Synopsis:

Book Two opens with Joan and Sam sharing a very special night locked in embrace. The two teens continue to grow and evolve both together and separately.

Story:

Chapter 1

A New Beginning

Ring!…Ring!… I awoke from a deep sleep. Sam’s arms and legs were draped over me possessively. He was dead to the world. I carefully extricated myself and reached over for the phone to answer it. The red numerals emitted by my alarm clock told me it was now 1:50 AM. Something must be wrong!

"Hello?" I said with a raspy voice into the phone.

"Joan?" Recognizing her voice I replied, "yes Mom, it’s me. What’s up?"

"Joan, do you know where Sam is?" my mother asked. I almost burst out laughing as I realized the reason for the call.

"Yes Mom, she’s sleeping over here. Are you all right?"

"Your Aunt Alice has been worried sick about her," Mom informed me.

"I guess we should have called you and told you of our plans. Sam and I got wrapped up in a video game and she didn’t want to go home to an empty house," I lied.

"So you’re both all right then?" she asked with some concern in her voice.

"Yes Mom, we’re both fine. When are you coming home?"

"Well, that’s the other reason I called," she said mysteriously. "I’m going to be spending the night at Alice’s. Are you sure you’re ok?" she asked me.

"I couldn’t be better Mom," I replied honestly. Thankfully Mom didn’t ask precisely where Sam was sleeping. "I’ll see you in the morning then?" I asked her trying to get some handle on the time frame of freedom involved here.

"Yes Joan, I should be home by ten o’clock."

"I love you Mom!" I exclaimed in a whisper.

"I love you too Joan," she replied before hanging up. I put the phone back on the cradle and turned my attentions to the sleeping hulk lying next to me. Thankfully, my bed was full-sized and there was just enough room for us both to rest comfortably.

Sam… He was both beautiful and handsome. I lay there watching his peaceful sleep. He was angelic in appearance. At last I could no longer resist the urge and gently placed a few kisses about his face. He squirmed a bit at that and pulled me closer to him. I found myself unable to believe that he was here and sharing my bed. I began worrying and wondering how I’d ever be able to sleep alone again. In his arms was where I belonged. His hands began wandering slowly about my body. The feelings of bliss were simply indescribable. He began gently kissing me. As he awoke, his kisses became more definite. For the briefest of moments, I thought I’d discovered the meaning of life. The revelation was fleeting as Sam’s passionate embrace brought me completely back to reality.

"I love you Joan," he whispered solemnly. My entire being was doused in passion. I answered his declaration with a kiss. Soon he assumed his rightful position and once again we made love. Two souls melding into one. I wish I had the words to describe the rapturous feelings that pervaded my being. He was tender and gentle with me, yet, he conquered me with deliberate strength. Once again I found myself worrying that this night would soon end.

"I love you Sam," I said as I arrived back in the moment. "I’ve always loved you," I continued.

"We were made for each other," he said smiling down at me. I’m not sure what made me happier: my own feelings or the fact that Sam both understood and shared them.

He drifted back to sleep as I gently rubbed his back. His skin was so smooth I couldn’t believe it. I began weeping softly. True tears of joy escaped my eyes. I found myself wishing that this night would never end. Sam fell soundly asleep. I was in awe of his ability to do that after what had just happened. I continued to caress his back. My hunger for him was insatiable. His arm and leg soon found themselves draped over me once more: protectively and possessively. I fell asleep in his embrace.

Sadly, a new day would no longer be denied. I was awakened by Shandy’s paws scraping against my bedroom door. "Just a minute girl" I whispered out to her. I couldn’t believe it. Sam looked as though he could sleep till noon or beyond. I slipped out of bed as quietly as possible and put on some clothes. Shandy waited patiently for me to attend her needs. I looked back at Sam one last time before exiting. In my absence he had replaced me with Teddy and Josam both. I smiled at the gentle picture his image had painted for me. I prepared myself as I opened my door. I knew Shandy would try and enter my room and I quickly grabbed her and pushed her back out into the hallway.

"Come on girl, let’s go out." She followed me tail wagging down the stairs. I was still overflowing with joy.

"I love you girl!" I exclaimed.

"Woof!" she replied. That could only mean one thing. I either opened the door to let her out or run for the mop to clean up her mess. I let her out. She was out the door like a bullet. I checked the kitchen clock. It was just turning 9:00 AM. The poor dog, she wasn’t used to waiting this long to take care of her morning business. While Shandy busied herself outside, I went and put a pot of coffee on. It was then that I decided to bring Sam breakfast in bed. I found myself worrying about Mom’s return and quickly concocted a story of having slept on the floor should she return and find Sam in my bed. I scrambled some eggs, made some toast, got the butter and jam and made my way upstairs. I wasn’t sure how Sam liked his coffee, so I brought the cream and sugar too.

"Wake up sleepyhead," I announced as I made my way into my room.

"Whuh," he replied. I laughed aloud.

"Time to get up darling," I said again. He opened his eyes this time. He surveyed his surroundings as if trying to figure out just where he was and what was happening.

"I’ve brought you breakfast Sam," I said in the softest voice possible. He smiled at me as I attempted to deliver the tray to him. He almost knocked everything over as he reached for me. "Not now big guy!" I told him. He fixed his pillows properly and allowed me to place the tray on his lap. "Is everything to Sir’s satisfaction?" I asked him eagerly. He smiled at me in return and grabbed the cup of dark brown liquid.

"Yes Miss, everything is perfect"

I melted in happiness. I watched carefully as to how he prepared his coffee. He didn’t! He drank it black, just as I did. I knew I loved something about the guy, I thought and laughed at the absurdity. He made short work of my offering. I swear he treated those two eggs and four pieces of toast as an appetizer.

"Has monsieur had enough to eat?" I asked, enjoying the role I was playing.

"Yes, and thank you Miss. My regards to the chef."

"Shall I prepare your shower for you?" I asked him in an attempt to get him out of my bed before my mother arrived home.

He surprised me by replying, "yes Miss, you may."

I went into the bathroom and adjusted the water temperature till it was slightly on the warm side. "Your shower is prepared Sir," I told him when I’d finished. With that, he removed his body from my bed. Muscles rippling everywhere. He was a true joy to watch.

"Will Sir be requiring any assistance?" I inquired.

"Just make sure there’s more coffee ready when I’m finished," he said and laughed again. I left Sam to his shower. I took the tray and checked the room carefully. Yes, my bed sheets were soaked with blood. I was amazed that we’d been able to fall asleep in that pool. I stripped my bed and was thankful for the mattress pad underneath. I quickly rushed the sheets to the basement not searching for any other articles. Today they’d be washed with bleach. The load started, I made my way back to the kitchen. There was plenty of coffee left for Sam and me to share. We’d really become one. The fullness that surrounded my being made my body sing.

I sat at the kitchen table awaiting his arrival. I sipped absentmindedly from the cup of black coffee in front of me. I’d taken another of Mom’s cigarettes from the pack on her night stand.. I was certain she’d notice but at this point. I didn’t care. I lit the cigarette, sipped my coffee and waited for Sam to arrive. It was 10:15 when he made his way into the kitchen. There was still no sign of Mom.. I was beginning to get worried.

"You’ve become addicted to those things, haven’t you?" he asked me.

"What?" I replied not processing his comments.

"Nothing," he said. "Enjoy your coffee and cigarette," he said sighing. I had no intentions of wasting the evil weed as I continued smoking and drinking the black beverage.

It was now 10:30 and with Mom still not home, I decided to call Aunt Alice’s. After several rings she picked up the phone

"Peters’ residence," she said.

"Good morning Aunt Alice," I said brightly. "Is my mother awake yet?"

"Joan, is that you?"

"Yes," I informed her.

"Er, she’s out at the moment, I’ll have her call you as soon as she gets back," she said and quickly hung up the phone. There was obviously more going on here than I was aware of. As I put the phone back on its cradle, I walked over to Sam and kissed him gently on the cheek.

"What’s that for?" he asked me.

"That’s for loving me." I swear he turned several shades of red at my comment.

"What do you want to do today?" he asked. We had the entire day to spend together. Tomorrow, would begin a new life for me: a carpenter’s apprentice. I was eagerly looking forward to my new job.

"Well, if it were earlier I’d suggest we take Shandy for a walk on the beach. It’s too late for that now. Could we go to the beach anyway?" I asked him. "You know, as boyfriend and girlfriend?" I asked again hopefully.

"If that’s what you’d like to do sweetheart." I was whisked away in the moment.

"Why don’t you run home and put your suit on and I’ll get ready while you’re gone?" I said to him. He offered no resistance to my suggestion.

"I’ll be back in fifteen minutes. You’d better be ready."

Sam gathered up his belongings and made his way across the street. I ran up to my room and pondered just what to wear. Should I don John’s bathing suit? Should I wear my sexy new red one? I knew what I wanted to do and after a moment’s consideration, it was no contest. I put on my new suit and sadly filled the cups with the breast forms. I wished that I had breasts of my own to fill out my bathing suit. I could do this for now, but I knew that some changes were in order. I figured that Darla would be the most logical person to discuss my needs with.

I grabbed a blanket, a towel, and my shoulder bag filled with my makeup and other necessities. Sam hadn’t been lying. He was indeed back in fifteen minutes time.

"Are you ready girlfriend?" he asked as he entered without knocking. It made no sense at all, but I felt like I hadn’t seen him in weeks. I practically ran down the stairs, nearly falling head over heels in my flip flops.

"Sam!" I exclaimed as I ran to greet him with a hug. The big guy seemed completely at a loss. That was all right. I was just glad that he was here with me. He seemed more than a bit embarrassed to be wearing a one piece bathing suit, though he had it covered with another new sport shirt.

"This is who I am Joan," he said sadly surveying his own body.

"Sam, you look fantastic!" I said with feeling.

"You don’t look so bad yourself" he replied. Hmm, now he was stealing my lines?

"Did you see my mother when you were there?" I just had to ask.

"Your mother?" he issued repeating my comment. "No Joan, sorry, she wasn’t there." I found myself worrying about Mom. I couldn’t just leave without attempting to contact her. I dialed her cell phone number.

"Mom?" I said as it was answered.

"Huh?" her voice greeted me in return.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes Joan, I’m fine." I then reminded her of her intentions of being home by 10:00 this morning. She told me that she’d met another friend and spent the night at her house. Yeah, right, I thought. This conversation was bringing me down. Putting all such thoughts out of my head, I informed her that Sam and I were off to the beach.

"I’ll see you later this afternoon then?" she replied. I felt so damned sad all of a sudden.

"I love you Mom," I said achingly.

"I love you too Joan," she replied and disconnected our chat.

I found myself in a downward spiral. Just what was going on?

"Are you ready to go now Joan?" Sam asked me. I sighed aloud.

"Sure Sam, let’s get out of here." My mood brightened as we neared the beach.

"Do you have your pass?" I asked him.

"I’ve got mine, do you have yours?" he asked me.

The daily cost of admission to the beach in season was $5.00. Four annual passes were granted for residents. Sam held my hand as we walked to the ocean. Although we had passes, we still had to wait our turn in the queue.

"When are you getting your hair cut?" I asked him as we waited in line.

"Tomorrow," he replied matter of factly.

"I’ve got an idea about that," I said with some authority.

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, your hair is quite long and beautiful," I told him as I prepared for the punch on my right arm. It wasn’t long in coming.

"And?" he questioned.

"And you should try to preserve it if you can.. There are kids with cancer in need of human hair wigs. Let me cut the bulk of it off, ok?" I begged him. He smiled at me.

"Of course Joan!" he exclaimed. "What a wonderful idea!" This would be a win/win situation for all involved. Sam would get his short hair and some needy kid would be able to traipse about not having to suffer the inundation of questions regarding his or her condition. "Just one more reason why I love you."

"I just knew you’d want to help if you could," I told him sincerely.

Soon we were on the beach. It was a glorious summer’s Sunday and the beach was crowded with people. "The downside of living here," I thought aloud. Sam hearing my remark laughed in agreement. There was no point in attempting to walk anywhere to escape the crowds. I really hated having to share my beach with the encroachers. Sam sensing my displeasure arranged our blanket neatly and as far away from the crowd as he could. It was a fruitless task. He laid our blanket carefully on an open spot. We looked like a normal couple, but we were both wearing one piece bathing suits. He decided to repel as many as he could with a kiss. He pulled me close to him and kissed me full on the lips. The family of five that had just finished setting out their belongings moments before we arrived gathered their things and moved on in disgust. I laughed out loud.

"Now if you could just do that with everyone else in attendance," I said as I continued laughing.

"We really need to find a more deserted beach," he said laughing. There were other beaches available, but we’d have to ride a bus and then buy beach passes. I had no intentions of parting with my money that carelessly. Sam then asked me if I’d brought any sun tan lotion. I removed the bottle from my bag and he laughed again.

"So that’s what those things are for?"

"You want me to put this on you or not, Mr. Smartass?" I poured a thick glob of the white goo in the palm of my hand. I slowly massaged his shoulders with the formula. He actually seemed to be growing! His shoulders were massive. I could feel the tension continue to dissolve as I gently rubbed the lotion into his soft and tender skin.

"That feels so nice," he said in a dreamy voice.

"Enjoy it sport," I replied. "When I’m finished you’re doing me!"

"Aren’t you going to do my legs too?" he said when I’d finished his back.

"I think you can reach those on your own darling," I said by way of a reply.

He took the bottle from the blanket and finished the job. "Ok, now your
turn!" he exclaimed. I closed my eyes as he began massaging my shoulders. I couldn’t help myself. I began moaning in pleasure as his fingers gently caressed me.

"If you want me to continue this Joan, you’re going to have to quiet down!" he admonished. I noticed that surrounding couples were eyeing us carefully. Not just because of my moans. It was unusual for two who appeared "somewhat" as girls (the only clue to Sam’s gender being the one-piece bathing suit) to become intimate with one another on our beach. I giggled slightly and told him to just keep at it and to take his time. I closed my eyes again and focused on the sensuous feelings engulfing my being. His strong hands continued their task. No one had ever loved me like this before. Suddenly, he handed me the bottle and told me I could finish up the rest myself. I could tell that he didn’t want to stop. I just knew he wanted to rub the creamy liquid into my inner thighs. The stares of the invaders were more than he could handle.

"Thank you sweetheart," I said in a soft voice. He shrugged his shoulders and I planted a big kiss on his cheek.

"Wait Sam! You need something for your lips!" I said laughingly as I pulled the tube of lipstick out of my purse.

"Are you totally insane?" he asked with a touch of sincerity.

"You’re just figuring that out?" I replied as I put a fresh coat of "rose" on my lips.

"Want to try some Sam?" I asked in a teasing voice. He tackled me with the open tube in my hands. I was furious! My lipstick was now coated with sand. I shrugged it off, threw the tube on the blanket and did my best to take control of the situation.

"You’re not going to get the best of me again," he said.

"Don’t be so sure," I replied coyly. Finally he had me completely pinned to the blanket..

"Uncle!" I screamed. He let me go staring in every direction. The look in his eyes told me he was worried that we’d be arrested for indecent play on the beach.

The small group of boys that had gathered to watch us seemed disappointed when we stopped.

"Show’s over. Go home!" I yelled at them. Sam laughed at me and shook his head.

"You really are a nut case, Joan," he said to me.

"Well, I’m crazy about you," I whispered into his ear. His entire body shivered at my tone.

"You want to hit the water?" he asked me. The water temperature was still quite cold, but as it was officially summer, there was a fair crowd in the ocean.

"Sure Sam, why not?" I said and jumped up off the blanket urging him on. I extended my hand to help pull him up. Not sure why I did what I did next. He took it and as he attempted to stand, I threw him forward using his own motion against him. He almost landed atop a couple that had perched nearby. I laughed at him as he struggled to rise. The look in his eyes was one of complete determination.

"Oh Shit!" I exclaimed and began running for the water. I was knee deep in when he tackled me from behind.

"Girl!" I exclaimed in an attempt to placate him as I arose. He laughed with me. He wrapped his arms around me oblivious to the crowds surrounding us.

"I love you Joan," he whispered as a wave came crashing down on our heads.

"Still girl" I replied as we recovered. He smiled at me knowingly. He pulled me even closer as the waves continued to pound our bodies. I couldn’t imagine ever being happier than I was at that moment. It just wasn’t possible. After a time, he held my hand and ushered me back to our blanket. Thankfully, our belongings were still there. I really was worried about my purse "disappearing." In years past, there had never been any concern for such things. But, with the crowds these days, well stuff did disappear on occasion.

"So, what’s the plan for the week?" he asked me back in serious mode.

I told him that I had to be at Mr. Ferris’s house at 9:00 sharp tomorrow morning to start my new job.

"I just can’t see you working with wood," he replied and began laughing.

"Well, whether you can see it or not, that’s what’s happening," I said firmly.

"What about you? What are you up to tomorrow?" I asked.

"Well, I have to be at the field tomorrow at 2:00 PM for tryouts" he informed me. I’d completely forgotten about Sam’s hopes to play baseball for the county team this summer.

"You ready for that?" I asked him.

"You could help me practice if you’re of a mind."

"Anything for you sweetheart," I said and meant it. We were so lucky to have each other. It almost seemed like a fairy-tale existence in a way. I hoped that we’d always be this happy.

At that particular moment, I thought of my father and Sam’s Dad too. Such thoughts made me realize that we can only count on ourselves for happiness. Everything else is a bonus. Damn, I missed my Dad. Would he accept me for who I was? I sincerely doubted it. That didn’t matter to me anymore. I was and always would be "Joan." I smiled as I thought that Dad would indeed be calling me "Miss" from now on. Well, assuming I ever saw him again. I’d been quiet for quite a long time.

"Are you all right Joan?" Sam asked me.

"As long as you’re by my side I am," I said sincerely.

"Then you always will be," he said and kissed me tentatively on the lips.

"I’m hungry Sam!" I shouted and changing the subject.

"What would my lady like to eat?" he asked me. I couldn’t resist such an opportunity.

"You!" I replied and he laughed. We gathered up our belongings and made our way to the boardwalk. The line of those waiting to get on the beach was actually longer than when Sam and I had arrived.

"You really should enter the 4th of July ski ball tournament," he said out of nowhere. I was stunned on hearing this. Sam actually admitting that I was better than him at something? Who was this person?

"Maybe," I replied. "You really think I have a chance?" I asked seriously.

"If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have brought it up," he said matter of factly.

This was indeed a brave new world. Sam no longer felt the need to best me at everything. Or, was there something else going on here?

"You’ve already signed up for it, haven’t you Sam?" I asked and laughed. The guilt in his eyes shone through and he grinned at me sheepishly.

"All right then, you’re on!" I said, never one to refuse a challenge. Unfortunately, the tourney was held at one of the arcades that charged twenty-five cents a game.

"After we eat we can have a preliminary match," I said with much bravado. "Speaking of food, what would you like to eat?" I asked him as my stomach started to seriously rumble.

"I’m in the mood for a sausage, peppers and onions hero," he replied. Now there was an expensive lunch. I had thought about treating, but, this would be a bit much on my very meager budget.

"Don’t worry Joan," he said. "We can each buy our own food." I looked at him sadly knowing that I couldn’t afford such a simple lunch for both of us. "Hey? Let’s go get some pizza instead," he offered hopefully. The sadness of the moment wouldn’t leave me. "Come on Joan! I have to eat something," he implored forgetting about everything else except what was for lunch. The brief exchange had literally killed my appetite. I walked with Sam as he placed his order for his sandwich and drink. I had no idea where Sam got his money from or just how much he had, but he never seemed to be without. I resolved then to be the best worker Mr. Ferris had ever had. I sat with Sam and watched him as he devoured his sandwich.

"Aren’t you hungry?" he asked me. I was but decided to wait till I got home.

"I’m fine Sam," I said smiling at him as I did so. I hadn’t been on a scale in some time, but I was sure that I was losing weight. I thought that was fine, but I found my eyes looking down at my chest and wishing that I’d gain some weight there.

"I really need a nap Sam," I said as he finished up.

"Sounds like a plan," he said as he rose and took my hand. We began walking back to our street entrance.

"What’s your favorite number again?" he asked me out of nowhere.

"Two" I replied without thinking. He walked over to one of the few wheels that still offered tobacco as prizes. He put his quarter down on number two and seconds later the huckster announced that "we" had a winner. The attendant eyed us both carefully. I had to admit that I looked far older than Sam and took charge of the situation.

"What’s your pleasure Miss?" he asked me.

"Virginia Slims," I informed him.

"Regular or menthol?" he went on.

"Menthol," I replied.

"Of course" he said and removed a carton from the shelf. "Next time you two play this wheel, bring some ID," he said handing me the carton. An entire carton of cigarettes! What the hell was I going to do with them?

"Why did you do that Sam?" I asked him.

"If you don’t want them, then give them to your mother," was his only reply.

"No, I’ll keep them, and thank you Sam," I said. I was beginning to think that he took some vicarious pleasure from watching me destroy my lungs.

"Well, are you going to have one then?" he asked. We went over to an empty bench and I removed a pack from the carton. What if someone saw me carrying these things home? I sighed aloud.

"Let me light it for you," he said as he removed the matches from my bag.

"Sam, thank you, but don’t ever put your hands in there again," I said motioning to my bag. He looked hurt by my comment.

"It’s alright Sam, I was only teasing," I replied as I dipped the end of the tube into the flame. He seemed relieved by my statement and we sat there watching the crowds go by.

"You want one?" I asked him.

He looked at me like I was nuts. "I’m in training, remember?" he said seriously. I took some of the smoke into my lungs and kissed him. He choked when he realized just what I was doing. I couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

"You minx!" he exclaimed. I knew we could get through anything together. Being Joan was important to me, but keeping my man happy was more important still. He was more important to me than anyone I’d ever known. I sat there and continued smoking. Sam’s strange fascination with my actions wasn’t lost on me.

"I really do need a nap Sam," I said to him at last.

"I’d almost forgotten," he replied absentmindedly. We gathered up our belongings. I put the open pack in my purse and wrapped the carton in my blanket. We made our way home.

"What time should I pick you up later?" he asked as we arrived at my door.

"Well, I have to see how Mom’s doing" I informed him. Mom, I’d totally forgotten about Mom. Was she home? Was she ok? "Tell you what," I said. "I’ll call you in fifteen minutes and let you know." He reluctantly released me and made his way across the street.

"Mom, I’m home!" I said as I made my way into the house. No reply at all. Not even a "woof" to greet me. I ran into the kitchen almost afraid of what I’d find. It was empty. I ran upstairs and opened Mom’s closed bedroom door. Had it been open when I left this morning? I couldn’t remember. I opened it softly. Mom was asleep under the covers. I can’t begin to explain the relief that washed over me. What would I ever do without her? All selfish thoughts aside, I knew that this was a woman I loved and respected. I heaved a huge sigh of relief as I carefully closed her door. She could sleep as long as she needed.

I hid the carton of cigarettes in the back of my closet and made my way downstairs. The coffee pot was empty and turned off. I guess I should have noticed that earlier. All by itself it told me that Mom was home and all right. I made my way into the basement. I removed the sheets from the dryer. Had it really been just hours ago that Sam and I had made love? All signs of the previous night’s activities had been removed from the bed coverings. I held the sheets and pulled them to my nose. I wished that I’d been able to save them as they were. The loss of our youth was contained in the fabric. I folded the sheets carefully and brought them up to the kitchen. Although they’d been cleaned, I decided to save them. I’d save them forever. I loved Sam so!

Just then, I heard a woofing outside the back door. "Shandy!" I exclaimed as I opened the door to let her in. "Woof!" she replied as she hurried past me to her water dish. I poured my self a cup of orange juice and sat down at the table. Shandy came woofing over to me yet again as if she wanted something else.

"What is it girl?" I asked her. She ran over to her empty food bowl and began knocking it about. I couldn’t help but laugh.

"Hang on girl," I told her as I filled a clean bowl with food.

I sat there finishing my juice and remembered that I’d promised to call Sam. It was now after 4 PM and I had no idea when or how long Mom intended on sleeping. "Sam" I said as he picked up the phone "I’ll be over at 6:30 sharp." He laughed at that and told me I’d better be. My mission accomplished, I cleaned up the kitchen and made my way up to my room. My bed was bare. I removed the sheets from my closet. The ones with the floral print that I’d never used. Mom thought they looked nice and bought them for me. I’d thought she was crazy when she first showed them to me. Had she known even then? I smiled as I removed them from the plastic wrapper and placed them on my bed. It looked so inviting when I was finished. I couldn’t resist lying down for just awhile. I fell asleep without ever having set my alarm clock.

I awoke to my mother’s voice. "Joan, are you all right?" she asked. "You can’t sleep all day," she said.

I laughed at that. If it was true then what had she been doing all day? "I’m fine Mom," I told her. A quick glance at the clock told me it was just after five. I wanted to ask her if she had indeed been at Aunt Alice’s, but decided it might be better not to know. "Did you have fun last night?" I asked her. Her face was filled with mixed emotions. It was as though she wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.

"It was an interesting evening," she replied cryptically. I was intrigued by her reply and wanted to know more, but I’d leave that up to her. If she spent the night with some guy other than my father, I definitely didn’t want to know. In fact, I’d have cut her off if she’d tried to share such a thing. Thankfully, she didn’t go there.

"What do you say, shall we share a meal together?"

"Sounds like a plan Mom," I replied remembering my promise to be at Sam’s by 6:30.

"You really like being a girl, don’t you Joan?" she asked me in an almost sad tone. In the past week or so I’d come to take it all for granted and a puzzled expression showed on my face. Rather than respond to her question, I found myself surveying my room and realized that I’d have to make some changes. This definitely was not Joan’s room.

"Yes Mom, I do. I know now that it’s who I was meant to be." The look in her eyes ran the full gamut of emotions. I saw in them happiness, sadness, and yes, fear. "It’s all right Mom," I said and gave her a hug. "Shall we just enjoy the moment?" I asked pleadingly.

"Get dressed girl," she commanded. "We’re going out to eat." She didn’t have to ask me twice. As I got dressed and did my makeup I realized that I couldn’t look like John if I’d wanted to. The breast forms however, were a constant reminder of who I really was. I felt angry and ashamed as I slipped them into my bra cups. The charade aspects of being Joan would have to end and have to end soon. Somehow, the determination to achieve my goal comforted me. I would not go on merely pretending forever.

"Where would you like to eat?" Mom asked as I finished putting on my eye makeup. I smiled at her reflection standing behind me in the mirror.

"Wherever you’d like," I responded secretly hoping that she’d pick a steak house.

"I feel like breakfast," she said at last.

Oh well, I’d told her it was all good for me. I laughed and replied, "then breakfast it is!" I put on my pumps and made my way downstairs. They made me feel older and more sophisticated somehow. I can’t really explain it. Mother and daughter soon made their way to the car. It wasn’t long before we were standing in front of the podium at the pancake house waiting to be seated.

"Smoking or non-smoking?" the hostess asked.

"Smoking," Mom replied. As she said that I found myself looking down at my purse. I really wanted a cigarette. The waitress came and escorted us to our booth.

"Would you ladies like something to drink while you look over the menu?" she asked. Being addressed as a female had become second nature to me at this point.

"Coffee would be nice," I said. Mom echoed my sentiments.
She quickly reappeared with two cups and filled them. Then, she placed the remainder of the pot in front of us.

"I’ll just give you a few minutes then," she smiled and left. I was amazed as I realized the difference a server’s attitude could make to the enjoyment of a meal. It seemed beyond obvious, yet the thought had never occurred to me before. Mom finished adding cream and sugar to her coffee and deftly removed a cigarette from her purse and lit it. I was going crazy as I watched her sitting there drinking her coffee and smoking. She could read the hunger in my eyes.

"Sorry Joan, but you know you have to be eighteen to smoke. It’s the law," she said with finality. I gave her a look which suggested she was far off the mark regarding my hunger. I focused my attention on the menu.

I’d learned something else from my dining experiences. To order anything other than the "house specialty" was to order something beyond mediocre. I decided to go with the big breakfast. We placed our orders and Mom sat there talking about my new job which I hadn’t even begun yet, while we waited for our food to arrive.

