me. You’re a very important person in my life now, and I want it to stay that way. If you’re uncomfortable being in front of a crowd, I’ll understand that, because I think I’ll feel uncomfortable swaying and limping down the aisle as the bride. But just stay open to the idea, will you?"

Kelly’s eyes, Sarah’s eyes, and mine all misted over as the two girls hugged. About then, Mrs. Cameron, the man from the ranch who had been helping Roger, and Roger all came back from PT. "Kelly! Here are some folks I want you to meet!" We had a great time at lunch together, all six of us. Sarah Beth and I didn’t connect with all the ranch talk, but it was fun seeing the others telling stories about people they knew. Kelly’s dad and mom had worked on the Camerons’ ranch before Kelly was born, so she had heard stories about it. After lunch, Kelly, Sarah, and I went up to our room. I had just enough time to put on the blue evening dress and the new wig, and to show Kelly the jewelry. She was duly impressed, even without seeing all the makeup and everything.

I quickly changed, this time into the bandanna skirt and white blouse. It sometimes got chilly in the area where they give chemotherapy treatments. We walked back over together with Kelly, who went on to see her own doctor in the burn unit. About the time we went back from the waiting area, we saw the Cameron crew come out after Roger’s treatment. The children’s hospital really tries to be cheerful and children-friendly, and all the staff wears really informal, bright outfits. But Disney characters on the walls and on the staff’s scrubs, and really helpful, cheerful staff can only go so far. Chemo is still the pits, and I’m not even the one hooked up to the IV’s of poison. At least there was only one more bout of it left–for this round, at any rate. After chemo, we went back to PT so Sarah could get her leg back.

When we made our way back, we heard Kelly talking with Mrs. Cameron. Roger was already sleeping off his treatment. It was clear that Mrs. C was impressed with our friend. We joined in the conversation for a while, and listened to Kelly explain the next steps in her surgery. She seemed discouraged. "They finally admitted that my scarring is bad enough that even with more and more surgery they’ll reach a point of diminishing returns. They can only go so far, I guess, so I’d better get used to it."

Sarah Beth nodded. "When I started with my prosthetic leg here, I just knew that after a while I could walk perfectly. Nobody told me that, but I just assumed. Then after a few weeks of hard work, I got really discouraged. I figured that I would never be able to walk just like I used to. It was hard to accept, and I’m not sure I can completely accept it now."

Mrs. Cameron then talked about how tough it was on her as a mother to have her son in such a terrible condition. With all that, I was afraid to mention my fears that my eyebrows might not grow out like they used to be. Mrs. C wanted to go check on Roger. We all agreed to go get ice cream together after supper.

Sarah, Kelly, and I went back onto the porch. I was trying to figure out how to get the conversation going in a less discouraging mode, but Kelly took a new track herself. "You know," she said. "I might be your bridesmaid after all, if you two promise something for me."

"Sure, Kelly. What?" I asked, innocently.

"Let me give you a little background before I ask you to promise. I’m dating."

I was astonished, but tried not to show it. I immediately thought it would have to be either a special guy who would look beyond her scars, or a sleazebag trying to take advantage of her, figuring she’d have low self-esteem and be desperate for love. I wondered if Sarah was thinking the same thing. Kelly continued. "His name’s Dan. I’ve known him for years, because his family works on the same ranch. He joined the Navy a few months before the fire, and we’d been writing back and forth. The only times he was back on shore leave, I’d be here in treatment. He got to see me when I looked a lot worse than I do now and was full of pain meds and babbling and stuff, but he kept on writing. He’s served his hitch now, and he’s come back. He’s not pushing himself on me, but he has dropped some hints that we should think about a future together, and how many kids I’d like, and things like that."

"Oh, Kelly, that’s wonderful!" Sarah chirped. I nodded. It sounded like he might be the real thing. "So what do you want us to do?" Sarah asked.

"I would like you two to be my bridesmaids," she said.

"Uhh, aren’t you forgetting something?" I asked. "Wouldn’t it be better if I were a groomsman or an usher or something?"

Sarah looked at me and giggled. "You’d be a great bridesmaid, Annie."

"But…" I started. "You’re not just teasing, are you?"