I grew comfortable discussing my plans for the summer. Everything just seemed so much more relaxed now. "So, what did you and Sam do last night?" she asked me. We made mad passionate love till daybreak, I wanted to respond.

"We played video games and went to sleep," I told her. Realizing that it sounded like a giveaway I added; "Well, after you called she woke up and we went downstairs and got something to eat." It felt very strange using feminine pronouns when referring to Sam.

"You really like her Joan, don’t you?" I looked at her quizzically. "As more than a friend," she added for purposes of clarification.

"I love Sam, Mom," I told her. "He’s my life," I said emphatically. The look of concern that crossed her face was impossible to describe. I’m not sure if she was more worried about the fact that I loved Sam or whether I’d referred to him in the masculine.

"Just be careful Joan," she implored.

Our food arrived. Oh my god, had I really ordered so much food? The mere sight of it all was causing me to lose my appetite. Three plates were spread before me. Mom gave me a look which suggested, "I told you so." We thanked Dana profusely for her prompt service and began to dig in. I decided to eat a bit of everything. There was so much food before me that mere tastes would fill me up. It didn’t take long before my stomach felt about ready to explode. I’d had more than my share. I sat there and watched Mom as she continued to eat.

"Eyes bigger than your stomach?" Dana intoned as she returned to retrieve our plates.

"I guess so," I responded. "Besides, I’m watching my weight," I laughed. She nodded in agreement and asked if I’d like her to pack the rest away in a "doggie bag." I thought that was extremely nice of her and told her so. Well, at least I’d have a good breakfast tomorrow morning. Mom finished her food and had yet another cigarette. I did my best to ignore the whole procedure. I succeeded. It was closing in on six thirty as we left the restaurant.

"Mom, I really need to get home!" I begged.

"What’s up?" she asked me. I told her that I needed to help Sam practice his pitching.

"Practice his pitching?" Mom asked. I laughed and explained the entire situation to her. "I’m glad you’re my daughter and not Sam," Mom said and laughed. Somehow that statement made me uncomfortable. I finally decided that my relationship with Sam was the best that anyone could ever hope for. We were best friends and lovers.

I ran in the door the moment Mom pulled into the driveway. I was going to be late. I decided that it would take more time to call him than to just change. I grabbed a pair of jeans and a tee shirt and threw on my sneakers. I nearly somersaulted down the stairs. I grabbed my catcher’s mitt out of the closet and told Mom I’d be home before dark. Ten minutes late. I hoped Sam wouldn’t be too annoyed with me.

"Come on Sam," I screamed as I knocked on the door.

"You’re late!" he yelled back.

"Thanks for noticing," I replied. He appeared at the door and we made our way to the park. After my last experience there I didn’t think that I’d ever play baseball again. I had a hard time shaking the sad memories.

"Are you ok Joan?" he asked me.

"Yeah Sam, I’m fine," I smiled in return.

Although I was wearing boys’ clothes, I no longer felt like one. It almost felt like I’d forgotten how to throw a baseball. After awhile, those strange sensations slipped away and Sam and I were once again two kids having a game of catch.

"Ok big guy, give me some heat," I said as I pounded my mitt with my right hand. Sam went into his windup and released the ball. I caught it, then dropped the ball and my mitt on the ground wincing in pain. "What the hell was that?" I cried as I gently rubbed my palm.

"You wanted my fast ball," he said and laughed.

"I need to take a break," I said, not wanting to let him know just how bad my hand hurt. My hand turned bright red and was starting to swell. Oh no! I was supposed to start work tomorrow. That was the end of my baseball playing. "I’m sorry Sam," I said to him.

"No, I’m sorry Joan," he said in reply. We’d better get you home and get your hand soaking.

What the hell was happening to me? I’d been playing baseball with Sam since I was five years old. "Let me kiss it and make it all better," he said and laughed again. I simply glared at him. As we were leaving, the hapless trio was making their way into the park.

"You want to go and practice with them?" I asked him. He looked briefly in their direction and then sadly in mine.

"Would you mind?" he said at last. Oh well, if I hadn’t meant it, I shouldn’t have made the offer.

"Go ahead Sam," I said. "Call me when you get home."

"Hey Joan! Don’t you want to play ball with us?" Billy laughed in a taunting manner. He’d seen me there holding my hand in pain. The last words I heard as I made my escape were from Sam telling him he’d better knock it off or he’d do the same thing to him.

I must have caught the ball the wrong way. The resulting injury shouldn’t have happened. I arrived back home by 7:30.

"What are you doing back so soon?" Mom asked as I walked in the door. I motioned to my left hand and made my way up to the bathroom. I filled the sink with cold water and sat on the edge of the tub with my hand immersed in it. Mom came in a few minutes later with some ice and some epsom salts. Gradually my hand began to feel better. I had full movement of my fingers and I knew that I was going to be fine. I heaved a sigh of relief. I was really looking forward to my job tomorrow. I needed the money. Finally, I removed my hand from the mixture. I guessed I wouldn’t be playing catch with Sam anymore. In some small way I felt like I was losing my friend. Still, we couldn’t be everything to each other. Besides, for some strange reason I found my interests headed in different directions.

It was only 8:00 PM. I figured Sam wouldn’t be home for some time yet. I decided to give Darla a call. It seemed like forever since I’d last talked to her.

"Hello?" she said as she picked up the phone.

"Hi Darla, it’s me," I said sheepishly.

"Joan!" she exclaimed.

"Whoa! What are you so excited about?" I asked her.

"It just feels like forever since we’ve talked," she told me. Truth be told, we’d just spent the morning together oh, about thirty-six hours ago.

"What’s new?" I asked her, unable to think of anything else to say.

"Oh, nothing much," she replied coyly. I could tell she was holding something back on me but had no idea what it could have been.

"How’s your new hairdo holding up?" she asked. I laughed and told her that it was perfect. I then asked her if she wanted to get together one evening this week. She said that would be great and suggested Thursday. Since I didn’t have any plans, I agreed.

"I’ll see you then," I told her. "And Darla, if you ever just want to talk, please give me a call, ok?" I found myself hoping that she’d kiss me over the phone as I heard the line go dead. She didn’t.

It was now 9:00. I hadn’t realized that Darla and I had been on the phone for such a long time. I quickly dialed Sam’s number. He answered and I asked him how his practice had gone. He told me it had been perfect and that he had high hopes of making the team. I was happy for him but a wee part of me also felt a pang of jealousy.

"So, how’s your hand?" he asked me. I’d totally forgotten about my hand and that could only mean one thing.

"It’s fine Sam."

"Sorry Joan, I forgot I was playing catch with a girl," he said and laughed. That comment really stung, but I didn’t let on.

"Ah well, we can’t all throw a baseball at 100 MPH," I said, exaggerating his accomplishment.

"So, I’ll see you tomorrow evening then?" he asked.

"There’s no place else I’d rather be. Does seven thirty work for you?" He told me that it did and we said our goodnights. It was closing in on ten o’clock and time to get ready for bed. I went downstairs and chatted with Mom for a bit before making my way back upstairs. I did a bit more research on the Internet regarding my condition and soon found myself in bed snuggled between Teddy and Josam. I wished that I’d been snuggling up against Sam as I drifted off…

Monday morning arrived and I awoke without aid of my alarm clock. It was 7:00 AM. I ran downstairs and started a pot of coffee then ran back upstairs to shower. I carefully shampooed my hair using the new shampoo recommended by the stylist. Shaving my legs and pits had become a daily routine. Fifteen minutes later I sat at the kitchen table with a cup of black coffee and a cigarette. I tried to forgo the nicotine but the allure was just too strong. Shandy scratched at the back door to come in and I greeted her with a hug. It was nearly 8:30 when I made my way upstairs to make sure Mom was awake before leaving for work.

I battled an inner turmoil as "Joan" insisted that I bring my purse with me. I finally convinced myself that it looked "unisex" enough and slung the bag over my shoulder. Besides, it held my lunch! That was as good an excuse as any for carrying the bag. Mr. Ferris’ house was more than a few blocks away and my bike would be required to make it there in a reasonable amount of time. I eyed myself one last time in my compact mirror before heading out.

Why was I feeling so nervous? I put such thoughts away and concentrated on my trip. I arrived at the Ferris’ home at 8:55. Not knowing what else to do, I rang the front door bell. Almost immediately a kindly lady answered. I explained that I was there to see Mr. Ferris and start work this morning.

"Tom!" she cried out. "There’s a young lady here who says she’s supposed to report for work this morning. It’s about time you hired a girl as a helper." I stood there silently blushing. I’d done nothing to make myself appear feminine this morning. Oh well, her assumption was fine with me, though I did feel more than a bit embarrassed. Mr. Ferris finally appeared in the foyer and did a double take before he realized who I was.

"Joan Johnson reporting for work," I said in an attempt to help him out. It took him a moment to get with the program, but at last he did.

"Well Joan, the shop is out back in the garage, go and put your stuff in there and wait for me, I’ll be back in a few minutes." I heaved a sigh of relief. For a moment I was afraid that he was going to simply send me on my way. I guess my double piercings and my hair cut, not to mention my pink nails and shoulder bag could be perceived as being girly. I laughed aloud. OK, of course they were.

Still, I was there to work and serious about working! I made my way back to the detached garage. A young man about my age greeted me.

"Hello, my name is Paul," he said. "And you are?" I explained to Paul just who I was and why I was there. He did the same. Seems he was Mr. Ferris’ nephew and worked for his uncle whenever he could. Five minutes later Mr. Ferris arrived.

"I see you two have met," he said. "OK Joan, here it is. You will work Monday through Thursday from 9 till 2:30 with a half hour lunch at noon. I’ll be paying you $5.00 per hour. I expect an honest day’s work from my summer help," he finished. Perfect! It paid just as I’d hoped. No need to negotiate or anything else. With that, my morning began. Sanding. Thankfully, I’d put on the mask offered me by Paul as I began my work.

It seemed he and Mr. Ferris had worked together for a long time and that Paul was his number one assistant. I was the "sander." By eleven o’clock my body was screaming in agony. This wasn’t at all what I’d imagined. The mindless sanding of bookcases and bureaus was beginning to drive me a bit batty. I almost began to fear that my biceps would develop from the work. Such a strange thought to have. Noon arrived and I was told to take half an hour for lunch. It was an unpaid break, but I didn’t care. I really needed a break. Paul attempted to chat me up. Apparently he thought I was a girl named Joan too. That made me just a tad nervous, though it made my life easier overall. I was Joan!

The last two hours of the day passed quickly. I slung my bag over my shoulder and bade them farewell. "Hold on a minute Joan," Mr. Ferris said. I waited and worried that my work hadn’t been up to par. We stood alone in his driveway. "You know, when I saw you this morning, I was going to send you home thinking that it had been a big mistake on my part in offering you the job. My wife, Matilda, convinced me otherwise. She’s been after me for years now to hire a girl as summer help. As far as she’s concerned, you’re it. Do you understand what I’m saying?" he asked me. I had to admit, I could be slow at times, but I fully understood what he was saying.

"What about Paul?" I asked, but not quite sure why.

"Paul knows all he needs to know. If he becomes a problem, you just speak to me. I’ll see you tomorrow morning at 9:00 sharp. Don’t be late and do report back here. Understand?" he asked again. I shook my head in comprehension.

"I’ll see you in the morning Mr. Ferris," I said and pedaled off. I had made more in those five hours than I was paid for a week’s allowance.

Yes, sanding sucked but somebody had to do it. I decided to voice no complaints at all. Well, at least not for a few weeks anyway. I wasn’t too far away from Darla’s as I headed home and decided to take a chance and pay her a visit. I really needed a cell phone of my own. Maybe I could negotiate one as a birthday present? I arrived at the Raspberry home shortly thereafter and rang the bell. Aunt Viv answered and I asked her if Darla was home.

"Was she expecting you?" she asked before informing me that Darla and Dani were out for the afternoon. I felt stupid having replied to her question when she clearly knew that Darla wasn’t at home. Grownups, I thought!

"Come on in Joan. Would you like a cup of coffee? I’ve just made a fresh pot." I found myself drawn to this woman. I hoped somewhere in the back of my mind that this, finally, was an adult that I could talk to.

"That would be nice Aunt Viv," I replied. "Do you mind if I wash up a bit first?" She looked at me strangely and told me to go ahead. I used the main floor half bath and bathed my face in the sink’s running water. That felt much better. I imagined that my pores were clogged with saw dust. When I finished, I blotted my face dry and applied a coat of mauve to my lips. I couldn’t begin to explain how much better that simple act made me feel. I inspected my face one last time in the mirror and smiled at my reflection.

Task completed I made my way into the kitchen. Aunt Viv was sitting at the table and had already poured a cup of coffee for me. "You take it black, don’t you Joan?" she asked. I marveled that she’d remember.

"Yes, I do and thank you," I replied as I sat down.

"Have you given any thought as to how you’re going to proceed?" she asked me. Her question knocked me for a loop as I realized the import. Hell, I was just a kid still a few more weeks away from my fourteenth birthday!

"I have a few ideas," I replied at last.

"Really? Tell me about them." I sighed. There was no putting off Aunt Viv once she’d locked onto a target. "You do know I’m a licensed therapist, don’t you?" she asked me. I had no idea, and my eyes betrayed that fact. "You thought I was just a housewife, didn’t you?" she scolded. To be honest, I’d never given her occupation or position any thought at all. It was enough to know that she was Darla’s loving mother.

"Hang on a second Aunt Viv. One question at a time. I had no idea you were a therapist, how could I?" I asked her. "As for anyone being just a housewife, shame on you! I know what it takes to make a household run. It’s a full time job at least!" She seemed beyond pleased at my response.

"If you’re sure about what you want, I can help you," she stated somewhat cryptically. I knew where she was going however and was grateful for an ally.

"Thanks Aunt Viv, I need all the help I can get."

"What would you suggest I do?" I asked her. She smiled at me and in typical therapist fashion replied.

"What would you like to do?" Nothing I hated more than mind games. Besides, I was clearly overmatched.

"I want to be who I was meant to be," I replied in a cryptic fashion of my own. She laughed at that.

"Very good Joan," she laughed again. "You are learning! You do know you’re at a critical age?" she asked. I could sense that I was, but wasn’t really sure how or why it was so.

"What do you mean?" I asked seeking clarification.

"Soon your body will be awash in testosterone. Your beard will begin growing. Your voice will deepen, your Adam’s apple will become more prominent among other things," she said. I knew I didn’t want any of those things to happen, not to mention the other things!

I sat there with my coffee cup in one hand, my face buried in the other and began weeping. Life shouldn’t be this difficult, I thought yet again.

"I’m sorry Joan," Aunt Viv whispered. "It’s all right. We’ll find a way to make it all work out for you," she said finally. I looked up at her expectantly. Part of me wanted to ask her to wave her magic wand and make it all better. Speaking of better, I knew better. To really become Joan would be no easy task. I was beyond determined.

"Things aren’t exactly all right at this point," I informed her. "But they will be soon enough" I said with conviction. It seemed I was locked in on a single frame of mind. There would be no turning back. This was not a phase. She smiled at me and refreshed my cup of coffee which I’d all but drained. We sat there drinking and talking for the better part of an hour. At length, I told her I had to go home and make dinner.

I thanked her profusely for her time. She seemed far more rational than my own mother. She hugged me as I readied myself to leave. "That was an incredibly sweet thing you did for Darla," she announced out of nowhere.

"What?" I inquired.

"The teddy bear!" she exclaimed. "Darla falls asleep each night with that bear clutched to her chest." I smiled at that admission. I was beyond glad that she appreciated Jola. "You’re laughing!" she exclaimed.

"I’m just glad that she’s happy." Aunt Viv suggested a few more websites for me to check out and bade me farewell.

It was close to five o’clock as I arrived home. I couldn’t help myself. I kept thinking about my Dad. It had been weeks now and he still hadn’t attempted to contact me. I called the number of his firm. The number was posted on the refrigerator.

"Dewey, Cheatem, and Howe," the voice answered.

"Mr. Johnson please?" I asked.

"One moment please," the voice responded. "I’m sorry Miss. The party you are attempting to reach is no longer available. Is there someone else you wish to talk to?" it asked. I sat there stunned. What had happened to Dad? I almost broke out in tears as I said goodbye to the unidentified voice. Mom surely had some answering to do when she got home. I surveyed the evening’s menu and prepared dinner.

Notes:

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Synopsis:

As the story of "Me and Sam" continues to unfold, Joan finds out what became of her father. Sam has a surprise of his own to reveal.

Story:

Chapter 2

All I Need Is A Miracle

Mom arrived home promptly at six. I did my best to put on a happy face. I hoped that she’d be able to have a "real" conversation with me. I poured her drink for her and delivered it to the table. Unable to control myself any longer, I blurted out, "Mom, we have to talk." She eyed me warily as I engaged in an inner battle over how to proceed. Sometimes, its better to just get it out and consider the consequences later. She sat there silently waiting for me to continue. My eyes locked on her own as I asked her, "Mom, what’s happened to Dad?"

It was as though I’d said some trigger phrase that sent her into hysterics. I didn’t mind consoling her, but I was determined to get some answers. I walked over to where she was sitting and grabbed her head in my hands and pulled her to my chest. I ached with the realization that I had no bosom for her to rest her weary head upon. "Mom, cry all you want, but I really need some answers." She sat there wailing, but no tears would come. After a few minutes she finally calmed down. "I tried calling Dad at work," I said softly before continuing. "I was told that Mr. Johnson was no longer employed there. I guess what I really need to know is my situation the same as Sam’s?" For a moment a look of confusion swept over her face.

"So, you know about Sam," she said at last. "No John, you don’t need to worry about that. Robert Johnson is your father." The way she said it, she could have just as easily said "sperm donor."

"Why hasn’t he called me?" I asked point blank.

"OK John, I’m not going to pussy foot around with this any longer. Your father has run off with his secretary."

"Oh," was all I could manage.

"He claims to be in love for the first time in his life," she continued. "He’s set up his own practice somewhere in the state of New Jersey. As to why he hasn’t contacted you, I have no answers. I’m sorry sweetheart," she said at last. My body began shaking uncontrollably as I processed the information.

"He just up and left without a word?" The "to me" was implied.

The tears began flowing in earnest as Mom said yet again, "I’m sorry sweetheart." My life was becoming a cliché. I sighed audibly. For some reason I found myself unable to cry for my father. I was more angry than anything else. For a moment I thought about pouring a "drink" for myself. I resisted the urge. I sat back down as I numbly processed the information just provided. My father… hell, I didn’t know what to think. So many conflicting thoughts assaulted my mind that I couldn’t make sense of any of them. It all came down to: my father had deserted me. As I watched Mom sitting there, staring at me, my hatred for the man grew. Part of me hoped that I just didn’t have the whole picture, that there was more to this than met the eye. Still, the bottom line was he’d left and made no attempt to contact me.

I sat there and tried to convince myself that it was for the best. There was no way in hell that Dad would ever accept "Joan." I thought for a moment that somehow I’d find a way to make him understand, but given the circumstances, I knew I was just lying to myself. The last thing in the world I wanted to do was to eat anything. Somehow, I figured if I did that it would help Mom snap out of her funk. I took some food and carelessly shoveled it into my mouth. There was no way I was going to be able to do this. I got up from my seat and ran to the waste bin. I wasn’t even sure what it was that I’d attempted to eat as it spewed from my mouth and into the can. Between heaves and sobs I exclaimed, "I’m sorry Mom!"

Perhaps that was the best way of dealing with the situation. Mom, instead of sinking further into her own funk, came over and comforted me. She moistened some paper towels and carefully cleaned off my face.

"Don’t worry Joan, it’s going to be all right." A few minutes later, having calmed down, I began putting everything away. There would be no dinner this evening. I had the love of my mother, the love of Sam, yet this overwhelming sense of emptiness surrounded me. Would it ever go away? Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew that all of this was my fault. It wasn’t really, but that’s how I felt and there was no consoling me.

For something to do, I put on a pot of coffee. Just doing anything seemed to keep me from crumbling. I poured us each a cup and sat back down at the table. Mom didn’t bat an eye as I lit a cigarette.

"You know, smoking will stunt your growth," she said at last and began laughing.

"Good," was my one word reply. The mood had somehow lightened a bit.

"What do you say us girls go shopping this evening?" she asked. I sat there for a moment mulling over her proposition.

"OK Mom, but I do have one condition."

"What’s that?" she asked.

"That we stay away from the Piercing Palace," I said with a smile on my face. She laughed at that and soon we were on our way to the mall.

"Is there anything you need?" she asked as we entered. I thought of my very limited supply of clothes and figured maybe a new top or two wouldn’t do too much damage to our meager budget.

We picked out a few shells together. Mom was a lot more into the shopping stuff than I was. I have to admit though, I was happy to have the new clothes even if they did come off the clearance racks. As we walked through the main mall Mom attempted to grab hold of my hand.

"Mom!" I implored. "I’m not five years old anymore," I said a bit huffily.

She smiled at that and gave up in her attempt. "How’s your new job?" she asked me. I gave her the long version and told her everything that had transpired that day including my trip to Aunt Vivian’s. It’s funny, but as John I know I’d have simply responded, "it was fine Mom", and let it go at that. It just seemed easier talking to her now.

"OK daughter, I’d better get you home," she said at last. "You do have to go to work tomorrow." We were both silent on the short ride home. The funk that we’d slipped out of for awhile found its way back.

Not sure why, but I found myself saying yet again: "I’m sorry Mom." She gently assured me that I had nothing to be sorry about. I believed her.

"It’s just going to take some time to get used to," she said at length.

I hugged and kissed her and whispered, "I love you Mom."

We made our way into the house and I modeled my new tops for her. I’m not sure which of us was more excited about them. I loved the new tops and was determined to get some use out of them.

"Mom, is it ok if I go and call Sam?" I asked more concerned with her state of well being than my own.

"I don’t see why not," she replied. I made my way upstairs and dialed Sam’s number.

"Joan!" he exclaimed upon picking up. "I made the team!"

"That’s fantastic Sam," I said to him halfheartedly. I’m not sure why I wasn’t happier for him, but something about it made me sad. Was I upset because I wouldn’t be the one playing baseball this summer?

We talked for awhile longer and he asked if it would be ok if he came over for a few minutes. It was only 9:30 so I told him I didn’t see why not. No more than a minute later he came bounding through the front door still wearing his uniform. Thankfully, he wasn’t wearing his spikes. He was quite a sight in that get up. Sam took off his baseball cap and bowed to me. His hair was beyond short.

"Oh Sam! What have you done?" He laughed and asked me if I liked it. I’d never seen Sam with short hair before. I was stunned. No one would be mistaking him for a "girl" anymore. I wondered how Aunt Alice was handling this situation. "Has your mother seen you yet?" I asked. He looked like he wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. "It’s ok baby," I whispered, "you look fantastic!" I said, though I wasn’t really sure I believed it. He smiled sheepishly at me and embraced me firmly. I let out a gasp as I begged him to ease up a bit. He laughed carelessly and reduced the pressure of his embrace.

"Hey, Aunt Joan!" he called out obviously seeking approval from someone besides myself. Mom came walking into the living room and her jaw dropped.

"Samantha, is that you?" she asked. This was not the response that Sam was seeking. Tears began forming in his eyes as he plopped down on the couch. "Sam, you look quite handsome," Mom assured him. "I honestly didn’t recognize you there for a moment."

That seemed to placate him and he replied,. "It’s all right Aunt Joan, I guess I’m as much of a shock to the system as Joan here," he laughed a bit cynically.

Mom left the room abruptly with Sam and myself sitting on the couch. She returned moments later carrying her camera. Seeing her holding that brought smiles to both of our faces. It meant acceptance. It meant that she’d want to remember the way we both looked that evening. We sat there and Sam put his arm around my shoulder. We both looked up and smiled without any prompting. Mom snapped a few shots and thanked us for indulging her.

"No, thank you, Aunt Joan," he said and got up and gave her a hug. Pictures taken, Mom made her way back into the kitchen. The next thing I heard was her half of a conversation with Aunt Alice…

"I always thought they’d wind up together, but not like this," I heard Mom say as her voice drifted off. Sam and I unable to tune out the words being spoken and not wishing to hear what was being said made our way outside.

There was a slight scent of salt in the air. I closed my eyes and embraced it. Sam wrapped his arms around me, kissed me gently and whispered, "I love you Joan." I melted at his touch. Given everything that had happened, I was a bit wary of relationships, but I knew that I’d always love Sam.

"I love you too sweetheart," I whispered in return. We stood there for a few minutes locked in embrace, both of us with goofy grins on our faces.

"I’d better get going," he said at last. "I’ve got practice everyday except Sunday for the next two weeks and then our season begins." A surge of pride in his accomplishment finally washed over me and I let him know that I’d always be his biggest fan. He gushed a bit at that and finally kissed me goodnight.

I made my way back into the house. Mom was still on the phone with Aunt Alice. Shandy and I played catch until we both grew tired of the game. I let her out and went upstairs to ready myself for bed.

"Joan?" Mom’s voice assaulted me. "Are you all right?"

"I’m fine Mom," I assured her. I told her that I was tired and was going to call it a day. She bade me goodnight. I stripped naked and climbed under the sheets. I found myself wishing I had a pair of satin pajamas to wear as sleep overtook me.

The next thing I knew, the alarm sounded letting me know that a new day had dawned. Sure, I wanted the money, but I really didn’t feel like going to work today. Ah well, a small price to pay. The hours weren’t bad and my work mates were acceptable. It was getting too warm to be wearing long pants, so I decided to wear my black skort. I grabbed a cute tee shirt to wear as a top and donned my sneakers. Since, apparently Mr. Ferris was "expecting" Joan, I decided not to disappoint him. I put on some lipstick, grabbed my purse and pedaled off to work.

Two doors down from Mr. Ferris’ house I noticed a familiar face lugging a garbage can to the curb. Damned if it wasn’t Sarah. Fortunately, she didn’t see me, or at least I don’t think she did. Something else to worry about. I found my way back to the shop, and went inside. Paul was already measuring wood to be cut.

"Good morning Joan," he said to me. I smiled at him and wished him a good morning as well. Mr. Ferris was nowhere to be seen. I decided that rather than wait for him to arrive, I’d grab the sandpaper and start in where I’d left off yesterday. A while later I heard Mr. Ferris yell a good morning to me over the sound of the power machinery. Thankfully, he called me "Joan."

Being Joan was easier in a lot of ways, but I found myself more wary of everyone and everything than I had ever been before. No, I wasn’t being paranoid, just cautious. Lunch time arrived and I quickly downed my sandwich. I decided to go for a quick walk. OK, so it wasn’t about the walk. I wanted a cigarette and I’m beyond positive that Mr. Ferris would not have permitted it. I walked two blocks up the street (away from Sarah’s) and back again. It was time to get back to work.

"Mr. Ferris!" I called out upon his return. "Could I talk to you for a minute?" He sauntered over to me and asked what he could do for me.

"Is everything all right?" he asked. I smiled at him and told him "absolutely." His expression said: "what then?" I told him about my plan to make and sell custom made jewelry boxes. He looked at me like I was nuts.

"Do you think you could help me decide on what tools I’d need and what they might cost?" I asked him.

"Joan, the required tools will cost more than you’re going to earn this summer. If you’re serious about doing this, I’ll rent you the use of my tools," he said solemnly. I gave him a look of disappointment. "Joan, you’ll need a table saw, a router, a sander, a proper work table, clamps and a lot of other things. Why don’t you take me up on my offer and then if it looks like it’s something you want to continue, I’ll help you plan out a nice beginner’s workshop." I couldn’t possibly argue with his logic and thanked him for his suggestion.

Soon, my sanding was finished for the day. My "work week" was now officially half over. I said my farewells to Paul and Mr. Ferris and found myself once again going out of my way to avoid someone. There was no way I’d be pedaling past Sarah’s house again. I wondered to myself briefly if I was a coward? Once again, I found myself at Darla’s front door. Once again Aunt Viv answered and told me that the girls had gone to the beach for the day. My face fell and Aunt Viv asked me if I wanted to come in for a cup of coffee. I wasn’t sure if I was really there to see Darla or her. As I’d done yesterday, I cleaned myself up and made my way to the kitchen.

"So, how’s the new job going?" she asked me. I told her all about my new job and explained that I hoped to be working on her jewelry box soon. She smiled at that and told me that there wasn’t any rush.

"You really want one though, right?" I asked her. She gave me a puzzled expression and asked me how I could possibly doubt it. "I plan on using a slightly different design," I told her. Again, she eyed me quizzically. "I just mean that I’m going to put your secret compartment in a different place." I told her.

"What secret compartment?" she asked.

"Ahhh, nevermind!" I said laughing. I doubted that Darla would want to share that bit of information with her mother.

"Did you check out any of those websites that I suggested?" she asked. I told her I was sorry but I hadn’t yet had the opportunity. "By the way, you look very pretty today Joan," she added. I blushed slightly at her comment and thanked her. "How’re things at home?" she asked in mind reading mode.

Did she know about Dad leaving us? It certainly seemed as if she did. So, I replied, "not so good." She didn’t say anything but simply waited for me to continue. I poured my heart out to her leaving nothing out.

"I’m so sorry Joan," she said at last. "I just want you to know one thing," she stated finally. I knew what she was going to say before she said it and she didn’t disappoint me. "It’s not your fault," she said at last. Logically, I knew that was true, but what if it wasn’t? Had it been my fault that Dad and I weren’t closer? How could he simply abandon me like this if it wasn’t my fault? I couldn’t help my reaction. I started crying. Not wailing like a baby, just weeping softly. I fought back the tears. Aunt Viv made no move towards me. A look of anger swept over her face. Was she angry with me?

"Joan, what your father has done is inconceivable. It’s really not your fault. You are truly a loving person and any parent would be proud of you." I almost believed her, but I still found myself thinking if that were true, then why? Why did he do this to me? "So," she said changing the topic, "how do you like being a girl full time?" For a moment, I looked at her like she was nuts. Did I magically morph while I slept last night?

Knowing that sarcasm wouldn’t be appreciated, I replied, "I’m just me being me." She smiled at that and let it go for now. I was grateful. I wasn’t up for any more introspection that afternoon. I thanked Aunt Viv for the coffee and her company and bade her goodbye.

"You can stop over anytime sweetheart," she said. My next words gave her pause.

"Do you mean that?" I asked.

"Joan, if I didn’t mean it, I wouldn’t have said it." I found myself giving her a tearful hug before beginning my ride home.

"Woof!" Shandy beckoned as she heard me approach the front door. How could she have heard my bicycle approach, I wondered? I opened the door and she was all over me. I was beyond grateful that she was there for me. "Come on girl, let’s go outside," I beckoned her to the back door. She flew passed me onto her hallowed ground. I sat at the table and waited for her to finish. With each passing day I was becoming more comfortable with being myself. An odd thought to have, I considered. "OK girl, I have to go and see what’s on the menu for today," I told her. She didn’t understand what I was saying, but I could tell she appreciated the fact that I was talking to her and her alone.

The menu called for steak and potatoes. I smiled as I considered that no meal could be easier to prepare. Except for the potatoes, I wouldn’t have to start cooking till about 5:45. Hell, the steaks cooked so fast on the grill, I decided to wait until Mom got home to put them on. I made us a couple of salads and ran upstairs to start sorting laundry. With a load in and another ready when that was done, I gave some thought to the overall cleaning situation. I filled up a bucket and began washing the windows. With all of the inside windows finished I wondered whether or not to enter Dad’s inner sanctum (home office) and wash the windows in there as well.

I stood outside the closed door and found myself "wishing" him there. I took a deep breath and opened the door. The room was empty. There were no signs that the room had ever been occupied. I sat down in the middle of the room, on the hardwood floor, and wept copiously. Somehow, I had to get past these feelings. I decided that I’d offer up the room as good news to Mom. Hey Mom! Great news! We have a new room in the house! Any thoughts as to how we should use it? I was half-serious in my decision as I finished washing the windows and exited my father’s former home office.
I closed the door upon exiting, not wishing to give the space any further consideration.

With the potatoes cooking I made my way into the backyard to fire up the grill. Six o’clock was rapidly approaching. I decided that the dining room and candles were in order for the evening. Maybe a change of scenery would do us both some good. I carefully set the table and waited for Mom to arrive. Six o’clock came and went without any word. At six thirty, I began to worry. I dialed her cell phone and urged her (in my mind) to pick up as it continued to ring. At last I heard her loving voice.

"Joan, I’m so sorry," she said to me. Her words gave me both relief and added worry.

"Sorry for what Mom?" I asked her.

"I had to work late and forgot to call. I’m on my way home now and will be there in ten minutes," she said. Relief washed over me.

"It’s ok Mom, see you in a few," I said and ended the call.

Once again I found myself wondering just what the hell I’d ever do without my Mom. Could I care for myself? Of course I could. The world at large, however, would not permit a not-quite fourteen year old to care for herself. Who then, if not Mom? Dad? Absolutely not, I reasoned. Aunt Alice? Probably not. Aunt Melissa? I had no intentions of leaving the good old USA. All of these thoughts made me worry for Mom even more. I shook my head violently in an attempt to NOT turn into a total basket case and put the steaks on the grill. The potatoes were done and I turned the temperature down to the keep warm level. I made Mom her drink. I still felt somewhat guilty as I realized that a bit of the "gin" was actually water. With that in mind, I made her drink "extra" strong.

Mom arrived and I ran to the front door to greet her. I gave her a huge hug. She had no idea why I was giving way to such an extreme show of emotion.

I looked her in the eyes and whispered, "I’m just so glad you’re home." She seemed to understand and made her way into the kitchen. Seeing nothing laid out she looked at me questioningly. "The dining room," was all I said. She chuckled a bit and made her way into the room. I brought Mom her drink and an ashtray. I ran into the backyard to check the steaks. I flipped them and ran back inside. Mom smiled at me as I sat down.

"I’m really sorry for not calling," she said before I could say anything.

"It’s ok Mom, just don’t let it happen again!" I admonished. Her smile widened as she told me not to worry that it would never happen again.

As we ate, I asked her about her day. I did my best to pay attention, but honestly it was all over my head. Not to mention, and I hate to admit this, but I didn’t really care. I was however, beyond glad that she was here: alive and well: whew! She wound up asking me if I liked my new job and I found myself replying that.. "a job’s a job." I went on to tell her that while I loved working with wood, I didn’t see myself being a professional sander. That, at least, got a laugh out of her. As I cleared the table I asked her if she’d like her dessert in the dining room or in front of the television.

Honestly, I had nothing planned, but I was sure I could find something "sweet" to serve up. She demurred and told me that coffee in the living room would be nice. I began brewing a half-pot and finished cleaning up the dishes.

"Is it ok if I go out with Aunt Alice this evening?" she asked me. I was totally taken aback by her question. Mom was asking me "my" permission to do something? I was beyond amazed.

"Just don’t stay out too late," I told her sternly. She laughed at that as I’d intended. She made her way upstairs to get herself ready for her evening out. Hell, it was only Tuesday, where on earth could she be headed?

She descended the stairs looking radiant and my smile was all the approval she required.

"I should be home by 11:00 PM," she informed me. "If I’m not, I’ll be sure to call, OK sweetheart?"

"Thanks Mom," was all I could think to say. With that she was out the door. The clock neared eight as I wondered what to do with the rest of my evening. I really wished that I had an opportunity to spend some time with Darla. Why was I suddenly feeling so alone? I briefly thought about ringing Sam, but hey, my Mom had just headed over there and besides, if Sam wanted to talk to me, he knew my phone number.

I decided to check out some of the websites that Aunt Vivian had provided. I’m not sure if I felt better or worse when I was finished. The problems that were facing me seemed to grow out of proportion the more that I read. This would happen, that would happen… sighs… I almost felt overwhelmed by the time I was finished. When I stumbled across the "Harry Benjamin Standards of Care," I was outraged. It seemed for me to feel as I did made me ipso facto, "seriously mentally ill." Thanks Doc… I thought as I shut down the web browser. This isn’t hard enough without being considered mentally ill….. damn!

Finally, at almost 9 PM Sam called. "Joan! How are you?" he asked me as I picked up the receiver. I wanted to tell him that I felt miserable and disconsolate, but instead I said nothing. Silence filled the airwaves as moment after moment passed. "Let’s go for a walk," he said when he couldn’t take the silence any longer. I’m not sure why that suggestion lifted my spirits, but it did.

Ten minutes later I was decked out in my blue pleated skirt with one of my new tops and just the right amount of makeup on my face. I waited patiently for Sam to arrive. Another five minutes passed and I was beginning to get annoyed. Finally, at 9:30 Sam showed up as though he was on time. I briefly considered not opening the front door at all. At 20 minutes late I locked the front door so Sam couldn’t just come waltzing in. I’d run like a maniac to be ready and then? Then nothing: I was pissed!

"Well, if it isn’t the late Samantha Peters," I said upon opening the door. He simply glared at me. "It’s too late now Sam, I’m going to bed," I said closing the door before he could enter.

I waited ten minutes till I was sure that he’d gone. Damn, I really did want to see him. I considered calling and giving my apologies for my earlier behavior. No! I wasn’t going to do that. He should know better than to keep a lady waiting. Grrrrrrrrrr! I also considered calling Darla. What was wrong with me? Couldn’t I handle simple set-backs any longer? I stepped outside, locked the front door and headed for the boardwalk. Well, after I’d left a note on the refrigerator telling Mom that I’d be home by eleven. My stride was purposeful. I’m still not sure what my actual purpose was though. I found myself in need of serious diversion. The lights,, the sounds, the action! Summer was in full swing as my feet assaulted the boards.

As soon as I hit the boards all of my worries slipped away. This truly was a magical place. I stopped and lit one of my Virginia slims with supreme confidence and continued my quest. I found myself on a bench across from the arcade with the cheap ski ball games. I sat there smoking and watching the passers by. A few boys ventured by but my glare kept them at bay. I finished my cigarette and made my way to the cheap games. I changed a dollar for dimes and walked over to the machines. Sam had already beaten me there. I stood in the background unnoticed and watched him play. He was good. I wasn’t sure if I could beat him in a "head to head" contest. Still, I could handle the doubt. Probably better than Sam himself could.

Having watched Sam roll another 400 game, I deposited my dime in the machine next to his own. Did he even know I was there? I ignored him totally as the nine balls arrived for me to play. I picked the first one up and gently set it on its course. It carefully dropped in the innermost circle. The next seven balls did the same. I’d never before rolled a perfect game. I knew that Sam knew I was there at that point. He never said a word. I hefted the last ball slowly from its place. My eyes opened and closed involuntarily. I measured the arc with great care before releasing the ball up the alley. It slid quietly into the 50 point slot. My first perfect game ever! Before I could react, Sam spun me around and lifted me off the ground. "You did it!"

I forgot that I was mad at him. I was grateful for his hug and his acceptance of my prowess at the game. "Oh Joan!" he said at last. "I’m so glad you showed up." Did he know that I was going to be here? I wish he would have told me! I collected the unwieldy amount of coupons that exited the machine. He kissed me possessively as I attempted to gather my wits as well as my coupons. A perfect game. Damn… should I ever play this game again? Perhaps it would be best to end on a high note? Lol… yea yea yea, I know that the odds were overwhelmingly against me should I continue to play, so I didn’t.

"Want to go for a walk Sam?" I asked. Rather than attempting to match my score. Hell, he couldn’t beat it, he readily agreed. It was pitch black outside as we made our way to the beach. A few suitors quietly stalked me, but Sam’s glare kept them away. I was greatly relieved. And while none of them scared me, I was grateful that I didn’t have to deal with them.

Before he could say anything, I said, "I love you Sam," as we made our way down to the beach. He didn’t respond at all. I was glad that he didn’t. We silently made our way to the waves. As we grew near, the sounds of the boardwalk completely faded away. All we could hear was the sound of the crashing surf. I swung my hand, firmly locked with his, like a mad-woman possessed. He looked at me expectantly. I smiled at him. "I love you Sam," I said again. He seemed both delighted and befuddled by my statements. We continued onward.

As we were walking beside the ocean, Sam pulled me up short and said: "I love you Joan!" For some reason, this declaration meant more than any other he’d made up to that point. My heart as well as my spirit melted at his words. I felt like a puppet in the hands of a very skilled puppeteer. I simply smiled at him as I wrapped my arms around him and waited for his kiss and his embrace.

We slowly made our way back home. Damn, I loved this person. If I had one wish, it would be to have Sam’s babies. I had a reasonably firm grip on reality and knew that I’d never be having anyone’s babies. That fact left me inordinately depressed. Why had I been born male and Sam female? I felt like screaming. I would have if I thought it’d have done any good. Before I knew it, I was standing in front of my house. Sam kissed me again and again: his kisses taking me to a safer place. "Tomorrow darling?" I begged. He continued holding my hand as he slowly walked away. With only our fingertips touching, he stopped for the briefest of moments.

"Tomorrow sweetheart," he said and was gone.

Notes:

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Synopsis:

Joan devises some special plans for a certain room in the house.

Story:

Chapter 3

Day by Day

Wednesday morning arrived and I began to worry. Things were just moving along too perfectly. Experience had taught me that the only true law was "Murphy’s Law." I finished taking my shower and got dressed. Today I was wearing my red skort. A bit showy perhaps, but I didn’t have a lot of choices. Besides, I’d discovered yesterday that the skort was perfect work wear. Especially in this warm weather. Still, I was going to need a few more of them if I wanted to avoid wearing "John’s" clothes. And yes, I’m aware that the clothes don’t make the woman!

Breakfast eaten, lunch made, I decided to check my appearance one last time before heading out the door. In for a penny, in for a pound I thought as I applied a coat of mascara to my lashes. I only wished I could wear my bra and had something to actually put in the cups besides breast forms. The ride to the shop was routine and the work day passed without incident. Paul tried to get friendly, but I felt uncomfortable under the circumstances and remained friendly but aloof. Somehow, I don’t think Mr. Ferris would approve of Paul and I becoming friends. I hadn’t seen Mrs. Ferris since I started work. I seriously wondered if I owed my job to her.

Without thinking, I rode by Sarah’s house on the way home. Did she see me? Was I becoming a complete paranoid? What was I so worried about? Hell, she already thought of me as Joan and had attempted to make my life more difficult at every turn. Maybe with her and Darla’s reconciliation she wouldn’t view me as a threat? Still, I’m sure that no matter what happened she’d know that I thought her a total creep. Some feelings you just can’t hide.

I was home by three o’clock. In a lot of ways it was like arriving home after a school day. Just a few weeks ago I’d been bounding through the door and announcing, "Mom, I’m home!" Now it was just me and the dog. There were benefits and drawbacks to both. I went into the backyard to check on Shandy. She seemed happy to see me. There’s something special about a cocker spaniel’s expression. No matter how happy she might be, her eyes always displayed a certain sadness. I sat at the picnic table and sorted through the mail. I’d been checking it diligently all week. I knew it was crazy to have done so as early as last Monday but, I was waiting for word from the bank. Finally, it had arrived. A single business sized envelope addressed to Joan Clara Johnson. I sat there holding the envelope in front of me. My hands were actually shaking in anticipation. I ripped the envelope to shreds and marveled at the blue plastic card inside with my name embossed in plastic.

I felt absolutely giddy! The bank, at least, recognized me as Joan Clara Johnson. Hmmm? JC Johnson? Jesus Christ? It made no sense at all but I was truly overwhelmed. Visions of purchases danced in my head. I had originally planned on saving most, if not all of my earnings. Now? Now I had a million different ideas of how to use the money. I had an irresistible urge to do some shopping. Before I knew it, I was surfing through the web sites on a furious shopping spree. OK, so I kept the spending under a hundred dollars. Bought everything from the clearance pages and ordered only what I deemed were necessities.

Would Mom be proud of my purchases or annoyed with me for having made them? Given my very limited amount of funds I swore to never yield to such temptation again. Still, I smiled in anticipation as I considered my purchases. Three new skorts, color-coordinated v-necked tops, a cute beach dress and some pantyhose. All for a hundred dollars! Part of me whispered, "Joan, you’ve lost your mind." If I had simply waited, I’m sure I could have convinced Mom to make the purchases for me. Still, I wouldn’t have enjoyed the experience nearly as much.

I got out the vacuum cleaner and went over all the ground floor without shuffling furniture about. I paused sadly outside the office door. I wasn’t sure I’d ever enter that room again. I began thinking about it and decided the best way to put it to rest was to totally redo the room. I hadn’t mentioned it to Mom at all. I doubted that she’d been in there. Just one more way to spend my money, I sighed as I continued to make my plans. On the top of the list: pink paint. I was going to turn Dad’s home office into a sewing room. I hoped Mom would be pleasantly surprised. I’d pick up the paint tomorrow after work at Hospin’s, the local paint store, down on Main Street.

It was nearing four thirty as I checked out the menu for the evening. I preheated the oven and got the chicken ready. Yes, I was pushing it time wise, but I didn’t think Mom would be overly upset if we didn’t eat until six thirty. I found myself somewhat elated. I was thinking about my clothes, my sewing room plans, my new account, my Sam! It seemed life was good and getting better. In that moment I decided it was OK to smoke but I was going to have to seriously limit my intake of nicotine. Yes, I had those thoughts as I fought off the desire to yield and have a cigarette.

With dinner practically making itself, I turned my thoughts back to the sewing room. Mom used to make all of my clothes when I was a little kid. It all came to a halt when she made me a pair of velvet jeans. I must have been about eight at the time and I thought they were the coolest pants I’d ever seen. Everyone, and I mean everyone, laughed at me when I wore them to school. I still remember sitting on the floor in my bedroom with the remnants of my jeans in one hand and a pair of scissors in the other. I sat there with my tear soaked face and just cried and cried. Mom never made any more clothes for me after that.

I still felt bad about it. She used to love to sew. She took great pride in her work and was happy just to know that I appreciated the things she made for me. I hoped that my plans would make her happy. I was certain that she had her own demons to deal with. It didn’t take long for me to convince myself that she was going to just LOVE the new room!

Mom arrived home promptly at six o’clock. As I heard her walk in the front door I ran excitedly to greet her. "Mom!" I practically shouted "You’re home!" She smiled at me and looked at me like I was a nut case. I began babbling about my new debit card but didn’t tell her of the purchases I’d made. I shoved it in her face proudly as she sat at the table drinking her drink and smoking. "See?" I said for what must have been the fourth time "Right there it says Joan Clara Johnson."

She smiled but still a look of sadness swept over her face. "I’m so sorry John," was all she said. The roller coaster I was now riding entered a swift and sudden dip.

"What?" I all but yelled. Oh My God! What now? I wondered. I took a deep breath and said "What are you sorry for Mom?" I think I was more unnerved that she’d called me "John" than anything else.

She eyed me as only a mother could and replied, "Nothing sweetheart, it’s all right." I so wanted to believe her, that I did, and let the matter pass.

We finished dinner and I gave in to the urge to smoke as the oven racks soaked in the sink and the dish washer performed its magic. I so wanted to tell her about my plans for the office hoping that it would cheer her up. I finally decided that it would work better as a surprise, and in the end I said nothing.

"So, I see you’ve worn both of your skorts to work already," she said at last. "I guess you’re going to need some more clothes then?"

"I have all that I need Mom, for now," I assured her. I smiled as I said it and visions of green velvet jeans danced in my head.

"What are you up to this evening?" she asked.

"I thought I’d get together with Sam," I replied "But do you want to do anything?" Finally what appeared to be a genuine smile crossed her face.

"No sweetheart, you and Sam go and have a good time." I found myself beyond worried for my mother’s own sense of well being.

"Thanks Mom," I said as I continued cleaning the kitchen.

At seven thirty I called Sam and asked him just when he was coming over. He laughed his booming laugh and told me not to worry that he’d be over momentarily.

I replied, "Yea yea yea, where have I heard that before?" He laughed again and told me to just keep my skirt on.

"How do you know I’m wearing a skirt?" I asked insincerely.

"Just shut up Joan, I’ll be right there." Five minutes later he made his way through the front door as though it was his own. "Hi Joan, Hi Aunt Joan," he said upon entering. Sam grew more masculine by the day. Pretty soon he’d need a nose hair trimmer (ha ha.) God, how I loved this person! Nothing seemed impossible with Sam by my side. Sometimes I found myself worrying that it would all turn sour somehow. Was it normal to worry about such things? Damn, what was wrong with me?

"How did your practice go?" I asked sincerely. Sam went off on a diatribe about pitching. He told me with some pride that he’d been chosen to throw batting practice, but instead of letting them "just hit the ball," had thrown each and every pitch beyond the capabilities of the batters to make contact. After the fourth batter gave up in disgust, Sam was relieved of the responsibility.

"No pitcher worth his salt wants to pitch batting practice," he informed me. I found myself with conflicting thoughts. I could hit Sam’s pitching, couldn’t I? As happy as I was for him, I felt just another part of my innermost self slipping away. Part of me hated him for it, and blamed him for my own inadequacies. I was half-tempted to tell him that I could hit anything he had to throw. While that had been true just a short time earlier, I doubted that it was anymore. Sam sensed my frustration.

"What’s wrong Joan?" he asked.

What could I say that would make any sense? "Nothing Sam," I replied. I sat there and recognized my behavior for what it was. I was jealous.

"Give me a minute and let’s go for a walk," I pleaded. I made my way up to the bathroom. I wasthisclose to losing it all. I just wanted to cry. While a whole new world had opened up for me, another had shut the door. I convinced myself that none of it mattered and reapplied my makeup. I viewed myself confidently as I exited the bathroom.

"Where are you dragging me?" Sam asked.

"I thought we’d take a walk down Main Street," I replied.

I didn’t tell him of my desire to check out the paint store to see just what I was going to need to do the job. How many gallons of paint, what paint in particular, and what other tools I’d need: paint brushes, rollers, edgers, and the like. Friday was going to be "painting day!"

"Why are we standing in front of Hospin’s?" Sam asked.

Should I tell him of my plans to redecorate my father’s former office? I decided to do just that and to inform Sam that he’d be assisting me in my task.

"Are you sure you want to do that Joan? What if your Dad comes back?"

"He’s not coming back Sam. It seems Dad has made a new life for himself in a far off land: New Jersey." I nearly broke down as I relayed this bit of news.

"New Jersey?" Sam asked incredulously. "Why would anyone move to New Jersey?" The absurdity of that happening sent Sam into a fit of laughter. It seemed inappropriate, but his laughter was infectious. We stood there laughing and said the words "New Jersey" over and over again in complete synchronization till they lost all meaning.

"Come on Sam, you can help me decide on the color. One thing though, it has to be a shade of pink. It’s mom’s favorite and Dad would never let her paint the walls of any room pink." I could have probably dragged him more easily into a dress shop.

"Can I help you Miss?" said Mr. Hospin himself as I entered the store.

"I hope so," I replied casually. I then went on to explain my project. He asked me what color the room was currently when determining the amount of paint that I’d need. When I told him that the current color was some shade of "off white," he smiled and told me that one coat should do the trick.

We spent some time going over the color charts. The room was large enough to handle a bold shade of pink. A paler version simply wouldn’t accomplish the "change" that I was going after. After deciding on the color named appropriately, "Salmon," I asked just what else I’d be needing. Mr. Hospin went to great lengths in helping me compile a list. He was however, beyond annoyed when I didn’t make the purchases then and there. I did my best to assure him that I’d return tomorrow afternoon to complete my order.

He seemed so crestfallen that I actually explained just why I couldn’t take the items now. "I’m doing it as a surprise for my Mom," I said at last. That calmed him down considerably. He told me that he’d see me tomorrow afternoon and bade us farewell.

Yeah, I was going to be "saving my money," I thought cynically. If I bought everything he suggested the cost would be close to seventy five dollars. I had to check out just what we had at home before heading over there tomorrow. I completely convinced myself that Mom was going to love the new room.

I felt elated as we left the store. "You are going to help me, aren’t you Sam?"

"I’m still not convinced this is such a good idea," he said. "What if your Mom hates it? All that time, work, and money out the window. I really think you should discuss this with her first"

His advice while eminently logical had no effect on me. I was going to make this happen. If I discussed it first with Mom, then it wouldn’t be a "surprise." She’d probably come up with a zillion reasons as to why we should just leave the room as it was. No, this room was going to be my gift to her. The change would be drastic enough to wipe away any memory of the bastard that had inhabited it previously: My Dad! Suddenly I found myself in manic-depressive mode. I’d been higher than a kite moments before and now I was a blithering, whimpering idiot.

"What’s the matter Joan?" He asked as he wrapped his arms around me protectively.

I almost got mad at him for not knowing intuitively why I was so upset. My tenuous grip on reality was strong enough that I knew I couldn’t blame Sam for not understanding. I cried and shook, and shook and cried just two words over and over: "My Dad!" He held me tight right there in the middle of Main Street. Rubbing my back, he whispered warm and soothing words in my ears.

"Don’t worry about it Joan, I’ll help you. It’ll be perfect. You were absolutely right, it’s a great idea," he murmured with conviction.

I fought my way back to sanity and we began walking again. Sam looked so damned handsome this evening. I truly was the luckiest girl in the world. Without even asking, he began walking towards the ocean. With my fingers firmly entwined in his, I had no choice but to follow his lead. We entered the boardwalk at the intersection of Ocean Boulevard. The difference was like night and day. I’d never get over my love for the ocean.

"Are you hungry?" Sam asked. Once again Sam offered his cure for all ails: Food! "Would you like some ice cream?"

I really wasn’t hungry, but didn’t see how a chocolate twist could hurt. I smiled in assent at his question and we made our way to Coor’s Ice Cream stand. We sat on one of the benches staring blankly out to sea as we devoured our confections. One hand on my cone and the other in his warm embrace. I slowly began to feel better about everything. We finished up and began treading the boards.

As we walked hand in hand, Sam reminded me: "You know Joan if you’re going to enter the ski ball contest, you’d better do it now."

I hadn’t realized just how fast the Fourth of July was approaching. Thinking of all the money I’d spent or planned to spend just today, I decided that perhaps wasting ten dollars on the entrance fee was an extravagance I couldn’t afford. Sam sensed my uneasiness about parting with more cash.

"Don’t worry Joan, I’ve got your entrance fee," he said while smiling at me.

"But Sam, you’re going to put up your own money so I can beat you at ski ball?" I replied while laughing.

A punch to the shoulder was in order but Sam just squeezed my hand tighter as we made our way to the arcade. Could I let him do this? I still had no idea how much Sam’s allowance was, but like Darla, he never seemed short for cash.

"All right Sam, I’ll let you pay the buy in. But, when I win, we will share equally in the prize. Deal?" I asked. Sam did his best to remind me that I need not worry about winning. He planned on winning himself and would decide what to do with his prize when the feat was accomplished. I gave him a smile that conveyed the message: "don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched."

With the entrance fee paid, we decided to roll one game of ski ball. A quarter a game just seemed excessive to me. I was determined to make the most out of the investment. When the game was finished Sam and I had tied each other’s score. Sam wanted to play again to determine a winner, but I not-too-gently pulled him away from the machines.

We walked about lazily for a bit before heading back home. Once again we stood outside my front door. Sam no longer seemed to care if our parents were watching. We stood there holding each other for the longest time. I gently ran my hands through his short locks. I found myself adrift in the pool of his deep blue eyes. He pulled my head to his chest and held me there. Time stood still in his embrace.

"I miss you Sam," I said and meant it.

He looked at me inquisitively. Hadn’t we just spent the entire evening together? Then he smiled and replied, "I miss you too."

I stood there watching him as he made his way across the street and inside. A happy thought occurred to me. I waltzed in the door announcing, "Mom, I’m home!"

"Good. You’re here. I was beginning to get worried about you."

"Worried about me? Mom, it’s not even ten o’clock!"

Realizing that she was overreacting she backtracked and said, "Well, it is a work night, isn’t it?"

I laughed and gave her a hug. I then told her about our evening at the boardwalk. I so wanted to tell her about my painting plans, but was determined for it to be a surprise.

"Mom, Joan entered the Fourth of July ski ball contest," I said proudly.

"So, now you’re referring to yourself in the third person?" She asked and laughed.

"No, Mom, I didn’t mean it like that," I attempted to explain.
"It’s all right Joan, I understand. I was just teasing you a bit."