Kelly looked right into my eyes. "No, I’m not teasing. I’ve only known you as Annie, not as Mark. You’re special to me the way you are right now. Nobody but you, Sarah, and I would know. When I saw you in the party dress earlier, and realized all that you had done for Roger Cameron, I knew you would have the guts to do it for me. I was afraid to ask you before that, but I would like Annie and Sarah Beth to stand up with me. I know it scares you, Annie, but it scares me to be up in front of people looking like this, too. If we get married, it won’t be a big, formal wedding. It’ll probably even be outdoors at the ranch. But no matter what, I would like you two–as Sarah Beth and Annie–to be there for me."

I looked over at Sarah. She looked at me and nodded. Ganged up on again. "Okay, Kelly. If you’ll be our bridesmaid, we’ll be your bridesmaids.

Sarah got up and hugged me. "Thanks, Annie!" she said. The strangest things .make that woman happy.

After supper, we joined the Cameron group to go on an ice cream expedition. There’s a great campus ice cream parlor that’s not wheelchair accessible inside, but it does have some sidewalk table. We were all able to climb in to the Camerons’ big Lincoln SUV. Roger’s attendant let us all out, went to find a parking place, and joined us later. I splurged on a double chocolate sundae, and the others got delightful looking goodies, as well.

As we were finishing the treat, Roger looked at me slyly. "Annie, is this our second date?"

"Sure, Roger," I said.

Then Kelly came in. "Roger! I thought you were dating me tonight!"

"I guess you’re dating three women at once, Roger," Sarah Beth chimed in.

Roger grinned. "I guess I can handle that."

Sarah Beth, Kelly, and I all went to the lady’s room before we left. I told them an idea. They agreed. When we came back, as the driver went to get the SUV, I excused myself to make a quick trip to the drug store up the street, to pick up a tube of the reddest lipstick I could find. Sarah and I had just worn a light frost on our lips, and Kelly didn’t have any lipstick on. So we all three reddened our lips, and kissed our date. Sarah left lip prints on his right cheek. Kelly put some on his left. I lifted his Stetson and planted a big one on his forehead. Roger was laughing and blushing so hard you could barely see the lip prints!

Thursday, July 30

I dreamed again last night–Sarah, on her crutches and wearing bright red lipstick, gave me, Annie, a long, delicious kiss. Then Kelly, wearing bright red lipstick, gave me another. Things blurred. I turned and looked in a mirror. I was on crutches, and had only one leg. I was covered with scars. I was trying to turn around to look at the girls again, but I stumbled on my crutches and fell. Then I woke up, bolted upright, the top of my yellow nightgown covered in sweat. After my breathing returned to normal, I got up and went in to wash. If I had finished turning around in my dream, would Sarah and Kelly have been healed? I hoped so, but I guess I would never know for sure.

I wore my yellow shorts and top today, and took Sarah over for physical therapy. I felt a little more comfortable in Kevin’s presence today, and again we enjoyed the water therapy with Sarah and Roger Cameron. We had to be back at Hope Haven at noon, because Rev. McGrail–Saint Barbara of the Holy McGrail–as I jokingly call her–had made arrangements to take us to lunch. I was a bit surprised when she took us to her house, rather than to a restaurant, but she wanted us to be comfortable in talking without worrying about anyone overhearing. We had delicious burritos, and we updated her on everything that had happened recently. She led us into discussing all the transitions we would be making–Sarah Beth back to her home environment and school, and me back to my masculine role. She assured us that we both had the inner strength to deal with whatever problems may come. We talked about our future plans, and our hopes of coming here for school.

"Please come here for school!" the minister insisted. "And please come to my church! You will both have a very good friend here waiting for you–me."

On our way back, she looked at us appraisingly, and said, "Annie–uh, Mark, you’ve been through a lot over the past few months, and I don’t think that anything is going to stop you from having a full, joyous life together. Mark, you went along with Sarah and Julie’s plan and have lived as Annie all this time. I imagine you’re looking forward to being Mark again."

"Yes, ma’am," I responded.

"You’ve received a very special gift," she told me. "You’ve experienced life from a totally different perspective. Now, you haven’t had a period or gotten pregnant, but other than that, you’ve really become Annie. Even if you never put on Annie’s clothes again, that experience will change you, for the better, I think. You will always have Annie with you, in the way you relate to other people, and in the way you love Sarah Beth and she loves you." She chuckled. "Sorry. End of sermon. Occupational hazard. But God bless you both."