We talked for a few minutes longer and then I remembered that I had some things to check out before heading to bed. I made my way into the basement and checked out the paint supplies. Whew! I wouldn’t be needing any ceiling white or any trim white. We had all the necessary tools for the job with the exception of some paint rollers. That meant all I needed was a couple of gallons of paint. Yes! I exclaimed aloud.

I decided that I’d locate mom’s sewing machine tomorrow when I got home. I think she’d tucked it away in the back of her closet. I wanted the room to be perfect when she viewed it on Friday. I was literally bubbling with excitement.

"Joan," my mother stopped me as I ascended the stairs to get ready for bed.

"Come here for a minute," she said in a gentle manner as opposed to the commanding voice she used when ordering me in front of her.

I slowly made my way into the living room wondering if she had guessed my plans to redecorate the office. I stood in front of her waiting; silently and expectantly.

"Don’t look so worried," she laughed. "I just wanted to tell you that it "is" the summer and you’re going to be fourteen in a few weeks. You don’t have to be in bed till eleven.

Was she saying that hoping that I’d sit and spend some more time with her? I hadn’t had a nap in a few days and I was feeling kind of tired. I found myself thinking that it was school that made me want to sleep. I chuckled at the thought.

"Thanks Mom. I really appreciate it. But, it’s been a long day and I think I’m going to turn in unless you wanted to talk some more?"

"That’s all right sweetheart. You go and get some rest. A girl needs her beauty sleep." I half expected her to laugh with that last comment but she offered it up seriously.

"Good night Mom," I said as I hugged and kissed her. I hoped she knew just how important she was to me. I made my way up to my room and Shandy followed closely behind.

"You didn’t get enough attention today, girl?" I asked her. She looked up at me and seemed to smile as her tail began wagging. I opened my door and before I could hit the light switch Shandy jumped up on my bed and rolled over. I gently stroked her belly and cooed at her. The look in her eyes expressed unconditional love.

"I love you too girl," I said and bade her goodnight.

I finished getting ready for bed, set my alarm clock, and found myself drifting off in Josam’s embrace.

"Joan, are you there?" a disembodied voice called to me. "Help me!" it exclaimed. I searched for the location of the voice. I couldn’t see anything. I couldn’t tell who it was calling me. "Help me!" It implored only this time much louder than before. Although it was a warm summer’s evening, I began shivering. I sensed total desperation in its plea. Something about that voice was hauntingly familiar. I reached over and turned on my light. Suddenly the room fell silent. I actually got out of bed and checked everywhere: under the bed, in the closet, out the window. Everywhere! I finally convinced myself that I must have been dreaming. I crawled back into bed and turned out the light. I half expected the whole episode to play itself out all over again. It didn’t. I cautiously fell back to sleep.

Thursday passed in a blur. I was beyond pleasantly surprised when Mr. Ferris handed me five crisp twenty dollar bills at the end of my shift.

"Now, don’t spend it all in one place," he chuckled. "Oh, and Joan, I just wanted to say you’ve done a great job this week. Don’t forget, I expect you here at nine o’clock sharp on Monday morning.

"I won’t Mr. Ferris," I replied as I put the money in my purse. He eyed me curiously as I did that but made no comment. If he had, I’d have replied, "A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do."

I was glad for the money. This way I wouldn’t have to worry about asking Mr. Hospin if he accepted debit cards. I was pretty sure that he was going to be a bit disappointed that I wouldn’t be needing all the items he’d suggested last evening. I pedaled joyfully to the paint store. I was absolutely certain that Mom was going to love her new room.

I entered the store as I’d done last evening. "Hi, Mr. Hospin," I said.

He looked at me as if he had no idea who I was. I was dressed more shabbily than I’d been last night. I guessed that was the reason for the confused look on his face.

"I was in here last night?" I reminded him. He looked thoughtful for a moment and then a twinkle appeared in his eyes.

"Ah yes! The salmon paint. A surprise for your mother. My, but you looked quite different last night," he intoned. I laughed and told him I was just coming home from work.

" I didn’t realize there were any coal mines on the oceanfront," he said chuckling. "You are an industrious young lady. Your parents must be very proud." As soon as he’d said it, I could tell that he had regrets. He knew somehow that I was living alone with my mother.

"I’m sorry dear," he said as my eyes welled up with tears.

"It’s all right Mr. Hospin."

"Are you going to be needing all the items we discussed then?" He asked. I then explained that I’d only be needing the two gallons of paint and appropriate rollers. He didn’t seem disappointed at all as he rang up my purchases.

I hadn’t even made it home yet and I was already down to sixty dollars and change. I placed one gallon on each side of my handlebars and tied the rollers and the paint mixers to the back. I just knew this was all going to work out perfectly! I pulled my bike into the back yard and took the paint in through the kitchen. If Mom hadn’t been working all these extra hours, there’s no way I’d have been able to do this.

I stood anxiously in the office holding the two gallons of paint. At length, I placed the paint and the other materials far back in the corner of the closet. I’d never painted with a roller before. How hard could it be? I knew I was good with a brush. In fact, the last time any painting had been done, I was the one assigned to do the trim. I was a lot more careful with a brush than my father had ever been.

I checked out the menu for the evening. There was nothing listed. I guessed that meant that we’d be eating leftovers. There was more than enough chicken for another meal. I was glad as I now had time to scope out Mom’s sewing tools. I found her discarded mannequin in a corner of the basement. It was sitting atop the table that used to accommodate her sewing machine. The room would need one more item. An item I had no way of obtaining on just my bicycle. A full length mirror would be needed behind the office door.

I really needed to make a list of weekly chores. As it was, I was just doing whatever came to mind on the spur of the moment. I’d done all the inside windows yesterday. I decided to get the step ladder and do the ground floor exterior windows. I hoped Mom appreciated the effort that I was making. Before heading outside, I stripped the beds and put the linens in the wash. I was becoming a regular Suzy Homemaker. The fact of the matter was, I took pride in my ability to help. Really help, not just take out the trash when the can was full. I was still working on the windows outside when Mom came pulling up the driveway. Where had the afternoon gone?

"Joan, what are you doing up there?" Mom asked from ground level.

"What does it look like I’m doing? Do you think these windows clean themselves?" I asked her with mock sincerity.

She laughed in reply and simply said, "You shouldn’t have."

I left Mom to fend for herself and finished the ground floor windows. After I’d put the ladder away and cleaned out the pail I went back inside. Mom was busily re-heating our dinner.

"You did a lovely job Joan. There’s not a streak on any of the windows!" She praised me as if I’d just invented sliced bread.

"Thanks Mom, anything I can do to help," I told her sincerely.

She told me about her day as we sat at the table. She asked me how I planned spending my money and my long weekend off. Could I tell her that I’d already spent one hundred and forty dollars of the hundred I’d earned? I laughed at the thought. That sounded a bit too much like government accounting.

"I guess I’ll save some of it Mom," I told her.

"Some of it? Just what are you going to do with a hundred dollars?" she gasped. The way she said it, it sounded like all the money in the universe. I laughed aloud at the reality of the situation.

On consideration she laughed with me and said, "I guess you’re right. A hundred dollars doesn’t buy much these days."

"Since you’re now gainfully employed, you won’t be expecting your allowance for the rest of the summer, will you?" She asked. I wouldn’t WHAT??? I did the quick mental math and kissed two hundred and forty dollars goodbye.

"I guess not Mom," I said dejectedly.

"Now, don’t be like that Joan. You know that money’s tight right now and that extra twenty a week will certainly help out around here." I had no idea that things were this bad. Wasn’t Dad helping out with his end? Didn’t the law require that he provide for me at least financially? Had he run out on that obligation too?

"I’m sorry Mom. I wasn’t thinking." Try as I might, I couldn’t get the thought of feeling sorry for myself out of my mind. I shook my head from side to side in an attempt to clear it.

And then I remembered. It was Thursday evening. I was supposed to go over to Darla’s this evening. Did she remember? Would Sam be angry? Somehow, I didn’t think Sam would be averse to me spending time with girls any longer. He now viewed me as one of them as I did proudly, myself.

"Mom, is it OK if I go over to Darla’s this evening? We made plans last weekend to see each other tonight and I simply forgot to ask you. In fact, I’m not really sure if Darla still remembers. Anyway, is it all right?"

"Of course it’s all right sweetheart. Just make sure that you’re home by ten."

I finished eating and cleaned up the kitchen. I was in a hurry as I bounded the stairs to call Darla up and ask her if she remembered our plans.

"Raspberry residence," said Darla upon answering. Now, I know she had caller ID so why was she answering the phone in such a formal manner? I thought for a moment that maybe she figured it was my mother calling and a more formal tone was required.

I made a "slurping" sound into the phone.

"Joan, what was that?" she asked.

"Why I was just blowing you a "raspberry." I replied and laughed. A moment of silence ensued. Oh crap! Had I insulted her? That really wasn’t my intention.

"Joan," she whispered seriously. "It’s not funny."

"I’m so sorry Darla," I began. "Can you ever forgive me?" I begged.

With that she burst into a fit of giggles. Oh my God! She was having me on!

"Darla you nasty little expletive deleted!" I screamed at her. She kept giggling and I finally joined in.

"So, did you forget our date for this evening?" I asked.

"No, I didn’t," she replied. "In fact, I expected you here half an hour ago."

"Darla, are you winding me up again?" Silence filled the airwaves yet again.

"OK," I said at last. "I’ll be there in half an hour, all right?"

She giggled into the phone one more time and told me that would be perfect. I hung up and ran like a madwoman into the bathroom. I hadn’t removed the sheets from the dryer. Fortunately, I’d put fresh linens on the beds. I washed my face and did my makeup as fast as I could.

My skorts were both dirty and I wasn’t about to go peddling over to her house wearing my blue pleated skirt. I tore through my dresser in search of a pair of cutoffs. Finding none, I opted for a pair of jeans. My GV jeans were clean. Whew! I quickly donned them and selected one of my new pink tops to wear. I decided to go all out. I ripped off the top, put on my bra, and put my breast forms in the cups. The v necked top looked a lot better when I was finished. I ran back into the bathroom and put a coat of pink on my lips. I really wanted to wear the dark red but I didn’t want to encounter any objections from my mother. I had less than ten minutes to get to Darla’s house.

I bade Mom farewell, grabbed my purse and retrieved my bike from the backyard. I pedaled furiously over to her house. I arrived with a minute to spare. I really hated to be late.

"Joan!" she exclaimed as I came up the driveway. "You really do need a girl’s bike," she said and laughed.

I thought about that for a moment. I’d never really considered the difference before. Suddenly, it hit me. The lower support bar was to make getting on and off easier while wearing a skirt.

"This bike’ll do just fine," I replied.

She ran over to me and gave me a hug which suggested we hadn’t seen each other in months.

"I’ve really missed you," she said urgently.

"Well, I was only a phone call away. Besides, I did stop over twice during the week to see you. You couldn’t have missed me too much as you weren’t here either time."

She laughed at that and told me that had she known I was coming that she’d have been there.

"What’s new with you?" I asked her.

"Shut up a minute and just let me look at you! You look quite grown up despite arriving by bicycle," she said and laughed.

"Why thank you Darla," I said and gave her air kisses on both of her cheeks.

She laughed again and beckoned me inside.

"What do you want to do? You want to go up to my room?" I looked about for any sign of parents. There was none.

"Joan, you don’t need to worry about permission. My parents have accepted you for who you are. You are more than welcome to come upstairs without an invitation from the Drs. Raspberry."

I wasn’t sure whether I should be relieved or dismayed. I decided that I liked feeling relieved better and went with that feeling. As we made our way up the stairs Darla took hold of my hand and began talking about all she’d been up to during the week.

"Where’s your cousin tonight?" I asked her.

"Dani went out shopping with Mom," she replied.

"You mean you voluntarily skipped a shopping trip?"

"I can go shopping anytime. I’d rather spend some time with you."

Her response had me blushing. I told her about my week. I didn’t leave out any details including how things were going with Sam and my plans to redecorate the former office tomorrow.

"Do you need any help?" she asked when I finished my tale.

I sure could use some help. Then, I thought about it. Sam and Darla together in the same room. How would that work out? Hell, it would have to be better than me in a room with Sam and Billy.

"I’d love some help. Do you know how to use a paint roller?" I asked her.

"Piece of cake," she replied and laughed. "Actually Joan, I’ve never done any painting but, I’ve seen it done often enough. It looks pretty simple to me."

We were in total agreement. I only hoped that we were both right. I spent the next half hour telling her about the new sewing room. I also told her the story of the "green velvet jeans" Mom made for me all those years ago. Tears welled up in my eyes as I finished.

"Thank you for sharing that with me. I had no idea." Her comment reassured me, but also made me wonder. She had no idea about what?

"What do you mean?" I asked sincerely.

"I mean, I had no idea that you’ve always been Joan. I thought that your metamorphosis had only recently taken place. It seems to me that based on your tale you’ve felt like a girl for most of your life. I’m only surprised that you never realized it."

I sat there in stunned silence. Had she been right? Had I been working towards this goal my whole life without even realizing it? I honestly wasn’t sure. Darla sat there waiting for me to say something.

"Maybe," was all I could manage.

"Joan, it’s all right. Don’t you see? I understand exactly what you’re going through. You thought that my becoming a girl was a personal tragedy. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Mom and Dad knew I was different. They could have just as easily kept me a boy. Sure, I’d be urinating through a prosthesis, but with the appropriate hormonal supplements I could have grown into some semblance of manhood. They knew that I’d be far happier this way. And, they were right."

My tears began flowing as I questioned every move I’d ever made up to this point in time. I really wasn’t sure about my past motivations. I only knew that I was now female. Unlike Darla’s situation, mine was a personal choice. I couldn’t imagine ever going back to being "John" again.

"It’s all right baby, you go ahead and cry," she whispered as my tears continued to spill. I was starting to become angry with myself. It seemed I cried at the drop of a hat anymore. I’d have to learn how to better control my emotions. I hoped that as all of this became more normal for me that the emotional swings would end.

Changing the subject I asked her, "Darla, do you know where I could get some cheap paintings?" I’d been studying the fine artwork on her walls as I asked her.

She laughed and replied, "Joan, those are NOT cheap paintings."

"I didn’t mean to imply that they were…" I said sincerely. Slowly my voice trailed off.

"It’s all right Joan," she said and laughed again. She stood up and began walking out of the room. I followed her down the stairs wordlessly. She led me down into the finished basement. Upon opening a small room at the bottom of the stairs I let out a gasp as I looked inside. There were literally stacks and stacks of oil paintings strewn about the room. I felt like I’d entered a miniature art gallery.

"Oh my God!" I said as I viewed the beautiful paintings.

"You like?" she asked and laughed again.

"Indeed I do," I said as I pored over the paintings. "But, why are you showing them to me?"

"I’ve got an idea," she said and told me to pick out two that I liked best.

"I couldn’t possibly, could I?"

"Just be quiet and pick out two of them," she said again.
I viewed the canvases carefully. A floral scene with roses of varying colors caught my eye. Another of a forest also made me swoon. I chose those two and waited to see what she had in mind.

"OK Darla, now what?" I asked her as I presented the two masterpieces for her inspection.

"You have excellent taste. My plan is simply this. You know that jewelry box you’ve promised my mother? You make it double the size of the original plan and build it out of oak. I think I can convince my mother that it’s a good deal."

The girl drove a hard bargain. I’m sure it was a good deal. I just wasn’t sure who was getting the better of it. The cost for materials alone for the box she suggested would surely cost me a pretty penny. I sighed and reluctantly accepted her offer.

"Can you bring the paintings with you tomorrow?" I begged. I wanted Mom’s room to be perfect for her initial inspection.

"Well, we have to clear this with my mother first. I’m pretty sure that she’ll go for it though. Mom changes the art in the house from time to time but I don’t recall ever seeing either of the paintings you’ve selected hanging anywhere in the house."

We made our way up to the kitchen. Darla poured us some coffee and we sat there drinking and smoking. She seemed quite surprised when I pulled my pack of smokes out of my purse. She smiled at me as we continued to talk of our plans for tomorrow.

Aunt Vivian and Danielle arrived home minutes later. Darla quickly jumped up and told her mother about the bargain that we’d made.

"Oh, those old things? I’ve been meaning to throw them out." She quickly regretted saying it. Her trash was my treasure.

"I’ll tell you what Joan," she said reconsidering. "You can have the paintings in exchange for your efforts on my jewelry box. I’ll leave the design to you. But, I absolutely insist on paying for any and all materials." I sighed audibly and thanked her profusely.

"Thanks Aunt Vivian," I said and ran over to give her a hug.

"So Darla? Can you bring the paintings over tomorrow?"

"Why don’t you take them now Joan?" Aunt Viv asked me.

At that point I was required to explain the entire situation and Mom’s surprise. Aunt Viv’s eyes lit up as I finished my tale.

"I’m sure she’s going to love it!" She stated emphatically.

I looked at the clock and noticed that time was running short. I had fifteen minutes to get my fanny home. That shouldn’t pose any problem since I had my bike with me.

"Nice to see you again Danielle," I said as I headed for the door. "Thanks again Aunt Viv," I added as an afterthought.

"So Darla, you’re going to be over by ten o’clock right?" I said laughing hopefully.

"Don’t worry Joan, I’ll be there."

She hugged me again and did the air kiss thing. It was beginning to become second nature to me as I returned the gesture. With a little more than ten minutes remaining, I pedaled homeward.

Notes:

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Synopsis:

Joan completes the planned renovations, but will Mom be pleased, angry, or simply annoyed with her?

Story:

Chapter 4

Whistle While You Work

Friday morning finally arrived. It was closing in on eight o’clock as I made my way downstairs. Mom wouldn’t be down for some time yet, so I put a pot of coffee on. It was a glorious day outside. A perfect day for painting! While the coffee perked, I ran down to the basement to assemble everything I was going to need. The ladder, drop cloths and such were gathered at the foot of the stairs. I hoped that Mom had no reason to enter the basement this morning.

I sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and a cigarette in hand. I began to carefully map out my day. Sam! I had forgotten about him. I quickly dialed his number and hoped that it wasn’t too early.

"Hello?" he said suspiciously into the phone.

"Sam! It’s great to hear your voice. You are coming over to help out this afternoon, aren’t you?"

"Anything for you Joan. I’ve got practice till two o’clock. I should be able to make it over there by three. Is that all right?"

"Well, I guess it’ll have to be," I said dejectedly. I knew I wasn’t being fair. Baseball was the most important thing in Sam’s life and I should be happy for him. I tried again.

"Sam, that’s fantastic! I’m sure we’ll be able to get the job finished before Mom gets home from work." I didn’t go into details explaining that by the time he got there Darla and I would have most of the work completed. Still there would be some heavy lifting to do. That would be the perfect way to utilize Sam’s talents, I thought to myself and laughed.

"Have a great day at practice sweetheart. I’ll see you when you get here." I didn’t tell him that Darla would be here when he arrived. I doubted that he’d be crazy about the idea. We said our goodbyes and I got back into planning mode.

It was almost eight thirty and I still hadn’t heard any rumblings from Mom. I ran up stairs to make sure she was awake. She was generally out of the house by nine fifteen.

I knocked on her door gently while yelling out "Mom, are you awake?" Hearing no response, I made my way inside. I shook her gently.

"Wake up sleepyhead. It’s time to go to work." As Mom began to squirm under the covers, a sudden surge of panic swept through me. Was she planning on staying home today? Oh No!

"What time is it?" she asked as she attempted to open her eyes.

"It’s almost eight thirty Mom. You’d better hurry or you’re going to be late" I added hopefully. She began moving at a rapid pace. I’d never seen her awaken so fast.

"Thanks Joan," was all she said as she ran for the shower. Whew! Now I just had to hope that Darla didn’t show up early. Knowing her as I did, I doubted that she’d show up unexpectedly. I went back downstairs and decided to scramble a few eggs for Mom. I couldn’t believe it. Mom showed up fully dressed and made up just twenty minutes later. How was that possible?

"I made you some breakfast," I told her as I poured her coffee.

"Joan, I don’t usually eat breakfast," she scolded.

"Well today, you’re eating breakfast," I said with total determination. I scraped her eggs onto her plate, got the toast out of the toaster and ran to grab the butter and jam.

"Aren’t you going to eat anything this morning?" she asked me. I lied and told her that I’d already eaten. Her smile told me that she knew I wasn’t telling the truth.

"So, what are you going to do today?" She asked me. I told her my cover story. Darla was coming over and then we were going to spend the day at the beach. Mom accepted this lie as the truth. I guess the tone of my voice was more convincing? Today was going to be more fun that a day at the beach, I thought as I cleared away her plates.

"Well sweetheart, it’s almost quarter after. I’d better get going. Oh, I forgot to put anything up for this evenings menu. Why don’t we have some pizza? This time it’s my treat." I hugged her and considered my allowance which I would no longer be receiving. Her treat indeed.

"That’ll be great Mom. This way I won’t have to worry about dinner and Darla and I will be able to have a bit more fun." OK, so I was reaching with that last bit. Still, she bought it. She bade my goodbye and was off to work.

I waited five minutes to make sure she was really gone and then began bringing everything up from the basement. From having watched my father in the past, I knew the proper order of things. The ceiling would be painted first. I opened the windows to air the room out and began laying down the drop cloths. Ah! I’d forgotten a screw driver to open the paint cans. I ran back down the stairs and came up with the biggest one I could find.

I still had about twenty minutes before Darla was due to arrive. I was just so excited! I poured myself another cup of coffee and sat there waiting expectantly for Darla to arrive. Prompt as always, Darla showed up at ten sharp. She hadn’t come alone. Aunt Viv knocked tentatively on the front door and I told them to just come on in.

"Would you ladies like a cup of coffee before we get to work?" I asked.

"Wait a minute Joan. I’m not here to work," said Aunt Vivian. "I’m just the chauffeur."

I laughed at that and told her that I wasn’t expecting her help. She then asked to see the room we’d be working in.

"Oh, this is lovely! OK girls, I’ve got things to do. Darla, I’ll be back at five forty five this evening. If you need anything well, you have my phone number and your legs are in perfect working order. Oh, you almost forgot: The paintings!"

Darla dragged me outside with her and she popped open the trunk. On top were the two pictures that I’d selected. She also brought two more.

"What are those for?" I asked her as I examined the soft blues of the complimenting ocean scenes.

"Consider them an early birthday present," she said and hefted them out of the trunk.

"Oh Darla, Aunt Viv! I can’t thank you enough." Fortunately, I didn’t break down and cry though I certainly felt like doing just that. Darla also carried a small brown paper bag.

"What’s in the bag?" I asked.

"Never mind Joan, you’ll see later." With that she placed the bag on the kitchen table. I eyed it curiously.

"No peeking!" She admonished. Aunt Viv gave us both quick hugs and was on her way.

"Are you ready to get started?" I asked her.

"I am if you are." With the two of us doing the job the work should go a lot faster. I opened the can of ceiling white and was greatly relieved that there would be more than enough to do the job. The paint thoroughly stirred not shaken (ha ha) I gathered up the rolling pan and edger.

"OK Darla, I’m going to get started on the ceiling. There really isn’t much you can do while I’m doing that unless? How are you with a paint brush?" I asked her. A look of confusion swept over her face. She looked like she’d rather be anywhere but here at this moment.

"Hmmm? How about if you clean up some of the stuff we’re going to put in the room when the job’s done?"

"I can do that!" She said as a smile made its way to her face for the first time that morning. I went upstairs and retrieved Mom’s sewing machine from the back of the closet. The damned thing was heavy. Where was Sam when you needed him? I then brought Darla into the basement and showed her the table and the mannequin which would also need a good going over with a rag.

I got her a bucket and some rags and told her I should be done in about half an hour. That was a total guess on my part. It turned out to be a good one. Painting with a roller was indeed the easiest thing in the world. I was totally amazed at how fast the work went. Hell, it took longer to do the edging than to paint the actual ceiling. I finished with the ceiling and headed into the basement in search of Darla. She was knee deep in dust.

"You’re doing all the fun stuff," she whined.

"Trust me Darla, there’s plenty of painting for you to do. Why don’t you get cleaned up a bit and we’ll start on the walls. She practically ran upstairs into the kitchen. She washed her hands and arms and poured herself a cup of coffee. I decided to join her.

"So, are you going to tell me what’s in the bag yet?"

She simply giggled and said, "No!"

Break time over, it was time to open the cans of pink! I opened the first can and noticed that the color appeared evenly mixed already. Still, I got a clean stick and worked the color into a whirl. Thank God for drop cloths!

"Just give me a few minutes and then you can do some serious painting, all right?" I asked her. She wanted to know why the delay. I told her that I had to do the cutting in first. I got the edging tools and laid a neat pink boundary on the wall against the ceiling. I gulped hard as I saw the dramatic color take hold. Had I made a mistake? Was it too much? I then thought that if Mom hated it, more than one coat of whatever else she wanted would be required to cover this over.

"Oh Joan! It’s the perfect color for a sewing room," Darla said with some authority. Her reaction calmed me down. I wondered for a moment if she just said that so she could get her hands on a paint roller. I filled up a pan for her. I put a clean roller on the handle and told her how to apply the paint. Not too heavy, I warned. As she began rolling the walls I finished the rest of the edge work. There was still a ton of painting left to do. The trim would take the longest.

My friend never seemed happier than when she was covering those white walls with the vivid pink. I smiled at her as I watched her work. By one o’clock we finished with the main painting. The color contrasts between the walls and the ceiling and trim were shocking. If nothing else, this room made a statement.

"Why don’t we take a break and then get started on the trim?"

"You’re quite the little slave driver aren’t you Joan?" She teased.

We took turns at the kitchen sink washing and peeling the latex paint from our skin. The clean up process was beyond easy.

"Do you like turkey?" I asked her hoping that there’d be enough for both of us to have a sandwich.

"Turkey’s fine Joan," was all she said. "But I want mine with lettuce and mayo. Why don’t you sit down and I’ll make lunch. I was starting to feel a bit tired. I took her up on her offer. Well, after I got out the sodas and a bag of chips. We ate slowly. Feelings of accomplishment showed on both of our faces. Of course, the most difficult part of the job remained. Painting the trim was a tedious task.

"Joan, I know this sounds crazy, but I really need a nap."

She did indeed look worn out. We finished eating and cleaning up and I led her up to my bedroom. Her mouth fell open as she saw the two teddy bears sitting atop my pillow. I was unsure how to handle this situation. I decided to make a joke of it.

"Darla, I’d like you to meet Teddy and Teddy Too." I did the quick name change thinking Darla wouldn’t appreciate "Josam’s" real name. Instead of becoming angry, she seemed happy to find them there. She picked them both up and squeezed them tight in the same way Sam had done last weekend..

"We really are sisters, aren’t we?" she asked.
"You’re the best sister a girl ever had," I assured her. I thought for a moment that she was going to ask me to join her on the bed. I’m glad she didn’t cause that wasn’t going to happen. I loved her very much. But, I loved her as a sister, not a suitor.

"You sleep as long as you need to. I’m going to go and get started on the trim." She smiled at my dedication and I made my way quickly back downstairs. The trim white was a high gloss and a bit more difficult to work with. Fortunately, I’d worked with it before and knew how to handle it. Sam arrived promptly at three as I was in the middle of the job.

"Door’s open. Come on in!" I shouted.

Sam came softly down the hall and into the office.

"Oh Joan! I can’t believe it! The room is absolutely beautiful." The former exclaimed and the latter whispered softly. I was overcome with emotion. I ran to give him a hug and my eyes carefully swept over the room. The ghosts were gone. My grin grew so wide it hurt.

"Do you really like it Sam?" I asked in need of further reassurance.

"Yes!" was all he said.

"Sam, I really need to get this finished. There’s not really anything you can do to help at the moment. Could you come back in about an hour and help me get the room set up?" I asked hopefully. He shuffled his feet briefly. I could tell he was half tempted to offer to help me paint the windows.

Finally he simply said, "I’ll see you in an hour."

I gave him a quick kiss and continued with my task. I was grateful that Darla hadn’t come down the stairs while we were talking. Sam might have gotten the wrong idea. I’d have to make sure she was up and out of my room by the time he returned. By three forty five, the painting was finished. Now it was time to do the clean up. I sealed up the paint cans. For awhile I was hoping that only one gallon of salmon would do the trick. It turned out that we dipped half way into the second can.

I made my way up into my room. I couldn’t believe that Darla was still sleeping. She really looked like an angel. I watched her for a few moments before softly awakening her. She awoke with a start. I could tell that she had no idea where she was.

"Darla, it’s all right. You’re in my room, remember?" She smiled up at me and made her way to the bathroom.

"I’m going to go and start cleaning up. Oh, and Sam’s going to be here in a few minutes." I didn’t tell her that I hoped she’d be downstairs when he arrived. That just seemed rude somehow.

I carried the ladder and paint cans back to the basement. With everything properly put away, I surveyed the room again. I was beyond glad that I’d done the job. We had only to get Mom’s sewing tools in the room and arrange it all in an orderly manner. Darla came down the stairs just as Sam entered the front door.

"Hi Sam," Darla said disarmingly.

I could sense that Sam was poised for a fight as I watched the scene unfold before my eyes. In fact, the last time these two had spoken blood was spilled. Unfortunately, that blood had been mine. For some reason that thought made me giggle. I was indeed losing my mind. It must be the paint fumes, I surmised.

"Hi Darla," Sam said cautiously. I was glad that he hadn’t gone into combat mode.

"Sam! Thanks for being here. The painting is all done and now we just have to assemble the room" I said in an attempt to change the subject. We began gathering everything together. Sam and Darla actually worked cooperatively to bring up the table and mannequin. I just knew Mom was going to love it The beige Berber carpet which I’d found rolled up in a corner of the basement set the whole room off perfectly.

"OK Joan, now you can open the bag," Darla announced.

I’d completely forgotten about her secret little brown bag. I opened it and a smile broke out all over my face. "Yes!" I exclaimed knowing exactly what the bits of wire and hooks were for. Sam eyed it all inquisitively. I got the two pictures and displayed them at various points throughout the room. The large rectangular forest scene was going to go over the sewing table. Thankfully, both frames had already been wired. We’d only need to place the hooks in the proper spot.

"How did you afford those?" Sam asked.

There was nothing to do but tell him of the deal I’d struck with Darla’s mother.

"They really make the room," he said honestly.

I ran to him and hugged him with all my might. I could tell that he wasn’t completely comfortable with the situation, but he was as sweet as he could be. And, just for me! The room was now just as I’d envisioned it. We left the door and the windows open to help air it out. In fact, I went and got a floor fan to help remove the odors of fresh paint. It was closing in on five o’clock when Sam hung the final picture.

"How’s your baseball practice going Sam?" Darla asked.

I could tell she was trying. She was doing it for me. I wondered if I could be as generous for her about Sarah. I honestly wasn’t sure.

Sam’s voice boomed as he told us about his day. And, he had some news. It seemed Sam had been selected to be the opening day pitcher. That was an honor bestowed on the best a team had to offer. Darla and I congratulated him on his success. I was still a tad jealous, but those feelings were slowly fading away. I got us all some cokes and we made our way into the backyard and wondered aloud as to Mom’s potential reaction to the sewing room. Darla thought she couldn’t help but love it. Sam wasn’t so sure but overall seemed cautiously optimistic.

I knew the room was perfect, but I have to admit I was also assailed by doubts. Oh well, it was too late to do anything about it now. Darla and Shandy got on like long lost friends. I could tell that Sam was a bit jealous of the developing relationship. Shandy usually ran straight to Sam and stayed with him until he’d had enough. I smiled as I considered, now he knows what it feels like to be passed over
.
Off in the distance I heard a faint knocking sound. Ah! Aunt Viv had finally arrived. I looked forward to her unbiased opinion of our work that day.

"Come on guys," I said as I made my way to the front door. Sam and Darla followed close behind. I opened the door and she beamed at the three of us.

"Hi girls! And who’s this strapping young man you’ve got here with you?" She’d never met Sam before. I made the introductions and Sam stood there blushing and gushing.

"So, let me see the damage you’ve wreaked before your mother gets home. If it’s a total disaster maybe I can help smooth things over for you. After all, it’s the thought that counts."

Her comments were intended to be humorous. They only succeeded in creating a series of tiny knots deep in the pit of my stomach.

"Oh Joan! Don’t be such a worry wart. I’m sure the room is perfect."

She followed as I led the procession down the hall and into the sewing room.

"Oh my!" She exclaimed. "This can’t be the same room I was in early this morning, can it?" Mom’s sewing table gleamed from the coat of polish that Darla had applied. The sewing machine cover was off. With the guiding light on, it was ready for use.

"You girls have really outdone yourselves. Joan, your mother is going to love this. And, I have to admit seeing those paintings on the wall almost makes me wish I’d never parted with them. Who knew that all they needed was a pink wall to be displayed upon?" She laughed as she said it.

"OK, now I want the three of you over here in the corner. Sam, you get behind Joan and Darla. Put your arms around their shoulders. Come on!"

We all shuffled into position as Aunt Vivian pulled out her digital camera. Three sheepish grins were tattooed to our faces. Aunt Viv took several shots of us in various poses. Her picture taking lightened the mood.

Before I knew it a familiar voice greeted me. "Joan, I’m home! What’s Vivian’s car doing in the driveway?" she asked.

We stood there quietly. Mom sought us out quickly like a heat seeking missile.

"Oh My God!" She exclaimed as she entered the room. The moment of truth had arrived.

"What have you done?" It was impossible from the tone of her voice to know whether she was angry, sad, or ecstatically happy. I hoped it was the latter.

Her eyes ran over and over the walls, the paintings, and the furniture. We were invisible to her. I stood there about to burst into tears. I still didn’t know if she liked what I’d done. Aunt Viv, noticing my distress took control of the situation.

"Come on everyone. Let’s adjourn to the kitchen." We made our way out of the room. The kitchen table was only capable of accommodating four. I grabbed a chair from the dining room and sat off to the side between Sam and Darla.

"What ever possessed you to do such a thing?" Mom began. I couldn’t take it anymore. The tears began flowing and I had no way of stopping them.

"I was hoping you’d teach me how to sew," I said. I didn’t dare admit that my real reason was to remove any traces of my bastard father. This wasn’t going at all like I’d planned.

Aunt Vivian had remained quiet up to this time. "Where’s your liquor cabinet?" She asked at last. Grateful for something to do, I wiped my eyes and escorted her to the dry sink. She eyed the contents carefully and finally selected the bottle of Absolut.

She smiled at me and assured me that everything was going to be all right. We went back into the kitchen where everyone was sitting stone faced.

"Why don’t you guys go play in the backyard for a bit?" Aunt Viv made the suggestion which was anything but.

We rose as one and made our way silently into the backyard. Sam’s face conveyed a message of, "I told you so." Darla came over and wrapped her arms around me, assuring me that it was going to be fine. Sam just stood off to the side staring at his sneakers as if he expected them to begin moving of their own accord.

We sat there for what seemed like forever. Several attempts were made at conversation but none of them yielded anything but short, terse replies. I could tell that Sam was really uncomfortable. His gaze continually fell upon the gate as he silently planned his escape.

"It’s all right Sam, you can go if you want," I said not wanting to keep him there against his will. A hopeful look swept over his face.

"Are you sure?" He asked. That told me everything. Yes, I was sure I didn’t want him here if he didn’t want to be here. Why was I suddenly angry with Sam? He’d done nothing wrong. I calmed myself down.

"I’ll call you later and let you know how it all turned out," I said and laughed cynically.

"Joan, I’ll stay if you really want me to?" he tried.

"It’s all right Sam, really. Just give me a hug and I’ll talk to you later."

He didn’t need any further prodding. He did something though that made me proud before he left.

"Darla, I’m really sorry about the way I treated you."

She smiled at him and assured him it was OK. I thought hopefully for a moment that maybe these two unlikely characters could indeed get along. It was funny in a way. Here we were the three of us. Three transgendered teens together in one location for no specific reason other than honest friendship. What were the odds?

Sam left and Darla and I sat at the table a while longer. It was easier now somehow with Sam gone. For some reason I felt my thoughts were in betrayal of him. I know that wasn’t the case, but it did make me feel a bit uneasy.

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to go back inside.

"I’m going in Darla," I told her in a voice which suggested that we were indeed going to take that hill and casualties be damned!

Darla followed close behind as I made my way cautiously into the kitchen. There were no signs of life. Was that a good thing or a bad one? I had no idea. Suddenly, I heard voices. I knew where they were. They were in the sewing room. A surge of joy swept over me as Darla and I nearly tripped over one another in the attempt to be the first one inside. Mom sat at her table and was showing Aunt Vivian some of the machine’s capabilities.

Before I could say anything Mom blurted out, "Oh Joan, I’m so sorry! The room is absolutely perfect. But it must have cost a fortune! Painters don’t work cheap,." she said at last. It was her last statement that had me over the moon.

"And these paintings, why they’re just breath taking!" She jumped up from her chair and ran over to me. She hugged me tight as the tears began flowing in harmony down our cheeks. Aunt Viv shot me a look which suggested I remain mum about the origin of the art work.

"We’re going to make such beautiful clothes!" She continued. I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. This was the reaction I’d hoped for from the beginning. Aunt Vivian sure was one helluva miracle worker. Darla and her mother stood side by side simply watching us.

"Thank you," we both began at once and burst into giggles. The thanks were to the incredible Raspberrys. We gathered in the middle of the room for a group hug.

"Mom, as to the expense," I began. I could hear her teeth beginning to grind.

"What I mean is, Darla and I did all the work. The only cost was the paint." I half expected her to offer me reimbursement. No such offer was forthcoming.

"Well, you girls did a fantastic job! She beamed at both of us. She seemed to come alive in a way that I’d not seen for a long, long time.

"Wait a minute. I want to go and get my camera." She said as she smiled proudly at all of us.

"No need," Aunt Viv replied as she removed her own from her purse.

"Why don’t you three go stand in the corner?" She suggested yet again. There was no need to discuss our arrangement. Mom instinctively stood behind us and put her arms around our shoulders.

"Say cheese," she laughed as she began snapping away. The mere mention of cheese had my stomach grumbling. I was starving! The photograph process was repeated until we’d all been photographed together. One last group shot of the four of us. The camera expertly perched on the sewing table as we all crouched down to get in the picture.

"Mom? Where’s that pizza you promised?" I asked sincerely.

She laughed and asked me what I wanted on it. I deferred to Darla and Aunt Viv hoping that my offer would entice them to stay. It was the first time I’d ever had a pizza covered in broccoli and mushrooms. Oh well, I reasoned that the company was more important than the food and I could get my favorite, peppers and onions, any time I wanted it. It was just a short walk away…

Notes:

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Synopsis:

Joan keeps her appointment with Dr. Raspberry. Joan, Sam, and Darla spend a fun evening together at the Raspberrys’. Sam has his pitching debut and Joan’s father comes to take her away.

Story:

Chapter 7

I Can’t Dance

Wednesday. I awoke dead tired. I’d slept rather fitfully all night long. I dragged my body out of bed and got ready for work. I felt as though I was walking through water. Every part of my being felt twice its normal weight and everything moved in slow motion. I was glad that I wouldn’t be working with power tools today.

I arrived at work on time as usual. Mr. Ferris and Paul were already at it when I got there. I gave them a brief nod and began sanding. The clock simply refused to move. I stood at my post with my eyes glued to the overhead school-type clock. Finally, Mr. Ferris came over.

"Joan, are you all right?" He asked me with concern in his voice.

"I’m fine Mr. Ferris," I replied. I wasn’t about to spill my guts to him. For all I knew he’d send me home. I needed the money. I did my best to focus on my sanding. It felt like the world was closing in on me. I was drowning in a sea of sawdust. Finally, lunch time arrived. I was far too upset to eat. I got on my bike and peddled a few blocks away and had a smoke. What the hell was I going to do?

Somehow, the nicotine gave me the buzz that I needed to get through the rest of the day. Still, I gave more than a few glances to the clock on the wall. I stayed an extra ten minutes - I owed Mr. Ferris that much. There was no way I’d be working on Aunt Viv’s jewelry box today. I made my way home and jumped in the shower immediately on arrival. I let the cold water run over my body. It helped a bit, but not as much as I’d hoped. I dried myself off, put on some clean clothes and sat down at my desk.

It was time to do a little research on "Dr. Wintergarden." It took me awhile before I could find out just who he was. It seemed he spent the majority of his time testifying in court on child custody proceedings. So, that was Dad’s plan. To get me away from Mom, he’d accuse her of being an unfit mother. Dr. Wintergarden’s opinion went to the highest bidder. There was no way I was keeping that appointment. I’d run away first if I had to. Still, I hoped that Aunt Viv had been able to convince Mom that it was a bad idea. I’d just have to wait till she got home to find out.

I took care of the dog, did some chores, and began preparations for dinner. I couldn’t keep down the anger that kept rising to the surface. Dad left us. He left Mom and me all alone. That wasn’t enough for him. Now he wanted to take me away from her too. I found myself hoping for his sake that he didn’t get his wish. I honestly thought at that moment that I could kill him. That thought scared the hell out of me. Was I on my way to some kind of breakdown?

I made my way outside and started running. I ran as fast as I could and as far as I could until I just couldn’t take another step. I hadn’t locked the door or taken any heed of my appearance. The air burned in my lungs with each and every bit of movement. Again, I felt like screaming. There had to be some way out of this mess. I walked back home slowly; one step at a time till I arrived back at my front door. Shandy cocked her head curiously at me upon my return. She then came over and began rubbing her body against my legs as a cat would. As crazy as her actions had been, they calmed me down.

It was nearing six o’clock and I made final preparations for Mom’s arrival. I was going to tell her first thing about what I’d found on the net about the good doctor. I’d await her reaction before telling her that there was no way in hell that I’d be keeping that appointment. My heart beat faster as I awaited her arrival. Once again, I felt like crying. Was I losing my mind? I put all such thoughts aside and set the table. Mom came through the door as the clock struck six.

"Mom! What are we going to do?" I blurted out as she walked in. I practically attacked her. My arms wrapped tight around her neck, I began blubbering shamelessly.

"It’s all right baby," she cooed. If only I could believe her. I quickly regained control of myself and told her everything I’d found out about Dr. Wintergarden. "I know Joan. Your Aunt Vivian told me and I also did some research on my own. Oh, and I canceled your appointment with him. Nothing short of a court order will have you in his office. I don’t think it’s going to come to that though. So, you stop worrying about it."

"Oh, and I made a formal appointment for you with Dr. Vivian Raspberry. In fact, you’ll be seeing her later this evening. Does that work for you?" She asked me. I began to have hope. Hope that this situation would resolve itself without any bloodshed. I wasn’t some helpless pawn in a game. I calmed down as I served up our food. My hunger slowly returned. It felt like the first food I’d eaten in days. We even managed a few laughs as we sat there eating. I honestly can’t remember what they might have been about though.

I began to get frustrated with the whole ordeal. Couldn’t I just be myself? Why was this all such a "big" deal? Was I mentally ill as Dr. Benjamin’s standards suggested? This was starting to get overwhelming. It’s funny, if I didn’t have to worry about others’ opinions, I’d be perfectly happy. I had my work, my friends, my sweetheart, and a mother that loved me unconditionally. So, why all the fuss?

I knew Aunt Vivian was in my corner. It seemed my debt to the Raspberrys was an ever increasing one. There was nothing I could do about that at the moment. I made myself as pretty as possible and we took the short ride to the Raspberry mansion. Aunt Vivian greeted us at the door. The rest of the family was nowhere in evidence. Aunt Viv and Mom chatted for a few minutes and Mom went off to the family room to watch TV.

I know that they had a home office. Aunt Viv ushered me into the kitchen and told me to take a seat. She poured us some coffee and we started talking. I’m guessing we met in the kitchen rather than the office so that I’d feel more at ease about what was going on. We talked about everything and anything. She made me feel perfectly at ease. There were no "probing" questions. No, "how long have you felt this way?" kind of questions. Just me and my friend’s mother having a chat about life. My stomach stopped churning and I became more comfortable.

It seemed like we’d just sat down to talk, but before I knew what was happening, Aunt Viv left the room to retrieve my mother. I wondered if she was to become part of the process? I guessed that was necessary if Aunt Viv was to make a valid representation as to my state of health. I was dismissed from the kitchen. I thought she was kidding when she told me I could go, but Aunt Vivian was totally serious.

It was my turn to stare mindlessly at the television. Mom never did tell me what they discussed that evening. The only evidence I had that it was in any way "official" was the envelope Mom stuck in her purse as we said our goodbyes. Aunt Viv hugged me and told me not to worry. Her tone convinced me that I had nothing to worry about.

"That wasn’t so bad, was it Joan?" Mom asked.

"It wasn’t bad at all. What were you two talking about all that time?" I had to ask.

"Well, I had to get the evaluation letter for your father. Vivian was more than kind in that regard. She wants to see you on a weekly basis if that’s alright with you?"

"If that’s what it takes, no problem," I said. Besides, I was sure I’d find my way over there after work at least once a week to talk to her. This might not be so bad after all. Still, I hated being told what to do. Though, no one had told me to do anything! Ah, I couldn’t get a handle on my feelings of unease.

"Vivian has handled situations like this before. She assured me that we won’t have any problems," Mom said at last. I hoped they both knew what they were talking about. I knew one thing. I wasn’t going to be corresponding with my father any time soon.

We finally arrived home and spent the rest of the evening in the sewing room. I found myself enjoying the soft hum of the machine more and more as the days passed. Mom asked me if I’d rather have another skort or a blouse made out of the remaining denim. I thought it might look neat to have a complete outfit made out of the same fabric. Usually, denim tops and bottoms didn’t match exactly. I laughed as I thought that Darla would probably want me to give her my new top. Besides, I now had three skorts and two more should be arriving any day now in the mail. I hoped Mom wouldn’t be disappointed that I’d bought them.

It was after nine and I told Mom I was going over to Sam’s for a bit. She told me to go ahead, but just to remember I had to work in the morning. I hadn’t touched my face since we went to Aunt Vivian’s. I hoped that I looked OK.
Sam came running to the door when I knocked as if he’d been expecting me. He gave me a quick hug and suggested we go for a walk.

"I got a really strange phone call today, Joan." I found myself wondering what constituted a strange phone call from Sam’s perspective. "Your father called me. He wanted to know how you were doing and just kept plugging away with all sorts of bizarre questions. I did my best to appear cooperative, but non-committal. I’m not sure what the end result was from his point of view. I hope I didn’t mess things up for you, Joan."

I explained to Sam how I’d botched things up with Dad by sending him the picture of me and Mom in the sewing room. He actually laughed at that. I also assured him that everything was going to be just fine though I didn’t actually believe it myself. Weren’t parents supposed to be supportive? I found myself thinking that this was more about punishing Mom than trying to help me in any way.

"Joan, your Dad’s always seemed like a reasonable guy. I’m sure it’ll all work out." I’d said practically the same thing to him moments before. Were we trying to convince each other that it was true? I made a Sam sandwich of his right hand with both of mine as we sat on a bench staring out to sea. I could have stayed there with him all night, but we both had busy days ahead of us. He held me and kissed me at my front door. I stood and watched as he made his way across the street and inside.

I found myself wondering if I should tell Mom about Dad calling Sam as I walked back inside. I decided that it would probably be the smart thing to do. Her face turned to stone when I relayed the story to her. For a second, as I gazed into her eyes, I could tell that no one was home. Given her precarious state, I resolved not to upset her again needlessly. We needed each other too much for things to get messed up now.

"Mom, could you give me Aunt Mel’s email address?" I asked her. Aunt Melissa was supposed to arrive the first week in August. Perhaps if I explained things to her she could make it here sooner. I figured we could use all the support we could get. Mom told me her email address and I decided that I’d email her tomorrow when I got home from work.

Thursday afternoon arrived and Mr. Ferris deposited another $100 in my waiting hands. I’d worked hard that Thursday from bell to bell. I asked him if I could come in tomorrow to work on Aunt Viv’s jewelry box. He said no, he was going away for the long weekend. Monday was the 4th of July. "I’ll see you first thing Tuesday morning then?" I asked him hopefully. He simply smiled in return and wished me a pleasant weekend.

I was glad to have Monday off, but I doubted it would be a paid holiday. Maybe I could make it up next Friday? Ah, I had far more important things to worry about. Although my body had been busily sanding all day, my mind had been thinking about just what to say to Aunt Melissa. She had always been considered the "rock" of the family. Mom sometimes spoke of her older sister in awe.

On arriving home I grabbed a cup of coffee and tended to the dog. Up in my room I connected to the Internet. I’d been thinking about what I wanted to say all day and now, I was drawing a blank. I didn’t even know if Mom had explained things to Aunt Mel. I knew one thing for sure; it wasn’t my place to do so. Still, I had to do something. Finally, I explained everything as best I could. Well, not everything. I didn’t tell her about "Joan." I did mention the possibility of a custody battle though and hoped that would be enough. In the event that it wasn’t, then I’d add that little extra bit to my next email.

It felt strange signing off that email as "Your loving nephew, John." I actually had to go back and correct it. I’d automatically typed the "a" instead of the "h." I clicked the send button and prayed for a rapid reply. It was already early Friday morning in Queensland and I just hoped that Aunt Melissa checked her email often. The smell of cigarette smoke hung in the air. I went to my bed and gave Josam a hug. The smell clung to everything. I vowed not to smoke in my room again.

Back downstairs, I tore into my chores like a girl possessed. I had a four day weekend ahead of me and no real plans but for Sam’s baseball game on Saturday. Yet, here I was working like it was my last day on earth. In the middle of it all I thought about checking my email account. But, I did the mental math and realized it was only six o’clock in the morning on the other side of the world. Aunt Mel once told me that if she moved any farther away, she’d be closer.

As it closed in on dinnertime, I double checked everything just to make sure all was in order. Everything was as good as it was going to be. I had everything ready for Mom’s drink as I awaited her arrival. She didn’t disappoint and came through the door just after six.

"Joan, the house looks beautiful!" Mom exclaimed as she walked through the door. For some reason, she exuded total confidence that evening. I decided to take shelter in what I hoped was her safe harbor. She asked me about my plans for the weekend and whether or not I was working on Monday. Of course, the library would be closed. I decided on the spur of the moment that I’d spend tomorrow painting my bedroom. The pink wouldn’t have been my first choice, but I was finished spending money needlessly.

"What are you so happy about this evening, Mom?" I watched her face carefully. She looked like she’d swallowed more than a few canaries. Her smile was infectious; I found myself beaming back at her.

"Cant a mother be happy for no reason at all?" She asked me. There was something going on here. I knew that no amount of prodding on my part would get the answers out of her. I decided to leave well enough alone.

Dinner finished, I cleaned the kitchen and put everything away. I found myself wondering what Sam was up to and gave him a call. He said he had nothing planned for the evening and would be over in about a half hour. I didn’t need him to be any more exact than that and told him I’d see him in a bit. I then called Darla and relayed the information about the game. I asked her if she was doing anything that evening. I then followed it by asking her if she minded if Sam and I stopped by.

She seemed a little put out at first, but after awhile, welcomed the idea. Of course, I wasn’t sure I could convince Sam to go over there with me. Still, I told Darla that we’d be there in about an hour. I hoped I wasn’t making a big mistake. I couldn’t decide whether to tell Sam of my intentions to visit Darla, or to just drag him over there. In the end, I went with the surprise option. He wanted to know where we were going and why we were walking farther away from the boardwalk rather than going directly to it.

As we neared her front door Sam asked me just what we were doing there and whose house was it? I should have blindfolded him; it would have made things a lot easier.

"Come on Sam, we have to stop here for a few minutes."

"Just why are we stopping here? And, who lives here?" He asked. I urged him onward again and finally got close enough to ring the doorbell. Aunt Vivian answered.

"Oh, hi Joan, and? You’re Sam, right?" She asked him. I was afraid for just a moment that he was going to hit me. In the end he just said hello back and we walked inside. "Why don’t you two just go on upstairs. Darla is expecting you. Sam seemed determined to not be overwhelmed as we made our way to Darla’s room. Each step he took said this is all old hat to me. We finally arrived outside of Darla’s closed door. I made a point of knocking loud enough for her to hear. If Sam squeezed my hand any tighter he was going to break my fingers.

"Come on in guys!" She greeted us. I’m not sure why but I was half worried that she was going to invite Sarah too. Fortunately, it was just the three of us. "Ah, and here’s the star pitcher for the team," she said insincerely. For a moment I was worried that Sam would take offense. He didn’t.

"This certainly is some room you have here Darla," said Sam as he took it all in. She shrugged her shoulders and just said that it was home. He smiled at that. It’s amazing the things you could take for granted. "Does that fireplace really work?" She laughed at that and showed him the rest of the layout. Sam marveled that her walk-in-closet was as big as my bedroom. I just thought it was fun; taking it all in from a pair of fresh eyes.

"Would you like to listen to some music?" Darla asked.

"Sure, what’ve you got?" he asked. She opened a few dresser drawers which were loaded to capacity with disks. It almost looked like the drawers had been designed with exactly this in mind.

"They’re all arranged alphabetically in case you haven’t figured that out yet." I knew Sam was into music, but I never realized just how much. He seemed more into her music collection than he’d been in anything else. He finally selected the first album by Counting Crows (August and Everything After) and put it on her stereo.

"This is incredible!" Sam exclaimed. "Where is your subwoofer hiding? I hear it, but I don’t see it." Darla just smiled at him and told him she had no idea what he was talking about. "Mr. Jones" came on and Sam started dancing. I’d been sitting on the bed and he pulled me to my feet and insisted I join in. For such a big guy, he was quite adept on the dance floor. "No, her room didn’t have a dance floor - that was just "poetic license."

He finally seemed happy that we came. The song ended and he turned the volume way down. He and Darla became lost in conversation for the next while. I was beginning to feel neglected. I began wondering if I should just leave them alone. Was I getting jealous here? First of Billy, and now of Darla? Damn, what was wrong with me? Darla finally brought me back into the conversation. I told her that she’d have to be over at my house by noon on Saturday so we could get to the game on time. Starting time was one o’clock.

"Oh, and Joan, Sally’s coming too!" I don’t believe I’d ever seen Darla quite this bubbly. We gave Sam the rest of the tour. Well, Darla did; I just followed close behind. Sam had kind things to say about every room we entered. He was definitely taken with the in-ground pool though.

"Do you swim much?" He asked her.

"Well, yes I do. The pool is heated and we open it up in May till the first week in October. After that, you have to use the hot tub if you want to get wet outdoors." She laughed. I didn’t even know there was a hot tub about. Was there anything they didn’t have? Ah yes! No sewing machine. Of course, there was no need for a sewing machine either. I felt like a pioneer woman by comparison. I realized that Darla would never take me up on my offer to teach her to sew.

"Would you guys like to go for a swim?" She asked us. She went on to say that she was sure there were extra suits available that would fit us. I knew Sam didn’t like to parade around in a one-piece suit, but? I didn’t think we’d be skinny-dipping in Darla’s pool.

"What do you say, Sam?" I asked him.

"I will if you will," he said throwing the ball back in my court.

"Come on you two! Let’s go get changed." We followed her back up to her room and Darla showed us her array of bathing suits. Sam found one suitable. A solid colored navy blue suit. It was a tight squeeze, but he got it on. I found myself thinking --- if only I had breasts like that.

Darla grabbed some towels and we made our way to the pool. Sam went in off the diving board. Darla and I went in via the steps on the shallow end.

"This is fantastic!" He said when he came up for air. I had to laugh at his enthusiasm. Darla and I sat on the edge of the pool with our feet dangling in the water while Sam dove in time after time and swam to the other end of the pool. He’d get out, run along the side and do it all over again. I began to wonder if he was on amphetamines. I was getting tired just watching him. At last he came over and sat down. The only problem was, he sat down next to Darla. Had he done that on purpose?

We chatted for awhile longer and Darla asked us if we were hungry. There was never any point in asking Sam that question. Best to just put the food down within easy reach.

"How about some burgers?" She asked as we made our way into the kitchen.

"I’ll cook them on the outside grill if you have one," Sam offered. Darla laughed and told him they did indeed have one but, they’d taste just as good if we cooked them indoors. She then showed Sam the indoor barbecue grill. She fired up the grill, turned on the exhaust fan and retrieved the ground round from the refrigerator.