After we got back, Sarah rested and I went down and played with some of the younger kids for a few minutes. I wondered if I could have related to them as easily if I had been Mark. I hoped that I would. When I saw that Sarah was still sleeping soundly, I kissed her cheek, changed into my bicycling gear, and taped the red and blue ribbons to the pink helmet one last time. I called Roberta’s room at the hospital and asked her mother if Roberta could get out of bed to look out the window. Her mom said she could, so I asked for her to watch for me on the street and sidewalk that they could see from her room. Then I went out, after inviting the younger kids to watch me as I showed off, then I went down the block and across the street, and did a few laps, jumps, and twirls, streamers trailing behind, and looking up and waving. After that, I went down to the river walk to get some exercise and to think through all that had happened, and how I had changed. Yes, most of the time I wanted to go back to being Mark. But like my friend the minister had said, I will always have Annie with me.

After I returned, Sarah was awake. I discussed an idea with her, she agreed, and so after supper I took her over to Roberta’s room. I had changed back into my regular clothes, but I put on the pink helmet and the ribbons for my trip over.

"Annie!" Roberta squealed in delight. "I saw you! I saw you! You were silly. Hi, Sarah."

We talked a bit. I told Sarah that we would be going home soon, but that we would come back when she got her new heart. "Remember what I said about you being able to ride a bike someday?" I asked. She nodded. "Well, I have a present for you. You can have this helmet and these ribbons." Sarah Beth unclipped the ribbons from my wig and fastened them to the tiny girl’s hair. I placed the helmet on, and it went down over her nose. "It doesn’t fit now, but someday it will. And all good bicycle riders know how important it is to wear a helmet. I have another one at home, but this one can be yours. Okay? And when you’re a big girl and can ride for miles and miles, you can remember silly old Annie."

She nodded and smiled. "Thank you, silly old Annie. I love you."

"I love you, too, Roberta."

Blue Nails Chapter 10 The Final Chapter

The Last Day at Hope Haven, and going home!

Friday, July 31

Once again, last night, I dreamed I was in front of the church. This time I was the groom, though! I was waiting in front of the church with the other members of the wedding party for Sarah Beth to come in on her father’s arm. I glanced out and saw Joan Kim, smiling. I tried to wave at her, and noticed that I still had on the acrylic blue nails, but they were even longer this time! And the best man and groomsmen had long acrylic nails, too, but different colors. Then I just stood there forever, waiting for Sarah. Was she back there? Was she even alive? I panicked at the thought, and woke up. As I lay there in bed, sweating, I figured that the nails were part of my dream because I’m having them removed tomorrow afternoon. My panic about Sarah must have been caused because of the conference this afternoon, where they give the results of the latest tests and give long-term projections.

When I put on my Minnie Mouse tee shirt and pink shorts this morning, I remembered that it was what I wore when I started this journal. Now I’m near the end. I had to promise Sarah Beth that I would change clothes at noon to look more presentable for the conference at 1:30. The Holdings are coming to be there, and to stay over so they can bring us home tomorrow! The longest six week of our lives is almost over. I can be a guy again. It’ll be nice in a way, and I’ll be looking forward to it in a way, but I’m not as deliriously excited about it as I would have thought.

After breakfast, we hugged Kelly goodbye. Mrs. Cameron was going to take her to the bus station. In PT, Kevin taught us some exercises and activities to help Sarah when we returned home. I would continue to work with her as her healing partner. The Holdings arrived in PT before we left. As I was ready to leave PT, I started to hug Kevin, then remembered how uncomfortable he was with my being a boy living as a girl. So I extended my hand. "Thanks, Kevin, for everything. I appreciate all your work and your understanding, too. You’ve given me a whole new way of seeing things, and maybe even a goal in my life."

Kevin smiled a tight little smile. "Annie, I’m glad to be there for both of you. But this isn’t goodbye. I’ll see you at the conference this afternoon."

The Holdings drove us out to lunch. Since Julie had taken her car back, we hadn’t gotten very far away from Hope Haven–except with the Camerons. As we ate our burgers, we had enough privacy to talk. Mr. Holding said, "I guess I’ll start having to call you Mark again, right?"