"Can I move in with you?" Sam asked laughingly.

"No, but you can make your own patty," she told him and directed him to the package of meat. Sam, not content to make just one hamburger made himself two half-pounders.

"You’ll never be able to eat all that," I said pleadingly.

"Just watch me," he replied and tossed his burgers onto the grill. "When we get our house Joan, it’s got to have one of these," he said motioning towards the grill. I couldn’t begin to imagine the cost of such an extravagance.

"Well sweetheart, when you’re pitching for the New York Yankees we’ll be able to afford one," I said and laughed.

"We will at that," he said, oblivious to my joke.

"Don’t you want to toast your rolls too?" Darla asked. I began to wonder why she was pulling out all the stops to please Sam. Maybe I was feeling jealous for a reason. I made my own modest sized burger and put it on the grill. Darla did the same. In no time at all, the food was ready.

We sat there drinking sodas, eating chips and dip,, and working our way through the California cheese burgers. Sam had indeed eaten all the food that he’d chosen. I felt like suggesting that he try doing some running around now. The meal really was as good as any I’d ever had in any restaurant. It must be nice to have money.

"I’m so glad you two came over this evening," Darla began. "And, I can’t wait to see you pitch our team to victory on Saturday," she continued. I guessed I should feel proud that my guy was indeed the starting pitcher for "The Waves", but there were some other unseen emotions floating about.

We thanked Darla and Aunt Viv for everything and said our goodbyes. I reminded Darla that she and Sally had to be over at my house by noon on Saturday. As we began our walk home, I calmed down. Sam became very attentive to me and thanked me for insisting that we visit Darla. I didn’t know whether to feel relieved or not. I knew that Darla was not into boys but technically, Sam wasn’t one. Was I making a mistake by bringing these two together?

I told Sam of my plans to paint my room tomorrow. He didn’t even ask what color I planned on painting it. I’m guessing he already knew. He told me that he had practice till three o’clock but would stop over when that was done. We kissed goodnight and I made my way inside.

Mom was watching television. The only difference was she actually seemed to be paying attention to it now. I took that as a good sign. I hugged her tight and prepared myself for bed. It had been a long day…

Chapter 8

Poppa Don’t Preach

Friday morning arrived and Mom headed off to work. I got myself ready and headed down to the paint store. Mr. Hospin seemed genuinely happy to see me. He went on to explain that the reason he hadn’t called was that he’d lost my phone number. He said that he had a few jobs lined up for me and that I should contact him after the holiday.

"Do you know how to hang wallpaper kid? I laughed at that and told him I was sticking to paint for the time being. I went over and picked out another gallon of the salmon pink. He asked me if I hadn’t had enough. I explained to him that there was more than enough and I was going to be painting my own bedroom. He smiled at that, took my money, and told me to stop in early next week.

It was more of a pain painting my own room. I moved everything to the center. And literally stood on my covered bed as I painted the ceiling. The posters on my walls left visible marks when I removed them. The new paint covered them over perfectly. I couldn’t remember when my room had last been painted. I only knew that I was very young at the time.

I ate my lunch and finished up the job. By three o’clock I was cleaning up and putting everything away. I was going to need some new things for it all to work together. Still, the green bedspread didn’t look too bad with the pink paint. It really felt great to be able to accomplish such a transformation so quickly. Maybe I could get Mom to show me how to make some nice curtains? I put the receipt for the paint in my top dresser drawer and hit the shower. Sam would be coming over soon (I hoped!).

I’d been so busy, I hadn’t even checked the mail. There was a package for me. My new clothes had finally arrived! I put on my new pink skort and matching top. It seemed I was drowning in pink these days. I loved it! I carefully applied my makeup and, with still no word from Sam I decided to give him a call. Aunt Alice picked up the phone on the first ring.

"So, I understand I’m chauffeuring a car load of giggling girls to the baseball game tomorrow?" She teased. "Your mother is coming along too. I hope Sam does well in her debut." It felt funny hearing Sam being referred to with feminine pronouns. I guessed that Aunt Alice wasn’t ready to give up on her daughter. Maybe she should get together with my Dad, I thought bitterly.

"I can’t wait to see him pitch!" I exclaimed sincerely. "I’m sure he’ll do really well," I continued. I wasn’t sure if I was saying these things sincerely or just to taunt Aunt Alice regarding her "son’s" true gender.

"Just make sure you’re all over here by noon tomorrow," she added seriously.

"We’ll be there, but that’s not why I called. Is Sam at home?" I asked hopefully.

"Sorry Joan, they’re all going out to dinner this evening to celebrate the start of the new season." For a moment I wondered who "they" were and then of course, it hit me. She was talking about the other members of the team.

"Well, tell him to call me when he gets home then," I said.

"Will do Joan, but you know she has to be to bed very early tonight." I just wanted to talk to him for god’s sake, why all the fuss?

"It’s all right Aunt Alice, I understand." I wasn’t too sure that I did though. I said goodbye and found myself sitting on my bed holding one of the now fading roses. I’d have to ask Mom if she could show me how to dry them out properly. Sure I was disappointed, but I wasn’t going to let it dampen my spirits. I went and got the two ocean scenes that Darla had given me and hung them strategically on the wall. The paintings didn’t really blend too well with my new room. The blue against the pink was a bit too much.

With dinner cooking, I sat at the table and had a cup of coffee and a cigarette. I decided that I was going to ration myself to three a day. I’d already had two. That left one for the evening. Mom never asked where I got them from. I guess she just assumed that I was taking them from her. I wasn’t going to tell her about the eight packs I had stashed away.

Mom came home and we fell into our usual routine. I made us both chef’s salads for dinner. It was easy and the cold food was appreciated as the warmth of summer began invading our home. I thought about turning on the central air, but I knew it cost a lot of money to operate the thing. Instead, I put a fan in the kitchen window. It was comfortable enough.

"By the way Joan, I love your new outfit. But why did you buy clothes now that we can make our own?" I explained to her that I ordered them online before I ever thought about creating a sewing room. I didn’t point out that my new skort had a zipper, pockets, and belt loops. Yeah, I knew Mom was going easy on me "patterns" wise, but I needed clothes with all the options.

Friday slowly sank into obscurity. No word from Sam. Was this a new pattern developing? One of the few nights I could stay up late and not worry about the morning and he was off with the boys? He could have at least called me. Why was I going to his game to root for him? Was he rooting for me? It certainly didn’t seem so at the moment. Was love always a "roller coaster" ride? Such thoughts continuously assaulted my brain until at last, exhausted, I fell asleep.

Saturday morning. Sam’s big day had finally arrived. I awoke early; it felt strange awakening to a sea of pink walls. I purposefully chose some dirty clothes from the hamper, hit the kitchen and ate some toast. It was time to mow the lawn. Yard work was one of my least favorite things to do. I finished the job and noticed Sam’s own lawn was getting a little high. It wouldn’t take me more than twenty minutes to cut his grass. I didn’t want any worries to distract him today. I cut it for him, making sure to alter the pattern as I went along. I guess one of the reasons I did was because I felt guilty for my thoughts of him and the boys last night.

As I was finishing up he came out to greet me. "I’m not going to pay you for that, you know." He said and came over to give me a hug.

"You don’t have to pay me for the work, but with the cost of gas these days you can refill my tank." I said and laughed. He got the gas can and topped off my tank. Was I becoming obsessed with money? Life just seemed a bit more uncertain with Dad gone. Sometimes Mom seemed to take no notice at all of financial matters. Somebody had to, right?

We stood outside his front door hugging and kissing for a few minutes. He then told me he had to go and get ready. I told him I’d see him at the game. The coach was picking up the kids in a school bus. Sam would be on his way to the park by eleven. I pushed the mower home lovingly as a mother would a baby carriage; lost in thoughts of Sam. With the gardening tools put away, I hit the showers. Remembering that Darla insisted I wear a skirt, I put on my new sundress. It wasn’t a skirt; it was better! I’m not sure why I was so anxious that morning. I gave Darla a call and reminded her to be at my house by noon.

"Joan, you’re not going to believe this," she said upon answering. "My mother actually wants to come to the game. She said she feels as if she knows Sam and wants to come and root him and the team on." She was right, I didn’t believe it. Still, what other reason could Aunt Viv have had for wanting to attend the game?

"But Darla," I began, "There isn’t any more room in the car."

"Don’t worry Joan. Sally, Mom, and I will be over to pick you up at noon. There’s plenty of room in her car." It sounds weird, but I was looking forward to having a few minutes to chat with Aunt Alice. It seemed like forever since we’d had a chance to chat in the intimate confines of an automobile. I told Darla I had to check and make sure it was all right and that I’d call her right back. I called Aunt Alice and asked her if she’d mind if I went with Darla to the game. She said she was looking forward to my company, but that she and Mom would make it there just fine.

I called Darla back and gave her the news. Mom still hadn’t awakened. I considered doing the breakfast in bed thing again, but I didn’t want to spoil her. It was closing in on nine-thirty when I awoke her with a kiss and a hug. She didn’t groan or grumble at me. She simply got up and made her way into the bathroom. Task completed I went and checked myself out. I really needed some sandals. Could I wear pantyhose with a sundress? I didn’t really have much choice. Well, I suppose I could have put on my mary janes without anything underneath. I tried the hose. They somehow made the dress look frumpy. Besides, it was going to be too hot to have the nylons sticking to my legs. I put my bare feet into the shoes.

I wasn’t going to make Mom breakfast in bed, but I decided to make her breakfast. I was getting kind of hungry myself. I cooked a ton of bacon in the microwave and made us eggs over easy. The whole wheat toast completed the meal. Mom and I sat there eating and I babbled on excitedly about the day ahead. She too seemed a bit disappointed that I wouldn’t be traveling with her and Aunt Alice. With half an hour remaining, I decided to check my email. Aunt Melissa had finally replied! She expressed her sorrow concerning the home-front situation and said that the soonest she could come would be in two weeks. Well, that was two weeks earlier than she’d initially intended. I sent her a brief reply filled with thanks for her concern and promised to keep in touch.

I almost danced down the stairs as I waited for Darla to arrive. I really needed some new earrings. Maybe Dad would get them for me for my birthday. Such a delusional and sarcastic thought to have. Mom left for Aunt Alice’s house shortly before I did. Darla and company were a few minutes late. I began to worry that something had gone wrong when they pulled up in the driveway.

I screeched with excitement as I entered the back seat. Thankfully, Darla and Sally were in giddy mode too. All this to watch a bunch of kids play baseball. Half an hour later we arrived at the park. Aunt Viv had hardly said a word the entire time. This wasn’t a tiny ballpark. It had been abandoned several years ago by a minor league team that had attempted to make a go of it. The county foreclosed on the property when the taxes went unpaid. I couldn’t believe the number of people in attendance. If I had to guess, I’d say there were about two thousand people there. We sat along the first base line a few rows back behind the home team dugout.

The home team was dressed in white. The uniforms were beautiful. A huge wave crested above the lettering: "Waves." I sat between Darla and Aunt Viv. Sally sat next to Darla. I was really glad when Sally accepted my apology and my three dollars. I thought I was nuts as I realized I was carrying around over a hundred dollars in cash with me. My dress had no pockets and I hugged my purse just a little tighter.

Finally the home team was announced. The players came out one-by-one. We all cheered when Sam came trotting out of the dugout. The back of his jersey said: "Peters" with a huge number 2 beneath it. I found myself wondering whether Sam was a Derek Jeter fan or whether he wore number two cause it was my lucky number. The Cumberland Crows were announced to a smattering of applause. This was definitely a home team audience. Some of the players looked too old to be out there. I looked through my program and discovered that the league was open for those between the ages of thirteen and sixteen. I began to worry for Sam. A lot of these kids had a lot more experience than he did.

Finally the home team took the field. They stood at their positions as the Star Spangled Banner was sung. I actually felt a few tears well up as I sang along with the crowd. With the umpire’s shout of "Play Ball," it was time for the game to begin. Sam looked perfectly at ease out there on the mound. A huge smile overtook his face when I yelled his name and waved at him. He’d always been a good player, but I couldn’t believe how much he’d improved since we’d last played together. The top of the first was over before it began; one strikeout and two ground outs. It was time for the Waves to take their turn at bat.

I found myself a bit miffed that no one had told me how pretty I looked in my new sundress. A stupid thought to have, I know, but consider the source. The Crows’ pitcher made short work of our team as well. Neither Billy nor Sam had come to the plate yet. Sam really seemed in-the-groove as he continued handling the opposition. Through three innings he hadn’t allowed a base-runner. I was starting to get hungry, but wasn’t going to hit the food vendors yet. It was the bottom of the third and Sam would be first to the plate. Thus far it had been a pitching duel. That was about to change. San laced a line drive into the gap in center field and arrived at second base standing up. The crowd went wild.

Sally, Darla, and I stood up and tried to get a "wave" going. The crowd was soon into it. Two thousand people moving from side to side and yelling: "whoooooosh" to simulate the sound of crashing surf. Billy was up next. I’m ashamed to admit it, I was glad when he struck out. The next batter was also thrown out, but his hit to the second baseman allowed Sam to advance to third base.

The next batter Kevin Whitcomb singled him in. The Waves led one to nothing. That’s how the inning ended. I decided to wait till Sam finished the fourth inning before heading for some food. Sam finished the inning without allowing a base runner. He had thrown a perfect game through four innings. Only three innings left to play! Darla came with me to retrieve the hot dogs. We were standing in line waiting to place our order when a finger tapped me on the shoulder from behind. I turned around to see my father scowling down at me. I almost went into shock. What the hell was he doing here?

"John, I have to talk to you," he said as he eyed me with disgust. I felt so ashamed. So embarrassed. I nearly crumbled to the floor. Thankfully, Darla held me up and spoke to him.

"You must be Mr. Johnson," she said. "It’s a pleasure to finally meet you," she added in an attempt to diffuse the situation. He eyed her curiously for a moment and then turned his attention back to me.

"John," he said loud enough for all standing in line to hear. "We have to talk: now!" He commanded. I didn’t know what else to do. I gave Darla twenty dollars for the food and told her I’d meet her back at our seats. I walked away in a daze with a stranger by my side. I almost felt like screaming. Surely someone would come to my rescue if I did. But we just kept walking. He took me out in front of the stadium and began.

"You know, Samantha has turned out to be quite a ballplayer. I can see why you’re attracted to her. However, I can’t see why she’d be interested in you," he finished in disgust. So, this was his plan. He was going to attack and humiliate me till what? Till I broke down? Till I fought back? I was too numb to consider doing anything. He went on.

"I want you to tell your mother that you’re coming with me for the long weekend. Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to get that appointment with Dr. Wintergarden? For your mother to simply cancel it is unacceptable. Before you start protesting, I want you to consider the ramifications; one, I’ll win an expensive custody battle and ship you off to a military academy AND two, I’ll see to it that your mother is committed to a mental institution. I hope you don’t think I’m bluffing?" He finished.

My mind was spinning at a thousand miles per minute. To think just a few days ago I was so upset that he’d left. Now, I wished that he’d just go away. "I have to get back to my friends, they’ll be worried about me."

"You go enjoy the rest of the game. I’ll be over to pick you up at six. Our flight leaves at eight. Oh, and John, make sure you bring pants and only pants. If I see you looking "pretty," there’ll be hell to pay." Who was this person? I didn’t know him at all. I found myself unable to respond in any way. I simply walked back inside and made my way back to our seats. It was now the bottom of the sixth. Sam’s perfect game was still in effect. He just had to survive one more inning. The Waves clung to their one run lead. We never did catch up with Mom and Aunt Alice. Mom, I needed to speak to her.

Could I possibly convince her that I wanted to spend the weekend in New Jersey? I laughed aloud at the thought. Darla sensing my distress held my hand tightly in her own. I was in a state of shock. I wanted to cry but I was frozen. This all seemed so surreal. Did my father just threaten my existence? The first batter stepped up to the plate for the top of the seventh. A hush fell over the stadium. Sam looked like he was getting tired. He was surviving on sheer guile at this point. Kids our age weren’t supposed to throw curve balls, but Sam was and his was more than effective. The ball came at the batter and looked as though it would strike him in the head before angling down right over the heart of the plate and safely into the catcher’s mitt.

"Strike One!" The umpire exclaimed. I hadn’t even had time to consider how Dad had known I would be here today. Then, I remembered. He’d called Sam on the phone the other day. Could I really put on a pair of pants and go to New Jersey for the weekend? I’d rather visit the dentist. "Strike Two!" the umpire yelled again. My attention was nowhere near the game at that point. "You’re Out!" The umpire yelled at the batter. The crowd cheered and stood as one as the next batter came to the plate.

Two thousand people standing as one cheering on my sweetheart. Did he know how special he was? He seemed not to notice anything in the world but his catcher in front of him. "Strike One!" The ump yelled again. The next pitch was hit sharply to third base. For the first time in my life I found myself rooting for Billy not to mess up the play. He snapped up the ball expertly with his glove and fired to first; just in time. The first base umpire yanked his right arm up in an arc indicating that the runner was out. We all just stood there. Watching, waiting for what we hoped would be the last batter of the game.

Sam went into his windup and threw his fast-ball. It still had a fair amount of pop to it. "Strike One!" The umpire exhorted. Just two more strikes and Sam had his perfect game. I felt as nervous for him as he must have felt for himself. "Strike Two!" The umpire yelled before I could gather a thought. Just one more strike and the game would be over. The silence of the crowd was deafening. Sam seemed to be moving in slow-motion. He went into his windup, released his pitch. The ball seemed to dance and float all the way to the plate. "Strike Three!" The umpire yelled again.

People began screaming and cheering. They jumped over the fence and climbed onto the field. The players huddled protectively around Sam. The public address announcer begged people to please return to their seats. The crowd, for the moment, seemed uncontrollable. In a moment of inspiration, the announcer put on the Star Spangled Banner again. The crowd, as one, placed their hands over their hearts and the team was able to escape the field unscathed.

"We Won!" I exclaimed and hugged Darla tightly. She jumped for joy along with me. The overall scene defied description. It was perfect. OK, the game was over, I had more pressing matters at hand. I asked Aunt Vivian if I could borrow her cell phone. I had to contact Mom immediately. I dialed her number and she picked up on the third ring.

"Mom?" I yelled into the phone. "Where are you?" Mom and Aunt Alice had secured seats right behind the dugout. They couldn’t have been more than fifty feet in front of us. "I need to see you right now." I said with urgency in my voice. "Don’t move, I’ll be right there." I handed Aunt Viv back her phone, hugged her and told her I’d be going home with my Mom. She looked as though she had a ton of questions for me. The look in my eyes begged her not to ask them. I thanked Darla and Sally for coming and told them I’d contact them as soon as I was able. With that, I was gone. I made my way down the steps towards the field. The crowd was beginning to disperse.

I saw Mom and Aunt Alice standing right behind the dugout. I ran to her and hugged her with all my might. My eyes filled with tears. It was now just after three o’clock. I was shaking and unable to speak. Get ahold of yourself Joan, I screamed at my being. Finally, I calmed down. "Mom, I have to get home. I’m going to New Jersey for the weekend," I blurted out tearfully.

"You’re going where?" She screamed in return. Between sobs I told my mother that Dad had invited me to visit him in his new home and that I wanted to go. She stared at me incredulously. Then a look of betrayal swept over her face. "If that’s what you want to do Joan, it’s fine with me," she said with a hint of resignation in her voice. I wished that I could tell her about Dad’s threats. Still, I doubted my mother’s inner-strength. To burden her with the problem at hand just might push her over the edge.

"Thanks Mom, I really appreciate it," I said as bravely as I could. "Still, we have to get going. Dad’s picking me up at six." Aunt Alice, who had been listening to the entire exchange, chimed in. "We’d better get going then." Sam would be returning home on the team bus. I hoped I got a chance to tell him how wonderful he was before my father came to claim me. The ride home was a sad and silent one. Aunt Alice made a few attempts to talk about Sam, but Mom and I weren’t in the mood to respond.

Following orders, I scrubbed myself clean when I got home. I threw a few pairs of pants and shirts on the bed and managed to stuff everything into my backpack. I carefully hung my sundress up and put it away. I’d always remember wearing it to watch Sam’s pitching debut and the fantastic victory that he’d earned. If I did get to see him before he left, I was going to ask him for his autograph. I laughed at the thought, but I was serious too. I found the whitest baseball in my collection and set it aside.

I examined myself carefully before heading downstairs. Even without makeup, without girl clothes, there was no sign of John in the mirror. I smiled at my reflection and made my way down to the kitchen with my backpack in tow. Mom was sitting at the table with a cup of coffee in front of her; she was staring idly into space. She took one look at me and noticed that I was attempting to be "John" for my father. If only I could tell her that this wasn’t my idea. That I hated leaving her and wouldn’t but for the use of force. Her eyes welled up with tears and she began weeping softly.

"It’s all right Mom, it’s only for a couple of days," I told her. Her look told me she didn’t believe me. She thought I was abandoning her forever. We sat at the table and shared a cup of coffee and a cigarette. I’d slipped a pack into my "secret compartment" before putting in my clothes. My money and debit card sat snugly in my front jeans’ pocket. I was prepared for all contingencies. Oh how I wished Aunt Mel was here now. Dad never played Mr. Macho in front of Aunt Mel. Maybe she could help sort things out.

It was five o’clock when the love of my life came waltzing in the front door. I guess Aunt Alice had told him of my plans for he seemed rather distraught himself. He held me in his arms and reassured me that everything was going to be all right. I hadn’t mentioned the coercive nature of my planned trip with Dad. Sam seemed to know it all intuitively. I surrendered to his embrace. It ended all too soon and suddenly. I ran back up to my room to get the baseball for him to sign. I came back downstairs with the ball in one hand and a felt tipped pen in the other. I handed both to him ceremoniously. His grin nearly split his face in half as he autographed my ball.

Sam decided to stay till my Dad came to claim me. If he hadn’t done so willingly, I’d have begged him to. Hopefully, he’d be able to calm Mom down a bit after I was gone. The closer it got to six o’clock, the crazier this whole plan seemed. I was being forced to go somewhere I didn’t want to go to spend time with someone I didn’t want to know anymore. It was almost more than I could bear. Finally, Dad pulled up in his rental car. Mom still hadn’t moved from her perch at the kitchen table. I felt like a condemned woman walking that last mile.

The bastard didn’t even knock. He just waltzed in like he owned the place. I was going to have to tell Mom to change the locks and change them soon. He greeted Sam warmly and extended his congratulations on his victory. He simply eyed me with contempt. If he hated me so much, then why was he doing this? He walked down the hall and entered his former office. I thought/hoped he was going to have a stroke. His mouth opened wide and his jaw dropped; he didn’t say a word. I guess it was the next best thing.

His head shook from side to side as he took it all in. I thought for a moment that I saw a tear in his eye. His sadness made me happy and miserable simultaneously. Walking into the kitchen he sat down across from my mother. She looked at him but didn’t see him. I was half-tempted to just start running. I wasn’t so sure I could go through with this no matter what the cost. Sam held my hand tightly as we stood there watching them watching us. I couldn’t recall ever having felt worse in my life. Mom made Dad promise to have me back late Monday night. He agreed and we headed for the door.

She started crying and held me tight. I couldn’t bear the thought of her being so sad. "Dad, do we have to do this now?" I asked in a pleading voice. "Couldn’t we just plan this better? I could simply come down next Friday and you could meet me at the airport." He didn’t budge.

"Just get in the car," was all he said. Sam walked by my side as we made our way. Mom just stood in the doorway. God, I was so worried about her. My father’s insensitivity towards my mother’s feelings angered me all the more. We weren’t off on some joyful excursion as parent and child. Just what we were doing escaped me entirely. A few tears began trickling down Sam’s cheeks as I hugged him close and took my seat in the front of the car. Without a word, Dad headed for the airport.

We arrived at the rental car lot. Neither of us had said a word. Dad handed me an envelope. "OK, now take those things out and put them in here." For a moment, I hadn’t a clue as to what he was talking about. "Those things in your ears," he said for purposes of clarification. I gave him a look which suggested that he couldn’t be serious. Still, I remained silent. "I didn’t travel over four hundred miles to spend time with some sissy boy. Now take them out and put them in the envelope or I’ll do it for you." I reached for the door handle, I was going to run. "Don’t even think about it John," he screamed before falling silent again.

I’d never taken them out before. I honestly wasn’t sure how. However, I wasn’t going to ask that bastard for help. It took me a few minutes but I finally got all four of them out and put them in the envelope. I stuck it in my pocket. There was no way I was giving possession of my precious earrings to him.

"You’re starting to look more like my son already," he said and smiled. I think he expected me to smile back at him. As far as I was concerned there was nothing to smile about. I was glad I’d packed so light. At this point I wasn’t sure that I’d last till Monday. He checked his car in and we headed to the boarding gate. "You’re just going to love New Jersey," he said seriously. I shook my head in disbelief. I didn’t know this person at all.

The flight attendant directed us to our seats. The plane took off without event. I’d never flown before; I was happy for the experience. We’d been in the air for a few minutes when a flight attendant appeared by our side. "Can I get you anything Sir? Miss?" She said addressing me. I broke into a wide grin and my heart thanked her with every fiber of my being. Dad was livid with anger and almost went ballistic. He took a deep breath and informed the attendant that we were both fine. I smiled smugly and said nary a word.

Two hours later our flight arrived at the tiny Atlantic City Airport. Neither of us had any checked baggage to claim. I silently followed his lead. A diminutive brunette, no older than twenty-five and obviously very pregnant approached us. Her smile widened as my father and I approached. So this was my mother’s replacement, I thought bitterly as she hugged and kissed my Dad.

"You must be John!" She said as if we were old best friends. I had so many conflicting emotions. This woman was the reason that Dad had left. Honestly, she didn’t seem all that much older than I was myself. She had a certain naiveté’ about her. It was as if she was a pawn in my father’s twisted game. But for what she’d done to our home, I could have liked her. Still I said nothing by way of reply and followed them out to the parking lot. Doreen (that was her name) seemed genuinely happy that I was there. Maybe this visit wouldn’t be so horrible after all.

We drove up the Jersey coast for about an hour before we finally pulled into the driveway of a home that rivaled Darla’s own. This one was on the beach itself. It was truly a magnificent residence. Seeing it filled me more with anger than anything else. Mom and I were pinching pennies and here Dad was living in an ocean front mansion. "Do you like it John?" My father asked proudly. I wanted to tell him to stuff his house and his house-mate. Instead, I kept my cool and didn’t utter a word. I followed them a few steps behind as they walked arm-in-arm to the main entrance.

A maid greeted us at the door! "Andrea, this is John, he’ll be staying with us for a few days," my father informed her nonchalantly. I wondered if he had any idea how all of this was making me feel; he couldn’t have. Andrea showed me to my room. It was a "boy’s" room in every sense of the word. Painted a respectable federal blue, it had its own private bath. The room too was similar to Darla’s in size and scope. I had no idea "we" had that kind of money. How could my father have treated my mother so badly? He had all this, and he needed me for… for what exactly?

"I hope you find everything to your satisfaction, Master John," Andrea said with a proper British accent before making her exit. I wondered if the name of this town was listed in the directory of "The Twilight Zone." This was more than I could fathom. I lay upon the bed and wished that I had Josam with me. I hugged a pillow tightly as a poor substitute.

What was I doing here? I found myself rooting through my backpack in search of a lipstick that I knew wasn’t there. I took my earrings out of the envelope and quite awhile after, I had them properly inserted. If the asshole didn’t like it, too bad for him. I missed my mother, I missed Sam. Thoughts of Darla, and Aunt Vivian and yes, even Mr. Ferris filled my head. What indeed was I doing here?

I couldn’t stay in my room till it was time to go home, could I? I laughingly searched the room for a bell to call the maid; there was none. The computer on the side table seemed first-rate and it summoned me. I had it fired up in an instant and soon found myself online. I composed a quick email to Mom simply telling her that I’d arrived safely and would be home soon. I cc’d the letter to both Darla and Sam. I just wanted to go home.

It was closing in on midnight as I finally crawled under the sheets. I guessed that my father thought that I’d be impressed by all of this. Despite the beauty of the surroundings and all the amenities, he was wrong. I cried myself to sleep…

Notes:

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Synopsis:

Joan and her father come to an understanding (of sorts). She arrives home in time to spend the 4th of July with Sam.

Story:

Chapter 9

Homeward Bound

Sunday morning I awoke in a strange bed, in a strange place. I still wasn’t sure why my father had dragged me down here. It obviously wasn’t an "act of love." I made use of the private bath. The shower didn’t help at all. I felt dead both inside and out. I donned a clean pair of jeans and pulled a polo shirt over my head. Realizing that I couldn’t stay in the room forever, I made my way downstairs. I had no interest whatsoever in exploring this palatial mansion. I just wanted to go home.

Was I being unfair? Maybe. Still, my father had essentially kidnapped me and had taken me away while my mother stood by and wept. Thoughts of escape filled my head. I heard voices in the back of the house. I cautiously followed the sounds. As the words became clear I stopped dead in my tracks. Doreen was busily telling my father that what he had planned for me was unfair. She just went on and on. It seemed my father had other ideas about the length of my stay. He finally told her to shut up; I was his son and he’d deal with me as he saw fit. I tiptoed back to the foot of the stairs and made my way as noisily as I could in their direction.

Dad and his girlfriend sat at the kitchen table. Doreen smiled at me as I entered the room. The largest German Shepherd I’d ever seen lay peacefully at her feet. My father seemed focused on the Wall Street Journal in front of him. "Good morning John," she said in a welcoming tone. "Did you sleep alright?" She asked with concern. Maybe I could reason with her? Had I found an ally? Perhaps she just wanted me out of the way. I didn’t care what her motivations were. If she was willing to help me escape this place, that was good enough for me.

I put on my best (fake) smile and told her that I’d slept well and that everything had been perfect. Dad never said a word. His glasses positioned half way down his nose, he pretended to be lost in the stock market report. I felt as out of place as humanly possible. The clothes weren’t right, the surroundings weren’t right, and worst of all, the people weren’t "right."

"What would you like for breakfast?" She asked me. I told her that I wasn’t hungry at all. "Nonsense, a growing girl has to eat," she exhorted and realized her mistake immediately. My father glared at her over the top of his paper. I surreptitiously smiled my thanks. She seemed to understand and accept it. Without another word, she brought me a bowl of Cheerios. The three of us sat at the table and no one said a word. Finally, I just had to ask.

"So Dad? What time is my flight back home tomorrow?" He looked at me as though I was a mental defective; like I hadn’t a clue I did nothing to dissuade him of my apparent naiveté’. I figured the dumber he thought I was, the easier it would be to escape. He totally ignored my question.

"Doreen’s going to cut your hair for you this morning. Maybe then you’ll look a bit more like my son and less like my daughter." She looked as horrified as I felt at his statement. Her voice rose as she replied.

"Bobby, I’m not cutting her hair!" At the tone of her voice, the dog’s ears perked up. I silently thanked her for the use of correct pronouns. My father put down his paper and glared at her. Apparently I wasn’t doing his new relationship any good at all. Maybe in total frustration, he’d let me go?

He smiled smugly at the both of us and went back to reading his paper. The only thing that made sense was that this was his way of getting back at Mom for some unknown transgression. I knew he had to be wrong on that count. Mom had nothing but love in her heart for everything and everyone. I’d be on my way home by tomorrow if I had to walk the four hundred miles.

"Would you like a cup of coffee?" She asked me. She’d read my mind. Taking two travel mugs from the cabinet, she filled them up. "I’ll bet you take it black, don’t you?" She said smiling at me. Cups filled, we made our way out to the deck. The dog followed closely at her heels. "Want to see what the ocean looks like from this vantage point?" I shrugged my shoulders and followed her down the ramp and through a small gate at the back of the yard. She found some firm sand and carefully sat down. She motioned me to sit beside her. I did.

"Do you know why I’m here?" I had to ask. She looked at me and sighed.

"You should have never sent him that picture of you and your Mom. And, your sign-off on that particular email sent him over the edge. Just what were you hoping to accomplish? This?" Her eyes filled with tears. Part of me hated this woman. Another part wanted to thank her for taking that bastard away from us. I put my arm around her and attempted to console her. The dog began running for the surf. "Daisy, get over here," Doreen admonished. The dog pranced slowly back to where we were sitting. She exuded total confidence as she sat at her mistress’ feet.

"He doesn’t intend for me to leave tomorrow, does he?" I asked tentatively.
Doreen broke down and wept gently on my shoulder. The dog began to eye me as if I might make an excellent lunch for her. Her tears told me all that I needed to know. "Just what is his plan then?" She calmed down sufficiently and informed me of my father’s plan to enroll me in a military academy. He was going to make a "man" out of me or die trying. The bastard had used that very threat as a ploy to get me to accompany him. Doreen seemed genuinely afraid for me.

"If this is how he treats you, how’s he going to treat your sister?" she blurted. I sat there and sipped some of the coffee. I didn’t care what happened anymore. I removed my pack of Virginia Slims from my pocket and lit one. Doreen never said a word. So, I was going to have a sister. I thought sadly that most likely I’d never get to meet her.

"I wish I had some answers for you Doreen," I said assuming the role of adult. "I can only tell you that my father wasn’t always the crazy person he seems to be today." She began to explain how loving he’d been. I cut her off. I didn’t want to know about her relationship with my father. For her to assume that I did was simply asking too much. A seed of an idea began growing in my mind. I finally realized just how I was going to escape this "paradise."

"Doreen, is there a drug store around here?" I asked her. She simply smiled at me when I stood up. I hadn’t paid any attention to the magnificent views the beach here provided. She extended her hand to me and I gently helped her rise to her feet. We walked along the beach for about half a mile when we came to a small boardwalk. There were a number of shops and one of them was indeed a drugstore. I left Doreen and Daisy sitting on a bench and made my way inside the store. It didn’t take long to figure out that they had everything that I needed. I made my purchases and returned to the bench where I’d left them.

"Doreen, I can’t help you out other than to tell you that I am going home tomorrow." A huge look of relief swept over her face. She wanted me gone as much as I wanted to go. I found myself wishing that she was the proto-typical wicked stepmother so that I could simply hate her. We made our way back to the fortress. I thanked her for showing me around and made my way up to "my" room. My father was nowhere in sight. Once inside the room I emptied the contents of the bag on the desk: one disposable camera; one envelope large enough to accommodate it; and enough postage to ship myself home. I began photographing everything: the front of the house, the back of the house, the automobiles, and yes, I even took a shot of Andrea when her attention was diverted elsewhere.

I put the camera in the envelope, told Doreen I was going for a walk and would be back in a little bit, and left. I made my way back to the drugstore and put the camera in the mailbox in front of the store. It was all (I hoped) the insurance that I needed. My brief note simply said; Mom, this is where and how Dad is living now. Surely the significance couldn’t escape her? Besides, I hoped to be home long before that envelope arrived. With my task completed, my mood brightened considerably. I found myself purchasing the cutest red lipstick. It was on sale! I used the tiny mirror in the store to apply a coat to my lips. I smiled at my reflection; I was done pretending for Dad.

The clerk’s gushing that the color looked perfect on me only made my smile widen. For the first time since I’d arrived, I became aware of my surroundings. Under different circumstances the location would have been idyllic. The boardwalk and the surroundings had a certain charm that our resort town lacked. I bought myself a piece of pizza and a coke and sat on a bench staring out to sea while I ate. I finished up and had a smoke. A police officer eyed me suspiciously before shaking his head from side to side and moving on.

I practically danced all the way back to my prison. I decided to email Mom when I got back. I hoped she’d forgive me for leaving the way that I did. More importantly, I hoped that she was all right. Andrea greeted me upon entering. "Can I help you Miss?" She asked not recognizing who I was. Impulsively, I gave her a quick hug and went up to my room. The phone next to my bed rang. I picked it up tentatively. It was Andrea: she informed me that dinner would be served in one hour and that I’d best not show up at the table wearing lipstick. I thanked her for her concern and hung up the phone.

Hell, she was probably right. No sense in rubbing salt in the wound. In retrospect, I guessed I’d done that with my last email to Dad. I composed a quick letter to Mom and told her I’d be home tomorrow. I found myself wondering whether I’d made a mistake after I’d hit the send button. Surely he’d have to let me go home now, wouldn’t he?

We had our dinner in the kitchen. It seemed some things never changed. Still, the view of the ocean from the table was beyond magnificent. The barbecued spare ribs were first rate and I found myself eating more than I should have. Dad almost seemed encouraged by my appetite’s return. The conversation was light and as close to pleasant as the circumstances allowed. Doreen seemed greatly relieved by the current turn of events. Daisy, as ever, was perched at her feet. Finally, Dad asked me what I’d like to do during the upcoming week. The mood at the table changed abruptly.

"Dad, we have to talk. I’m going home tomorrow, remember?" I said with more confidence in my voice than I felt.

"You’re going to do what I tell you to do," he said sternly. My eyes gave Doreen a pleading look. She excused herself from the table and took Daisy out to the beach.

"Dad, I am going home tomorrow." I said with a hint of a threat in my voice. My father almost seemed amused by my tone.

"And what makes you think that, young man?" The "young man" was added to let me know just "who" was the boss in this situation. It was now or never. I began to doubt my plan as the words slowly tumbled out of my mouth. I took a deep breath and began.

"This is quite a place you’ve got here; an ocean front mansion of this size in our humble state would easily cost more than a million dollars." He actually smiled at me! Did he think I was complimenting him? "And the cars! Of all of them I think I like the Corvette the best." I played along.

"I’m glad you appreciate the value of a dollar son," he said solemnly.

"I do Dad, I do, but that’s not my point." He looked at me inquisitively and I continued. "What do you think Mom would say about your current life style?" I said in as threatening a tone as I could muster. "It’s obvious to me that if the true nature of your "hidden" assets came out that there’d be quite a drastic change in your property settlement." I had only a vague idea of what I was talking about. Still, I did know that we lived in a community property state. I knew I was way out of my depth, but I continued.

Suddenly, he seemed to become irate. "John, when it comes to financial matters, your mother is a babe in the woods." The game was escalating. It was time to play my trump card.

"That may be Dad, but I think the pictures I sent her this afternoon might help her to see the light." There it was. My cards were on the table. It was now his play.

"You did what?" he asked incredulously. I went on to explain that I’d photographed everything of "value" I could find and mailed the pictures to Mom that very afternoon. I knew that Mom didn’t care about money. Still, I hoped she could see what a bargaining tool it could be.

"I think I could convince her not to pursue matters on one condition: You leave us alone. You sign papers granting her complete custody of me. We’ll be out of your life forever more." My eyes filled with tears as I said the last of it. It wasn’t the way I wanted things. But, there was no way I was yielding to this strict authoritarian rat-bastard. He seemed to consider my statements.

"That’s not a bad argument John," he said with a certain twisted pride in his voice. "But, what makes you think that anything you see here belongs to me?" The smile on his face let me know I’d over-played my hand. My face fell; my jaw dropped. Perhaps I’d made too many assumptions? Was he simply toying with me? It never occurred to me that all of this wasn’t "his."

At length a strange look of defeat consumed his face. I sat there and waited.
"I’ll tell you what," he continued. "You want to go back to her and be her little sissy boy well, you can leave right now. Go pack your things and I’ll take you to the airport." He said with more than a hint of disgust in his voice. There had never been anything I wanted more. I jumped up from the table and ran to my room to retrieve my things. I considered, just for a moment, putting some lipstick on. I decided not to rub any salt in his wounds and would wait till I was safely aboard my flight home.

He and Doreen were waiting for me when I came down the stairs. I felt really bad about the sister that I’d never know. I asked Doreen for her email address and promised to write to her. She smiled at me and gave me a hug. Dad and I made our way to the airport in his shiny new red corvette. I was grateful when he popped in a disc of some obscure classical music. There wouldn’t be any need for conversation. An hour later we arrived at the airport. There was one more flight home leaving in just over an hour. Dad paid for my ticket and handed it to me wordlessly. We stood there and stared into each other’s eyes for a moment. The look in his own begged forgiveness. Still, in the end he didn’t say a word; he simply walked away.

He wasn’t even going to stay and see me off on my flight. I didn’t care. I was beyond happy to be rid of him. I found a pay phone and made a collect call to my mother. She practically exploded with joy upon hearing my voice.

"Joan, how are you? Are you OK?" she asked with worry in her voice.

"I’m fine Mom!" I yelled. "Can you pick me up at the airport at eleven o’clock? I’m coming in on flight 1203 out of Atlantic City." She laughed and told me she’d be there with bells on. She had a million questions but I just told her we’d talk when she picked me up. I hung up the phone and made my way to the ladies’ room. I put on my lipstick and took a seat on the concourse waiting for my flight to be called.

Now that I was free of him, I found myself hoping that at some point we could work it all out. I knew in my heart though that he’d never accept me as Joan. I couldn’t blame him. It was my fault, not his. I was drowning under waves of sadness and despair. Finally my flight was called and I made my way to the boarding gate. A few older males leered at me creepily. I did my best to ignore them. I continued onward and took my seat on the plane awaiting takeoff.

I was so relieved to be going home. I began to wonder just what would be the proper approach to take with my mother. Sure, Dad deserved the best, but what about us? Hell, I couldn’t even get my allowance because money was "tight." And, it’s not like I took the money as a given. I worked my ass off for that meager pittance. I hoped that Mom would be able to handle a serious conversation with her fourteen year old daughter about matters of finance. Sure it was her future we were talking about, but it was my future too. I became lost in thought as the pilot announced that we should fasten our seat belts. The plane would be landing in ten minutes.

i was never so happy to be home in my life. Like Dorothy before me, I found myself chanting: "there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home." Mom greeted me at the gate. Her face was bathed in so many emotions it was hard to discern the most significant among them: still, if I had to bet on one, I’d have put my money on "relief." We fell into each other’s arms and hugged for what seemed like forever. Finally she looked at me and said "I love your new lipstick." We both burst out laughing like a couple who’d just escaped the booby hatch.

We rode home in silence as I tried to figure out just what and how much to tell her. We stayed up into the wee hours drinking coffee and smoking. I told her the entire sordid story. She seemed more angry than sad as I completed my tale. I took that as a good sign. She wasn’t going to roll over and die. She was going to fight. I knew one thing for sure. Nothing was going to get me back to New Jersey any time soon. Beyond exhausted, we made our way upstairs and to bed. I ran into my room and hugged Teddy and Josam till I thought the stuffing was going to come out of them. That evening I slept the sleep of the just.

Monday morning arrived and I awoke just before eleven. It was the final day of the holiday weekend and I was home and in my own bed! I can’t begin to describe how good that felt. I called Sam first thing and let him know that I was home. He seemed elated.

"Joan did you see the story about us in the newspaper?" He asked me. A story in the paper; about us? I laughed and told him I had no idea what he was talking about. "I’ll bring it over for you so you can read it later," he said. It seemed that Sam had pitched the first perfect game in "Waves" history. I was so damned happy for him. It seemed like years since he’d last held me in his arms. "Oh, and Joan! The ski ball contest is at 3:00! You haven’t forgotten have you?" Damn, but he sounded just like a kid on Christmas morning.

"No sweetheart, I haven’t forgotten," I assured him. We made plans for him to pick me up at two o’clock. I went downstairs and hugged Shandy till she begged for relief. God, it felt so damned good to be home. I went upstairs and showered. I took a long time expertly applying my makeup. I put on my bra and sadly stuffed the cups with my breast forms. I bathed myself in Cool Water and put on my new green skort and matching top. It was already afternoon, but I made Mom breakfast and served it to her in bed. We stared at each other briefly. Both of us were wearing ear-to-ear smiles.

I went and checked my email. There was a letter from Aunt Mel asking me if I was alright. Apparently my mother had emailed her and told her of my "kidnapping." Good for her, I thought. Mom was apparently stronger than I’d thought. I replied to Aunt Melissa telling her that I was home and that all was well with the world. I also told her that I looked forward to seeing her in a few weeks. Then I composed a short letter to Doreen telling her that I’d arrived home safely and thanking for her for doing her best during my brief stay. I also asked that she keep my posted on the birth of my sister.

I went back downstairs and surveyed "my" kitchen. Sure it was incredibly humble next to the magnificence of my father’s current residence. But, it felt more "real" somehow. Love resided within these walls. I beamed with excitement as I took a rag and cleaned off the counters. I was literally on top of the world!

A short time later Sam arrived with newspaper in hand. He grinned sheepishly at me and gave me a hug to end all hugs. "I bought this copy for you." He said and proudly handed me the paper. I took it from him gently and gave it the proper respect due. We walked into the kitchen and he stared at me as I viewed, with awe, his picture on the front page. He smiled at me as I read the story.

"I guess I’d better order a glass case for that baseball you autographed for me?" I said and laughed. He almost seemed offended. I reassured him that it was the most memorable game I’d ever seen and thoughts of his magnificent performance would remain with me always. I ran up to my room and placed the paper on my dresser. "Come on Sam, let’s get out of here." I told him when I came back down. We slowly made our way to the boardwalk. There was no place on earth I’d rather be than here holding his hand.

The population of our humble town had grown to beyond bursting that sunny 4th of July afternoon. Summertime was in full swing. A cacophony of sounds assaulted our ears. I took a cigarette from my purse and lit it as we lazily continued our walk towards the arcade. If there was a heaven, it couldn’t be any more magnificent than our small town of Ocean Beach in mid-summer.

"Well, are you ready for this?" He asked me.

"I don’t know?" I replied. "Do you think they’ll put my picture on the front page of the paper when I whip your butt at ski ball?" I asked him with mock sincerity. He laughed at me by way of reply. To be honest, at that point, I didn’t care WHO won or lost the ski ball tournament. Still, I was determined to give it the best that I had. We made our way over to the ski ball area and signed in for the tournament. First prize was a cool $500. Still, with over one hundred people signed up, it was anybody’s game. The twenty alleys were already seeing some serious action.

Sam and I were to bowl in the third heat. Official scorekeepers kept track of the goings on. A game of less than 400 (out of a possible 450) was a losing game. It was finally time for us to play. It felt weird starting the machine without having to put in a coin. "Ladies and Gentlemen," the huckster announced, "Begin!" I kept my eyes on my own alley. I wasn’t going to pay any attention to Sam or anyone else as we began playing.

The game ended and I had the highest score in that round; I’d bowled a solid 430. Sam tied with several others at 400. We waited for what seemed like forever for our chance to play again. This time, I hit 440. I’d missed the tiniest slot with my last ball. It was the highest score of the day thus far. I began to wonder if I had another perfect game in me. Finally, we took our third and final try at the game. I knew I was in the running for first place. I just had no idea just how close I was.

Going into the final frame of the final game, I had a perfect score. I did my best to tune everything out. I became one with the machine. I slowly released the ball up the ramp. It seemed to hesitate as it headed for the fifty point socket. I held my breath and urged it in. The ball fell where I’d aimed it! I was on cloud nine. Sam gave me a hug and informed me that I owed him two hundred and fifty dollars. I laughed a joyous laugh and told him: no problem! I WON! A photographer from the local paper did indeed take my picture, though it wouldn’t appear on the front page, at least it was something. I held the oversized check in front of me, wearing a shit-eating- grin while my picture was taken.

I endorsed said check and the cashier paid me off in twenties. I had to force the two hundred and fifty on Sam, but a deal was a deal. He insisted on buying me dinner. I laughed and told him I wanted lobster. He laughed in return and told me: no problem. We sat in the fine restaurant overlooking the ocean and made short work of our offerings. Life was indeed perfect.

"OK, so everybody has to be good at something," Sam said as he acknowledged my victory over him.

"Just remember WHO the ski ball champ is," I replied. He smiled a grateful smile at me.

"I love you Joan," he said with tears in his eyes. I took his hands in my own and kissed them tenderly.

"Sam, you mean the world to me," I replied with total sincerity.

We spent the rest of the afternoon riding the rides and laughing at and with the tourists. It was a perfect afternoon. Just twenty-four hours earlier my entire life was in limbo. Now, I was home with those that I loved. I really couldn’t ask for anything more. Sam never let me spend a dime that day. I truly was the luckiest girl in the world.

Our evening ended with the fireworks display. The show was beyond description. With each and every boom of the pyrotechnics, my heart skipped a beat. Sam kissed me often and repeatedly as the sky above lit up with color. I was beyond happy as the show ended and we made our way back home. The only thing that could have made the day better would have been for Sam to take me in his arms and carry me off to bed. Alas, that wasn’t to be.

He held me close outside my front door and kissed me till I felt like my lips were going to fall off. The heat that was generated between us could have fueled the entire township for weeks.

"I love you Sam with all that I am or all that I ever will be," I said at last.

He smiled at me and pulled my head tightly to his chest. He kissed the top of my head incessantly. We bade each other farewell and I slowly walked inside ready for whatever tomorrow might bring.

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Synopsis:

Joan begins a new career. A shopping trip with Mom ensues.The girls make plans for a birthday party and the two young teens continue falling in and out of love.

Story:

Chapter 10

All the Things I’ve Done Before

Mom was as sweet as could be when I came through the door. We hugged briefly and she asked me if I’d had a good day with Sam. I told her it was the best day ever all the while thinking of the night I’d spent in his arms just a short while ago. I decided I’d better tell her about the ski ball tournament. There was likely to be a story about it in tomorrow’s paper. Of course, she asked me what I was going to do with all the money. I told her I gave Sam half and planned on banking the rest. She looked at me like I was nuts. Even after I explained my agreement with Sam. I only hoped she was as hard on my father when it came time for the property settlement.

I had a fantastic night’s sleep and woke up Tuesday morning ready to face the week. I put on my khaki skort and top and peddled off to work without a care in the world. We all grinned at one another when I entered the shop. I’d never again complain about sanding wood. The day passed rapidly and I found myself on Darla’s front doorstep before I even realized where I was; hoping that Aunt Vivian was home. Thankfully, she answered the door and welcomed me in with a quick hug. "Are you here to see Darla?" She asked me.

"Actually, I was hoping we could talk, if you’ve got some time?" I begged. She ushered me into the kitchen and poured us both a cup of coffee. I relayed the story of my trip to New Jersey. Aunt Vivian told me she was aware. It seems that my mother had called her on Saturday night filled with worry for me. My own estimation of my mother’s abilities grew with each new tale related. She wasn’t likely to crack under pressure as I’d feared. I heaved a huge sigh of relief as I pieced it all together. Had I worried Aunt Mel for nothing?

Finally, she asked me how things had gone overall with my father. I told her of his plan to send me to a military academy and thereby magically make me into some kind of macho man. And, of his seeming disgust with me when he realized that wasn’t going to happen. I finished my tale with him walking away from me wordlessly after handing me my airline ticket; as if he didn’t care what became of me. I hadn’t realized the import of his actions till now. I broke down and wept. Aunt Vivian did her best to comfort me. She told me how difficult this must be for him; losing his only son.

Feelings of self-hatred began to overtake me. I didn’t deserve to live. Aunt Viv sensed what was going through my mind and assured me that it wasn’t my fault. If only I could believe her. We talked for awhile longer. Aunt Viv told me how happy she was for having gone to the ball game. "Your boyfriend is really something else," she beamed at me. I hugged her and thanked her for her time. We mutually agreed that Thursday evening would be best for my next appointment. She told me to call her or just drop by anytime I needed to talk. I pedaled home feeling better about everything.

Wednesday afternoon I found myself wandering down Main Street. I made a $300 deposit in my checking account. If there had been a story about me and my ski ball win, no one had mentioned it to me. I guess I wasn’t worthy of "fifteen minutes of fame." That’s OK, at least I’d know that I’d done it. I wondered if my skills would translate to actual bowling. I’d never been.

Mr. Hospin, true to his word, had lined up a few painting jobs for me. I’d be making more money doing that than I imagined any fourteen year old could. I’m not sure why, but I was determined to save every nickel I could get my hands on. Mr. Ferris paid me as usual on Thursday. There was $90 in my envelope; it should only have been eighty. I told him of his mistake and he apologized for not telling me he was giving me a $10 raise. He stood like a statue when I gave him a quick hug.

My appointment with Aunt Vivian on Thursday evening left me feeling a bit frustrated. I began to wonder just what we were attempting to accomplish. We’d talk about my feelings and how I relate to the world. On occasion, she’d throw me a curve ball. "Where do you see yourself in five years; in ten?" My answer was always the same: as Joan and with Sam. I’m not sure if that’s what she was going for, but she didn’t press the matter. I loved the lady dearly, but this formal arrangement irked me somehow.

Sam’s Saturday game would be out of county. They were playing the Cumberland Clippers. I had no way to get there and, besides, Sam wouldn’t be pitching. There were three starting pitchers on the team and though Sam had had more than enough rest, all players were to be given a chance.

I had my first "paid painting job" on Friday. The Moores seemed more (ha ha) than a bit surprised when I knocked on their door and explained who I was and why I was there. For a moment I thought they were going to send me on my way, that it had all been a big mistake. I calmed them down and told them how lovely their house was, started asking about color selections, and told them a bit about my own expertise. In the end, they let me do the job. They were beyond satisfied with the way it turned out. So was I. For three hours work I had another sixty dollars to sock away.

Another Friday night rolled around and Sam still couldn’t go out. He was home this time, but had a nine o’clock curfew. I couldn’t believe he was taking it that seriously. After all, who’d ever know? Still, he was adamant about obeying the rules. I didn’t pester him about it. It was too important to him. We were sitting in his living room. He finally ran upstairs and came back down with Tuesday’s newspaper. My picture was centered on page one --- of the Arts and Leisure section. He beamed at me when he told me to keep it, that he had another stored safely away. My first thought was to scan the picture and the article and send it to my Dad. Despite all that had happened, I missed him.

In the end, I did scan it and send it, but I sent it to Doreen. We’d exchanged a few emails already. She told me that my father seemed deeply upset about the way things had transpired. I think the only reason that I liked her was that she was going to be the mother of my sister. I’d always dreamed of having a sister. Except now, I was about old enough to be a mother myself, I’d probably never get to see her, and she wouldn’t be my mother’s child. The conflicting emotions could get pretty confusing at times.

I hadn’t talked to Mom again about the situation with Dad. I only hoped that she was doing something about it and not just letting it all slide by. I knew what I’d do. I’d hire an investigator and find out just who owned all those assets. I doubted Dad’s story that they didn’t belong to him.

Saturday rolled around and I went to the beach with Sally and Darla. Darla hadn’t mentioned Sarah in awhile. I wondered if there was trouble in paradise. I’d forgotten just how much fun Sally could be. Time passed easily and quickly in her presence. We gritted our teeth (from the cold) and spent a few hours frolicking in the ocean. A few boys tried to garner our attention but each time they did, Sally would shoo them away, explaining that we were all spoken for. I had no idea that Sally had a love interest. I was so tempted to ask her about it, but I decided that if she wanted to talk, she would.

We ate hot dogs on the boardwalk. We paraded about like we owned the place and that the visitors were only there by our good graces. It wasn’t snobbishness exactly, but more of a "pride of ownership" kind of thing. We walked arm-in-arm-in-arm as we traversed the boards, with Darla at the center. It felt great to finally have some friends. I’d spent my entire life in Sam’s company and his alone. While I wouldn’t trade that for anything, this was different; something special.

"So, what are you doing for your birthday, Joan? Are you having a sleep over?" This from Darla. I honestly hadn’t given any thought concerning birthday celebrations.

"I don’t know. If I did have one would you guys come?" I asked them. The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea. Yet, our house was tiny. We had no swimming pool or fancy anything. Just a modest house, sitting on a modest piece of property. In the end I voiced my opinion about my house’s shortcomings. Both Darla and Sally assured me that I was being ridiculous and that I’d "better" have a party as they both planned to attend. I beamed at them and hugged them both tightly. It was good being me. The rest of the day passed quickly and we said our goodbyes at the entry ramp for Webster Ave.

I offered to walk each of them home. They looked at me like I was nuts. I then told them that I’d be calling about birthday plans tomorrow. There wasn’t much time left. My actual birthday was a week from tomorrow. The short walk home passed in minutes. Somehow I’d managed to get sand inside my suit. I was going to need another bathing suit. I couldn’t make it through the rest of the summer with just the one.