I smiled. "Yes sir. But maybe you should wait until tomorrow. If something slips this afternoon, we could put Sarah Beth’s conference in an uproar!"

"Right, uh…Annie. When you kids came up with the idea of you coming to be with Sarah, I didn’t know what to think. I wasn’t sure at all that it would work out, or that you could hold up under the pressure. But if you hadn’t, I don’t know what we would have done. We felt guilty that we couldn’t be there for Sarah Beth in this terrible time–"

"It’s okay, Daddy. I understand," Sarah said, as she reached for her father’s hand.

"But you pulled it off, and that’s what counts." His eyes teared up. "So…thanks. God bless you, kid. And I’ll try real hard not to call you Annie after tomorrow, okay?" We talked awhile longer, catching them up on some of the happenings lately, and how some of the kids have become such close friends.

Sarah Beth and I changed clothes after lunch as we had planned. The conference with the staff was in a large meeting room. We were all nervous as we found chairs. The oncologist, a chemo nurse, Mrs. Berdugo, and Kevin sat around the table with us. It was good news!. The scans and blood work showed no new signs of cancer, said the doctor. They recommended one more round of chemotherapy that would begin in mid-September, but this round wouldn’t be as strong, and she could receive it on an outpatient basis at a Fort Russell hospital.

"You’ll have hair by Christmas," the chemo nurse announced with a smile. "A crew cut, maybe, but that’s better than nothing, right?"

"Right," Sarah grinned.

Sarah had worked hard enough at physical therapy that she was ready to go to school again, Kevin explained. He told again how she might want to use a wheelchair for long-distance travel and quick trips between classes, but the more work she could give her leg, the better.

It was Mrs. Berdugo’s turn. "I’ll say in front of you what I said to them privately earlier. I had my doubts about two teenagers being healing partners. But they were both fine residents, and Annie has this marvelous way of being a healing partner to everybody she meets, not just Sarah." Then she looked at me. "Annie, I really hope that you will continue your education and enter a helping profession. You have so much to offer sick children, especially. Many other young people have trouble relating to those who have devastating illnesses, and make them feel uncomfortable. That’s not you, though. I wish that I could keep you." I wish that I could stop blushing.

I was totally surprised when the doctor in charge said, "There are two other members of the healing team we haven’t heard from. Annie, you are Sarah Beth’s healing partner. What would you like to tell us about your experiences in that role, and what’s your evaluation of Sarah Beth?" If only I could say everything I felt!

I stammered a bit, but then got started. "I want to thank everybody for all those wonderful things I’ve been hearing. I keep thinking you’re talking about somebody else." Everybody chuckled. Sarah Beth’s eyes went wide and she held back a big giggle. That did have a double meaning, didn’t it? "I really wanted to do this for Sarah Beth, to be her healing partner, and it’s brought us so very close together. Yet in a lot of ways, I think she’s been more help to me than I have been to her. She’s helped me grow up a lot. She’s helped me see things in a new way." I noticed that the Holdings, Kevin, and Sarah Beth all seemed to be biting their lips. More double meanings. I’d better start acting like Julie again. "Well, anyway, I had planned to start college this summer, and I feel like I’ve been in college, because I’ve learned so much from everybody–about health, and cancer, and our bodies, and stress, and–and–courage. I’ve always thought I was the stronger sister, being an athlete and all. And I agreed to be her healing partner because I was afraid she couldn’t stand up under all those bad things that happened to her, that maybe I could give her some strength. But do you know what? She’s been stronger than me. I guess she’s needed to be. She’s had her moments, some crying, some blue days, some anger–and that’s good, the counselor tells us. But everyday whether she feels like it or not, she gets up, works hard at doing things that are so simple for all the rest of us, and works her butt off in therapy–Sorry, Kevin–and then goes to get her dose of poison in chemo–Sorry, ma’am" I said to the chemo nurse. Anyway, I’m astonished by her, I’m proud of her, and I love her more than I ever did. And I’m glad you all were on her team." I had to quit, because I was bawling. So was Sarah Beth.

The group seemed comfortable waiting for us to regain our composure. Then they asked if Sarah Beth had anything to say. "Not really," she gulped. "I never was comfortable being the center of attention. But you’ve all been so good to me. Just thanks, I guess." She took my hand and looked into my eyes. "And Annie, I love you more than ever, too."

We were all feeling upbeat at all the good news and affirmation. The meeting broke up. As I stepped into the hallway, Kevin pulled me aside. "Can Annie catch up with you all later?" he asked the Holdings. They nodded. Now what? We sat down in two sticky plastic chairs under the window at the end of the hall.

"Annie, I was really upset when I found out about your little fraud," he began. I cringed. "But in the past few days, I’ve heard time and again about how wonderful you were to other people here, and how much they’ll miss you. My wife’s best friend works in the cardiac care unit, and she and her husband were over for cards the other night. She asked if I knew the Holding girls. I said yes. She said how she appreciated the two of you visiting Roberta, and cheering her up. She told how Roberta’s mother said that you were such good friends to the both of them when they were still at Hope Haven. And Mrs. Berdugo keeps telling little stories of you being the "chief of morale" over there. And Mrs. Cameron told me that Annie kept Roger from just giving up. You really have this gift for relating to people who are sick or disabled, without patronizing them or pitying them. Do you work this well with people when you’re a guy?" he asked.

"Well, I guess in my Annie role I had fewer inhibitions in relating to people. But since the most important person in my life is disabled, I’m sure that my attitude would be the same, no matter what I was wearing." What was he getting at, I wondered as I spoke.

"Tell me again about your grades." I told him. "And what science courses you’ve taken." I did. "And I’m right in remembering that you would need a lot of financial aid to go to college." I agreed. "You have a great future in physical therapy–what did you say your real name was?"

"Mark."

"Mark, and the university here has the only solid program in that area in our state. Get your applications to school when you get back home, and write me. I’ll send you applications for work-scholarship, and you’ll have my endorsement."

I closed my eyes and gasped. We both stood. I started to reach my hands out, then dropped them. "Kevin, the Mark in me is holding back, but Annie really wants to hug you. Is that okay?" He smiled and nodded. We hugged.

When I caught up with the Holdings in the Hope Haven living room, they were visiting with the Camerons. They were ready to fly back to the ranch for a long weekend, so they were doing farewells.

I leaned over and kissed Roger’s cheek and took his hand. Sadly, one side of his face seemed to be drooping more. "Roger, I’ll never forget the dates we had. You’re a wonderful guy and I’m going to keep on praying that you will get well, and soon. If we come back to Hope Haven for a visit, can I come see you?" I knew I was setting myself up for another time as Annie, but it was worth it if I made that much difference to Roger’s morale.

He shook his head. "Nah, it’s okay. I’ll really miss you, Annie, but you don’t need to come see me again." I was a bit surprised, but I just hugged him again.

"Whatever you think best, Roger. But I’ll miss you, too." As I finished, I noticed Mrs. Cameron motioning me with her head. I slipped away from Roger, and followed her to the porch.

Mrs. Cameron was very controlled as she spoke, afraid that she might lose control if she let any emotion show. "Annie, what you did for Roger was priceless. He’s such a good boy, but he’s always felt so alone–poor little rich kid, and all that. Thank you for being his friend, and thank you for letting me play fairy godmother with you for the evening out. I will never forget you." She paused. "He isn’t responding well to the treatments, you know. The doctors are going to upgrade to the strongest protocol they can use, but they have little hope. Roger knows this. If there is no sign of turnaround in the next two weeks, we will just take him home and keep him as comfortable as we can until–just until. He is just so brave. He knows that he is going to deteriorate physically, and then mentally. The reason he didn’t accept your gracious offer to come see him again is that he wants you to remember him as he is now, not how he is likely to become over the next few months. When the time comes, though, I do want you–both you and Sarah, and your parents too, if they can–to come to Cameron for Roger’s funeral. Don’t worry about clothes–Roger loves you in that maroon skirt and blouse, and wants you to wear that. And we’ll give you enough advance warning to get ready, and send our company plane up to get you. Would you come? Please?"

By this time, my tears were flowing. "Yes, of course, it would be our honor."

"Since we’re here, I’ll tell you now what I will tell Sarah in a few minutes. Our lawyers are working on the scholarship fund that I had mentioned earlier. Although it can’t be all my decision, which means I can’t promise anything, I do hope Sarah
will apply. She has the grace and potential to do great things, and I would like to help her achieve her educational goals. Oh, by the way. I encouraged your friend Kelly to apply as well. She didn’t finish high school after her accident, but if she gets her GED this year, she might join you here at the university–of course, she wants to be in ranch management. And we could always use people of her strength and determination at our place." She looked at her watch. "I’m sorry, but we must go. Thank you again for being here, and for being Annie."

I flinched a little. When she thanked me for being Annie, did that mean she knew I really wasn’t Annie? After all, she might have run a security check on me. Naah. Then I remembered that in a little over an hour, Sarah Beth and I had both seen our educational futures fall into place. Neither Kevin or Mrs. C could make promises, but it did look good! We walked in, and I said goodbye to other Hope Haven friends who would be leaving for the weekend and miss our departure tomorrow.

We went out for dinner with the Holdings. Sarah didn’t eat much, because she was still queasy from chemotherapy, but we still had a great evening–especially when I told them about Sarah’s scholarship possibility.

Saturday, August 1

Sarah and I get up early to finish our packing. As I dress, I realize that tomorrow I’ll be back in my basic Mark wardrobe–grungy jeans, tee, and battered Reeboks. Will that seem strange to me after six weeks of being Annie? But for today, I’m wearing my favorite Annie outfit–the Tigger romper, with a white tee underneath, and the Tigger earrings that Sarah had bought me.

"I knew you’d want to wear that today," Sarah said as she struggled to get her loose-fitting jeans up over her prosthetic leg. "And I’m glad."

"Yeah," I replied as I slipped on my sandals. "But you told me I had to, right? It’s what I would have worn anyway, though. It’s my favorite. It’s comfortable, casual, cute, and friendly. Just like Sarah Beth, I might add."

"And just like Annie, too," she smiled.

I hooked the Tigger earrings through the bottom holes and slipped small hoops through the others, slipped on a bracelet, and put on my ankle chain. I started to put the rest of the jewelry in the box to pack it, when I pulled out the small diamond solitaire that Mrs. Cameron had given me as a pinky ring. "Here," I said, carrying it to Sarah Beth. "Try it on."

"It’s too big for a pinky ring," she said, pulling it out of the box.

"Try it on your ring finger, left hand," I smiled.

"Are you trying to tell me something," she asked, looking concerned.

"Uh–not right now, I’m not," I responded. "I just wanted to see how it fits."

She slipped it on. "It’s a little bit loose, but it looks nice."

"The jewelers back home can adjust it," I said, as I took the ring back and put it into the box. "By the way. I want to take you on a drive tomorrow afternoon, out to the old fort. I need to give the old Jeep some exercise, and we’ve had a lot of good times there. I haven’t been there since that day Julie came up with the idea that I could take her place with you here at Hope Haven. Maybe we can watch the sun go down over the mountains together. Would ya come? Please?" I had thought about taking her to another place, to our favorite overlook, but that was the place where she broke her leg and this nightmare had begun. The old fort had all good memories for us.

"I don’t know," she mumbled. "I think I’m going to be pretty tired tomorrow. But you can come over to the house."

"Sarah Beth, you can sleep all day tomorrow until four in the afternoon, then you need to come with me to the fort. It’s an order."

"Yes, ma’am–sir–whatever," she saluted. Sarah paused. "Wait a minute–diamond ring? Romantic place? This isn’t–you’re not going to–are you?"

"Sarah Beth Holding, I would ask it right now, except I don’t want you to tell the grandkids and great grandkids at our fiftieth anniversary that when I asked you to marry me, I looked like your sister."

She looked stunned. "Even after all this I’ve put you through? Even with all the questions about my health? Even though you’re athletic and walking will never be easy for me? Are you sure?"

"Surer than ever," I replied. I put my hands on her shoulders. "We’ll have to play it by ear, of course. Best case scenario, we’ll both get full rides here at the university, and we can get married next summer. Worst case, we work our way through, and get married when we graduate from the university. But I really don’t want to wait that long."

By this time, we were both crying and hugging. First, our mascara ran. Next, our lipstick got smeared, big time. Finally, she said "We’d better get cleaned up and finish packing before mom and dad get here. But yes, I’ll go with you to the fort tomorrow. And yes, bring the ring with you." She gulped. "And I’ll wear it home. I love you so much, Mark."

The Holdings came and it took just a few minutes to load our stuff into the minivan. I set my bike on Julie’s bike rack on the back of the van. We had a quick round of hugs with those who were left at Hope Haven over the weekend. I helped Sarah into the minivan, although she’s getting pretty good at it. She climbed up, sat sideways, pivoted, and pulled her right leg across with her hands. I stepped across and sat next to her, so my right leg was touching her left. A couple of minutes later, we were pulling away from the medical complex that had been our home, and the university that would become our home later, after we finished our senior year of high school. We held hands as we rode. Now and then, I would stroke her left ring finger, and she would grin at me.

"I’ll bet that you’ll be glad to have Mark back, won’t you?" Mrs. Holding turned back from the forward passenger seat to ask.

"I sure will! I can just relax and be me, and wear grungy comfortable clothes again. Although the new me with a shaved head and earrings may take some getting used to. I was teasing Sarah Beth that I should get a leather jacket, a skull tattoo, big boots, and a Harley." The Holdings laughed. They knew how square and conventional I was.

"Your hair will grow out fast enough," Mrs. Holding said. "All teenagers experiment with different styles. But most boys don’t experiment with styles quite as much as you did this summer! You really were quite lovely in the evening gown." Sarah couldn’t resist telling them about Kelly’s request that we be bridesmaids. Mr. Holding just shook his head, but Sarah’s mother said, "I’ll be there with my camera, darlings."

Eventually the four-way conversation ended. Sarah reached over and took my hand. She spoke softly, so we could have a private talk. "I’ll miss Annie," she said. "I’ll miss her a lot. Won’t you miss her?"

"Yeah, in some ways I will. I’ve enjoyed being Annie, more than I ever thought I would. You want Mark back, though, don’t you?" I asked nervously.

"Of course I want Mark back. Mark’s my lover and boyfriend and almost my fiancé, but Annie’s my security blanket. Can I see Annie sometimes after we get back home? Just once in awhile? When I really need her?"

"Like St. Barbara told us, I’ll always have Annie inside of me."

"But I want to see Annie–just once in awhile, when I’m feeling really down or insecure. I’d miss her too much not to ever see her again."

Wow. I wanted to hear this, and I didn’t. "You want me to dress up for you? To look like this?" I waved my hand from my wig, down past my Tigger romper, down to my blue painted toenails peeking out of my sandals.

She blinked, gulped, and nodded a tiny nod. "You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Mark. You’ve done so much for me already. I can’t really expect that, I guess. But if it’s okay with you, you could leave all your Annie stuff at my house, and you could put it on sometimes, and then we could sit and cuddle, like we did all those days at Hope Haven."

"Let me think about it a minute." I tapped my blue-nailed index finger on my chin. Slowly I smiled. "If it doesn’t have to be full-time, and if I don’t have to get my hair permed when it grows back in, or wear acrylic nails that last forever, sure. When you need to see Annie, you can see her." My hunch had been confirmed. Annie was going to be a visible part of my life for some time to come. And that was okay.

FINALE

It’s Saturday evening, and I’m finishing this journal. I’ll be keeping other journals of our life, I’m sure. My own fingertips are clicking on the keys of my laptop, rather than the acrylic nails I had worn for over 6 weeks. My hands look like guy’s hands again.

After we returned home to the Holdings and I helped them unpack, my folks swung by to pick me up. Later, with my wig, makeup, and earrings still on, I changed into sweats and running shoes, and drove to the nail shop. Joan Kim greeted me and took me to a back area, away from other customers. I gave Joan back the clothes that she had loaned me. Joan used all the right solvents to remove the acrylics and the blue polish from around the edges. I took off my wig, took out the earrings, put them all in my gym bag, hugged Joan, and left through the back door.

I went home, shaved the stubble off my head, and what was left of my poor eyebrows, so everything could grow back together–I hope. I thought about letting my beard grow, but then I remembered that Annie would be back, probably sooner than later, to be there for Sarah Beth, to go visit Roberta, and maybe–I hoped not–to attend Roger’s funeral. Until one of those times, though, Mark was back.

Well, almost. When I started writing this final entry, I changed into the shorts I was going to wear to bed. I took off my socks and shoes, and looked down at my blue toenails. Mom still didn’t have any polish remover, so I guess they will have to wait.

Blue Nails  © 2000 by Emmie Dee