I shouted out to Mom upon arrival, stripped my suit off carefully so as not to get sand everywhere, turned on the shower and luxuriated in the fine spray of warm water. I found myself wondering what Mom was making for dinner. It felt good to have the weekends off from that task. I put on my sundress and full makeup and realized that I needed some more clothing choices too. Oh, and definitely some new earrings. With thoughts like these, I’d never be able to hang on to my money. I laughed to myself as I made my way downstairs.

Mom was busy at her machine. It made me smile every time I saw her there. Just knowing that I could give her this "gift" was far more rewarding than anything I could have ever hoped for. She was working on new curtains for the living room. The only problem was, I didn’t think the colors would match exactly. Mom looked up at me and voiced my thoughts.

"You know Joan, these curtains really are beautiful. But, I don’t think they’re going to match the paint on the walls." I could see where this was headed. "Since you did such an excellent job in here, I was wondering if you’d paint the living room for us?" What could I say?

"Sure Mom, I’d be happy to, but I don’t work cheap. I charge twenty dollars an hour." Where had that last bit come from? Truth be told, I was still a bit angry at being forced to forfeit my allowance. It wasn’t the money. I guess the cash was in some way a symbol of appreciation. Mom laughed at that.

"Well, I’ve been thinking about that," she said. "And no, I’m not going to pay you twenty dollars an hour!" She laughed again. I found myself wondering whether she realized that I was actually making that much. "Still, I am going to reinstate your allowance," she said matter of factly. Had she had it out with Dad? Had she simply realized that money wasn’t as tight as she thought it was? I tried asking what had changed, but I was greeted by a stone wall.

"Mom, you do realize this is going to be a much bigger job than the sewing room, don’t you? The size of the room alone, the hallways, going up the stairs. All the extra trim work. Stair treads, etc. And, you’re going to need five gallons of paint." I said after eyeing the project carefully.

"Five gallons!" She exclaimed.

"Yes Mom, five gallons. Three for the walls, one for the ceiling, and one for the trim. Not to mention new rollers and other incidentals." She smiled at me and hugged me tight. She asked me if I wanted to go to the mall. Said we could get a bite to eat and there were a few things she wanted to get me. Ah! A shopping trip for me! I told her I’d love to go, but I had to call Sam first.

I called him up and asked him how the game had gone against the Clippers. He relayed more information than I wanted to know. "Did you win?" I asked at last.

"Well, it was like this," he went on undeterred. "We had a one run lead going into the bottom of the seventh. Roger told the coach that he couldn’t pitch another inning. I got the first save of my career!" Before I could tell him about going shopping with Mom, he asked me if it was alright if he went out with the guys that evening. I was a bit over enthusiastic when I told him that would be fine. We made arrangements to meet for breakfast tomorrow. We exchanged words of love and said our goodbyes.

I got changed. Pantyhose just didn’t work with the sundress and I was determined to try on some sandals. I put on my blue pleated skirt and decided to give my heels a try. They certainly made my legs look sexy. I walked cautiously downstairs, I felt just a wee bit wobbly in them.

Mom told me I looked beautiful but asked me if I thought wearing high heels to the mall was such a good idea. I smiled at her and told her I wouldn’t be wearing them all evening. I was going to get a pair of proper sandals. She gave me a reasonable nod and we were on our way.

We dined at the Burger Barn. I got more than a few looks from the boys as they passed by. It always made me feel a bit creepy, but part of me secretly liked the attention. Mom took it all in, but said nothing. Our first stop was the Shoe Emporium. I spent forever trying on sandals of every style imaginable. I wanted something both sexy and practical. I finally decided on a pair of wedgies. They were comfortable; fancy but sturdy and the overall height was only two inches. I put my heels in the now empty box and we made our way to the checkout counter. Just as I was reaching for my wallet, Mom took out her charge card and paid for them.

We then made our way to Macy’s. I couldn’t believe it. The swim wear was already fifty percent off. They were beginning to display the fall clothes already. It wasn’t even the middle of July! I picked out two suits. One, blue on blue with a plunging neckline and flared skirt, and another identical to the one I had only in green. Mom said it brought out my eyes. I had no idea how such a thing was possible, but I did like the color. I didn’t even reach for my wallet this time. Mom smiled at me as she placed the items on the counter for purchase.

"OK Joan, September will be here before you know it. What say we take note of the current styles so we know what patterns to buy to make you some new school clothes." Whoa! Where had that come from? I hadn’t given any thought as to what was going to happen come September. Could I really attend school as Joan? Sure, I wanted to; but how? Would I get my ass kicked every day of the week just for being me? I was reasonably sure that I could handle any difficulties that came to pass. I sighed and all such doubts slowly slipped away.

I looked at Mom warily, unsure whether I should say anything. In the end, I didn’t. We went and oohed and ahhed over the latest fall fashions. There were a few cute offerings that caught my eye. Not needing anything else for the moment, we made our way home. I really loved my new sandals. They’d be perfect for strolling the boards. I enjoyed being closer to Sam’s own height, though he seemed to be still growing.

It was closing in on nine o’clock when we arrived home. I asked Mom if it would be OK if I went out for a bit. She said that would be fine but to make sure I was home by ten. She put her cell phone in my purse; just for emergencies. I put the hundred and fifty that I’d earned that week in my drawer and walked to the boards with the crisp twenty that Mom had given me safely tucked in my purse. I soon found myself back in the arcade where the ski ball tournament had been held just a few days ago. I turned a deep shade of crimson when I saw my own picture prominently displayed on the wall beside the machines.

I laughed aloud when I realized that no one would ever pay it any notice. I thought about playing a game, but was reluctant to part with a quarter. Was I that much of a cheapskate? I laughed again, shook my head, and continued walking. I went back out to the boardwalk and bought myself a lemonade. I sipped at it delicately as I continued to wander about. A group of boys up ahead began making catcalls as I approached. Were those intended for me? I almost smiled at them when I heard a familiar voice.

"Leave her alone dickhead!" The voice exclaimed. It seemed Sam and his newfound moronic friends were amusing themselves by taunting girls as they passed by. I stared in disbelief as the group continued. Why Sam would associate with such a group of animals was beyond me. It’s funny: when I thought it was just a group of faceless idiots, I really didn’t care. Now that I knew Sam was among them, I was saddened beyond belief. I turned around and began walking in the opposite direction. A few more lewd suggestions were tossed my way.

I felt his running footsteps vibrate through the boards before I heard them. ‘Joan, wait!" He exclaimed as he grabbed my shoulder and attempted to turn me around. I yanked myself firmly from his grasp and continued walking. He walked silently beside me for quite awhile. "I’m sorry. If I’d known what they were going to do beforehand, I would have left sooner."

"Obviously I wasn’t the first one that they taunted," I said coldly. "Sam, I don’t mind your hanging out with the guys. But traveling around with a bunch of pack animals taking advantage of the weak, well, I thought better of you." I kept walking.

"Sweetheart, you’re right, I won’t ever do that again. It’s only a couple of them that are idiots, the rest are really nice guys. Please forgive me?" He asked as a few errant tears rolled down his cheeks.

"And what happens the next time they start in with that garbage?" I asked, needing to know.

"Darling, if anything like that ever happens again I’ll do my best to put a stop to it. Failing that, I’ll simply walk away. I’ve never been so embarrassed or ashamed in my life." He said with deep sincerity. I believed him. I saw the look on his face and in his eyes when he realized who the target of the taunts was. It only saddened me that he didn’t realize beforehand that it was simply wrong to act that way towards anyone. I caught him off guard and pulled him towards me. I hugged him tight right in the middle of the boardwalk. The group of losers had long ago lost interest in our actions.

We came upon a police officer as we continued on our way and I informed him of the group of rowdy boys taunting almost everyone who walked by. He thanked me for my concern, apologized on their behalf, and promised to look into it. He headed off with a look of determination in their general direction. Sam eyed me like he wanted to say something; in the end, he didn’t. We kept on walking.

"Sam, it’s getting late. I’ve got to be heading home."

"Already? Are you sure you can’t stay out awhile longer?" I opened my purse and removed Mom’s cell phone. Here goes nothing, I thought as I dialed our number.

"Mom!" I said excitedly when she picked up the phone. "I ran into Sam on the boardwalk. Would it be OK if I stayed out till eleven?" I asked in a pleading voice. Finally, realizing all that I’d been through, she relented. She made me promise to be home on the stroke of eleven however. Sam and I would have another hour to spend together.

"What would you like to do?" I asked him.

"Let’s go under the boardwalk and make mad passionate love for the next hour." He said with more seriousness in his voice than I could have imagined. As an alternative I suggested a walk in the breakers. We walked hand-in-hand while the waves gently crashed against our feet. We spoke idly of plans for the future and all the things we hoped to accomplish. Sam seemed impressed when I told him of my new job as a painter of rooms. "You’ll have to come over and paint my room for me," he whispered Finally, we headed for home. We stood outside my front door and kissed for quite some time as the moon bathed us in its faint yellow glow…

Mom was waiting for me when I walked in the front door. I was a few minutes late. She looked at her watch, but didn’t say a word. I sat down next to her and asked her if it’d be alright if I had a slumber party to honor my birthday.

"You and Sam sleeping together?" she stated with a bit of outrage. While I thought that would make for the perfect birthday, I laughed and told her that it would be just me and the girls. I told her that Darla and Sally wanted to come over for an evening next weekend. She knew that Darla wouldn’t be a problem, but she was concerned as to what Sally’s parents would think. I reminded her that Sally had been there at Darla’s party and at last she relented. She insisted on talking to Sally’s parents beforehand though. I sighed aloud. I guess I was both older and younger than I thought. I looked forward to the day when I wouldn’t have to ask anyone’s permission to do anything.

I began to think that maybe I could show them both how to sew a bit. Remembering Darla’s cool attitude about it, I figured there probably wouldn’t be any interest. Still, it was worth a shot. I hugged Mom goodnight and climbed the stairs to my bedroom. I hadn’t even realized I’d spent the evening walking around in my new sandals. They were that comfortable. There was just something about shoes that had me craving more. I loved the way they looked on my feet and how pretty and feminine they made me feel.

Sunday morning arrived and I remembered my date with Sam for breakfast. I guessed it would be OK to part with a few dollars for some decent food. He arrived at ten and we walked hand in hand down Main Street to the local IHOP. The waitress actually asked if we wanted smoking or non-smoking. Before I could say a word, Sam quickly replied: non-smoking. I eyed him with a bit of disappointment and we were escorted to our booth.

Sam had paid for everything last time, this time it was my turn to treat. While we sat there awaiting our food a young couple stopped at our table. "You’re Sam Peters, aren’t you?" the man said. Sam and I both looked up wondering what this was all about. He seemed a bit embarrassed by our expressions. He shuffled his feet and continued. "My wife and I saw you pitch last weekend. I used to pitch in college. I’ve never seen anyone as graceful or with more confidence and control on the pitching mound. I just wanted to thank you for the incredible show you put on."

Sam blushed and thanked him for his kind words. I just sat there staring in awe as the couple walked away from our table. Before he floated away to the ceiling, I said to him: "Sam, do you have any idea who that was!" I said it in such a way that he’d have to assume that I knew and that it was someone quite important. When he meekly replied that he had no idea, I told him, "neither do I." It seemed to work. Slowly but surely his feet were back on terra firma.

We tackled our breakfast with enthusiasm. This time, there’d be no need for a doggie bag. Sam simply ate everything I left on my plate. The bill came and I snatched it away before he could say a word. Twenty bucks for breakfast was a bit stiff (including the tip) but, what could you do?

"I need to walk off some of that food," he said as we exited the building.

"If you didn’t make such a pig of yourself, you wouldn’t be in such pain now," I admonished teasingly.

We walked a few miles that afternoon. From one end of the boardwalk to the other and back again. It was a beautiful summer’s day. I told him of my plans to have a slumber party. He laughed and asked me if my mother was really going to allow him to sleep over. For the first time in a long time I punched his arm playfully. He laughed and told me to be careful; that was the arm that was going to put food on the table. I smiled at his resolve. I only hoped it would be as easy as he seemed to think it would.

"Sam? How about if I have my party on Friday night? You have an early curfew anyway and maybe I could persuade the girls to come to the game on Saturday." It was a day game against the Buford County Blues. I still liked the name of our team the best: The Ocean County Waves. I then asked him if he had any idea how we might celebrate our upcoming birthdays together. He, like myself, hadn’t given it any thought. He promised me he’d get back to me tomorrow on that one. We walked home slowly and kissed goodbye at my front door.

"Joan, you’re home. Good!" My mother exclaimed as I entered the house. "You didn’t make any plans yet for your party, did you?" I told her that I hadn’t and waited for her to continue. Something was obviously up. "Well, I’ve got a date next Saturday night and I can’t have a house full of girls here running around unattended." She blurted out. I explained to her my plan to have my party on Friday night while I found myself wondering just how long she’d be gone on Saturday. Thoughts of sharing my bed with Sam filled my head.

Mom then handed me a color chart with the dusty gray she’d selected circled. She handed me a blank check and told me I could pick up the paint at will. I explained to her that I couldn’t carry five gallons of paint on my bicycle. She laughed at that and told me we could pick it up together tomorrow evening. We sat at the picnic table eating our dinner. I’d barbecued a London Broil for dinner. Yeah, I know, Mom was supposed to cook on the weekends, but somehow the grill work had been assigned to me. In all fairness, she took care of the salads and vegetables. I let her do the clean-up too. It was a fair trade.

After dinner I called Darla and told her of my plans to have the party on Friday night. She actually sounded quite excited about it. I asked her if she wanted to come to the game on Saturday as well. She replied that she hadn’t expected to enjoy the game as much as she had and would simply love to go. My next call to Sally was a much shorter one, but she loved the idea of the Friday night bash followed by the baseball game on Saturday too.

Mom and I spent the rest of the evening in the sewing room. I learned how to make pleats and measure hems. I know it sounds insane, but I loved working under her watchful eye; it really was fun. It was almost eleven. With my eyes drooping and my mouth yawning, I announced that I was headed for bed. I was asleep within seconds of my head hitting my pillow…

Notes:

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Synopsis:

Joan and Sam work things out. Joan finally expresses her needs to Dr. Raspberry. Mom gets the pictures of Dad’s new living quarters developed.

Story:

Chapter 11

Boys Don’t Cry

Monday at work seemed like any other day. Still, for some reason, the wood actually smelled sweeter that day. Mr. Ferris asked me if I could work another five hours a week. I apologized, and told him that would be impossible. He looked at me quizzically and I explained about my new painting career. He laughed, shook his head, and we both got back to work. I tried to think of something new and exciting to do with Sam for our birthday celebration.

I stopped by the paint store on the way home to make sure Mr. Hospin had the paint that Mom wanted. I knew that if he didn’t have it, he’d try and force an alternative on me. Of course, he did have it in stock. I began to wonder about my own loyalties as I realized buying the paint from him would add fifteen dollars to the cost. Finally, Mr. Hospin came over to me with a huge grin on his face.

"Joan!" He greeted me like I was his long lost granddaughter. "I knew I was right about you." He continued. Hmm, was that a compliment? "The Moores called me first thing Saturday morning. They were absolutely delighted with the work you did for them. I’ve got a list of jobs here for you that will keep you busy all summer long!" Just a few minutes ago I was thinking of asking for a discount on the paint! And, here he was handing me a list of names that would keep me busy through Labor Day and beyond.

I took the list from him and gave him a warm hug. I told him that I’d be back that evening to purchase some paint. I left the paint store and headed over to the bank. With my deposit, I was closing in on $700 total in my account. More money than I’d ever amassed in my lifetime. I did the quick math in my head. If I did three painting jobs per week, added in my sanding money, I’d be able to bank a whopping two hundred and fifty dollars a week and still have sixty bucks left for myself. I made my way home and got started on my chores. I tried calling a few of the people on the list, but they weren’t at home. I guessed that most of them were at work.

At close to five, Sam came waltzing in carrying the paper. Had I invited him over for dinner and forgotten about it? With tears in his eyes, he gave me a hug. "Joan," he wailed, "you’ve ruined everything." With that he handed me the newspaper. The front page headline news was about a group of rowdy teen-aged boys being arrested for disorderly conduct on Saturday night. You have to remember, this was a small town and this was a big story here.

"It’s your fault they got arrested," he told me.

"My fault?" I said not believing what I was hearing. "What did I do? I was walking alone Saturday night minding my own business when your "friends" attacked me. You should be thanking me for getting you away from those assholes." His eyes began to well up as he explained what happened at practice that morning. Three of the boys arrested had been on the team. Two of them were starters; the second baseman and the right fielder. The coach, upon hearing the news, kicked them off the squad. No one had any proof, but they were all blaming Sam for what had happened.

"Sam," I tried to reason with him. "I didn’t do anything to get those boys arrested. They did it all themselves." He knew I was right, but for some reason had decided that I was to blame.

"You shouldn’t have said anything to the cop," he said with conviction.

"Oh, I should have just said nothing and let them go upsetting everyone and anyone they pleased. Sam, they were arrested after we’d already left. I have no idea what they did to push the officer over the edge." I took the paper and with Sam in tow sat down at the kitchen table and began to read. Due to their tender ages, the boys’ names weren’t mentioned. It seemed that I hadn’t been the only one to complain. After we’d left, the boys assaulted a group of young girls. The police had no alternative but to arrest them.

"Well, now no one on the team is talking to me," he said as the tears started to fall.

"Sweetheart, I’m sorry about that. They’ll get over it, I’m sure. Would you have rather been there when the cops caught up with them?" Sam knew I was spot-on in my assessment of the situation.

"I’m sorry Joan," he said as the tears continued to fall. I hugged him in my arms and rocked him gently. I knew that his talent would make them all forget about what had transpired Saturday night.

"I guess it’s not easy being a boy," I said teasingly.

"It’s harder than I thought it’d be," Sam surprisingly agreed.

"Well Sam, it’s getting late and I have to make dinner." He took my statement as an invitation to stay. I told him we were having salads with tuna draped over the top. He didn’t care; food was food. I set him to work peeling cucumbers. I let the dog in from the back yard and sure enough, she ran straight for Sam. He took that as his cue to play with the dog.

"Hey? I’m helping. I’m entertaining your dog," he said sincerely. I shook my head and got back to work. I told him to set the dining room table while I assembled the finishing touches of our dinner. He lighted the candles without being asked. It would be simple fare, but served in a fine dining atmosphere.

Mom arrived home right on schedule and engaged in her normal routine. Sam carried the bowls into the dining room. Mom didn’t even acknowledge his presence. She wasn’t being rude, it was as if she expected him there. I put out the butter and served up the fresh baked dinner rolls. Sam eyed them greedily. "Mom, if you want any rolls, you’d better take them now," I said as drool began forming at the edge of Sam’s mouth. He laughed and promised that he wouldn’t be that bad.

"Did you two see the lead story in today’s newspaper?" she asked rhetorically. "I’m not so sure it’s safe for you to be hanging out on the boardwalk anymore Joan," she continued. "There’s even talk of a curfew for those under eighteen." Her words sent me into immediate moping mode. The more I thought about it, I realized that it would never happen. This was the time of year when the business people earned enough to keep them sailing through the rest of the year. The local merchants' association would be up in arms at any mention of a curfew. Not to mention the vacationers themselves. They chose this bit of paradise for its friendly atmosphere. The only logical result would be better enforcement of the law by the police.

I voiced my opinions for both Mom and Sam. She considered my words carefully and agreed that I was probably right. Then she told me that she’d better never catch either of us in any trouble. I cast Sam a sideways glance. He smiled in return. "Aunt Joan, I have no intention of getting into any trouble. Baseball is far too important to me to mess it all up by becoming a rowdy."

"And Mom, when have I ever been in trouble?" I asked her wearing my most angelic smile. Mom burst out laughing upon looking at me. We all joined in, but it made me wonder; did she think I was some kind of troublemaker? Sam did indeed eat more than his share of the rolls. He had four of them! Mom and I each had one apiece. He’d better be a good pitcher if he planned on putting food on the table; especially with his appetite.

Dinner over and everything put away, Mom asked me if I was ready to hit the paint store. I told her that I would be in awhile, but first I had to call my potential customers and start scheduling appointments. At the mere mention of painting, Sam begged off. He said he had to get home, if he didn’t leave now he’d be late for dinner. We all burst out laughing again. He hugged me tight and kissed me goodbye. I made my way to the phone.

Half an hour later I had three jobs lined up for the week. I scheduled one for Wednesday, and two of them for Friday during the day. I had no idea how this was going to conflict with my dinner making chores. Hell, with the money I’d be making I reasoned I could buy us takeout and still be way ahead of the game. For nine hours work I’d be making almost twice as much as I did sanding for twenty. Maybe I should retire from wood working?

Mom and I made our way to Hospin’s paint. While I piled everything up on the counter, she began looking at wallpaper. There was no way I was taking on any more work. Enough was enough. I began writing out the check when Mr. Hospin told me that since I was his best customer, he was giving me a ten percent discount. It still cost a bit more than the Depot, but I was grateful for the ten bucks.

"Joan, now that you’re working all these jobs, when are you going to find time to paint our house?" I’d been wondering the same thing myself.

"I don’t know Mom, I suppose I could get the bulk of it done on Sunday," I replied. Sunday: my birthday. I’d be spending it painting the living room. Somehow, it just didn’t seem right. It was bad enough that I’d probably be exhausted by the time Darla and Sally came over on Friday. My appetite for work seemed to match Sam’s for food. I was getting tired just thinking about it. While I loaded up the car, Mom and Mr. Hospin became engaged in conversation. I cringed when he told her what a wonderful and industrious daughter she had. I guess I wasn’t too good at accepting praise, wherever it came from.

We made our way home and I put the paint away in the hall closet. I spent a few hours on the internet; reading and replying to emails and doing a bit more research on my "condition." Some of the sad stories I encountered made me wonder if I’d ever find true happiness. Why did anyone care what gender I was? It was nobody’s business but my own. Well, and of course my family’s. I smiled as I considered that Sam was a very important member of my family. Perhaps, the most important of all.

I went downstairs to say goodnight to Mom. She was working in her sewing room. For some reason the door was closed. I knocked before entering remembering the scene with Darla and Sarah. "Just a minute Joan!" Mom’s voice rang out. What was she doing in there? Was she hiding something from me? I quickly put such thoughts away when she told me to come in. I entered and told her I just wanted to say goodnight. She hugged me, kissed me, and told me that I truly was a wonderful daughter. I nearly melted at her words.

I woke up Tuesday morning feeling refreshed. Yes, it was Tuesday, but I still had a very long week ahead of me. Had I bitten off more than I could chew? I laughed as I realized that that was an impossibility for Sam. I arrived at work a few minutes early and started right in. I seemed to be getting better at the job, knowing instinctively when it was time to switch to a finer grade of sandpaper. Paul hadn’t said anything to me in days now. Had Mr. Ferris told him about me? That possibility made me sad in a sense, yet I knew it didn’t really matter. Still, I went out of my way to be nice to him as the hours fell swiftly by.

I considered for a moment stopping off at Darla’s after work, but knew I had too much work to do at home. On arrival, I put a ton of chicken thighs in the oven broiler, set the temperature on low and decided that I could get the ceiling painting out of the way before Mom got home. Yes, it was an ambitious task. The only part that scared me was standing on the ladder while it was perched precariously on the stair treads. My stomach did flip-flops every time I ascended. Still, by five-thirty the ceilings were finished. I’d do the walls on Sunday and worry about the trim next week.

I turned up the oven heat and began making the corn and mashed potatoes. I reasoned that tomorrow, we could have chicken and spaghetti. There’d be no need to waste any money on takeout food. Mom arrived home while I was in the middle of everything and began whining about why dinner wasn’t ready. I was feeling a bit annoyed but, decided not to complain. She’d either notice the freshly painted ceilings herself, or she wouldn’t. I had dinner on the table by six-thirty and she seemed to calm down as she slowly devoured my offering.

"What do you want to do this evening, Joan?" She asked me. I laughed and told her I was beyond exhausted. If it wasn’t so late already, I’d be taking a nap. I cleaned the kitchen up and made my way upstairs. Sam’s phone was busy, so I called Darla instead. We exchanged stories of what we’d been up to. She asked me why I was working so hard. I told her that I honestly had no idea why I was doing it. "Because I can" seemed to be the reason that made the most sense to me. I asked her if she had any plans for the party Friday night. She told me not to worry about it, that she had it all under control. I thanked her profusely as a layer of stress floated away.

Sam and I spoke on the phone for awhile. I asked him if things had been any easier with the guys. He said they slowly seemed to be coming around. Especially after the coach threatened to boot anyone involved in any kind of trouble. He went on to tell me he was a bit worried about the team’s future having lost three players. I asked him if they needed me to suit up. It took him a few minutes to stop laughing. Sure, I’d said it as a joke, but after awhile his laughter started to hurt. Whatever credibility I’d once had as a boy seemed to be gone forever.

He apologized as his laughter ebbed. We made arrangements to meet tomorrow evening at eight o’clock. Upon saying goodnight, I almost fell asleep with the receiver in my hand. It was just after nine, but it was time for bed. I went back downstairs to say goodnight to Mom and as I’d encountered last evening, she was once again in the sewing room with the door closed. I repeated my routine of knocking and she repeated hers of asking me to wait for a minute. At last I went in and hugged her goodnight. I told her that I had to go to work after work and started laughing. I went on to explain that dinner probably wouldn’t be ready until six-thirty.

Lying in bed, my head began spinning about all the work I had yet to do. Maybe I’d taken on too much? I dragged myself out of bed on Wednesday morning and sanded away like a zombie. I headed directly to the Whitley home from there. The bedroom job, a light green, was a piece of cake. I knew that one of these days I was gong to run into problems. Up to now I’d been able to use the tools and ladders that my customers had laying about. Still, I had enough to worry about for the moment. I took my pay and pedaled my way home. They hadn’t batted an eye on seeing me. I guess I was gaining a certain confidence with each passing successful paint job.

I arrived home at five-thirty and began making the spaghetti. We wouldn’t be late in eating after all. I knew after dinner I’d be taking a short nap before Sam’s arrival. I realized too late that I’d forgotten to check the mail. Mom came walking into the kitchen carrying the envelope that I’d mailed home. Should I just let her deal with it? Could she handle it? "Here Mom, I’ll take that," I said and reached for the envelops.

"But Joan, it’s addressed to me." I tried explaining that it was just a disposable camera that I’d purchased to take some pictures with at Dad’s. "And you sent it to me, how thoughtful." She said and put the camera away somewhere. I shuddered as I remembered that one of the pictures was of a very pregnant Doreen. Damn, how could I have been so stupid? "I’ll drop it off for processing after dinner," she said and changed the subject. There was nothing I could do about it now. Perhaps it was best if she knew the absolute truth of the situation.

I never did get a chance to take a nap. Mom and I sat at the table talking for quite awhile after dinner. She asked me about my plans for my party. I told her that Darla was in charge of planning the party. "Oh Joan, how could you?" She remonstrated. I laughed and replied that I was just too damned busy to worry about planning birthday parties. She never had commented on my ceiling painting. Had I totally wasted my time?

Sam showed up and we went for a walk. As long as he was around, my legs were sure to get a good workout. We found ourselves at Forbes Field, swinging on the swings. "I’ll bet I can go higher than you can!" he said and started pumping furiously.

Not in the mood to play that kind of game, I replied: "I’ll bet you can too." With his swing in the highest arc possible, he catapulted off purposefully and landed on his feet over fifteen feet from his starting point. He was off and running. Was I supposed to give chase? I really didn’t have that kind of energy having put in a full day and then making dinner. I stayed on my swing and lazily pumped to and fro. After about ten minutes Sam came back telling me that I was no fun at all.

"If you’re lucky, I’ll let you kiss me for awhile," I said seductively. He was simply bursting at the seams with energy. He grabbed my swing in mid-motion and held the chain till it came to a stop. He leaned over, grabbed my head, and began kissing me passionately. My body tensed and ached with hunger. I wanted the same thing he did. Maybe we could bring a blanket to the woods next time? We explored each other’s bodies for quite some time before I ended it, telling him I just had to go home.

Thankfully, he didn’t get mad at me. For awhile I was beginning to worry that he’d force me to perform oral sex on him. Not that I was opposed to the idea. It’s just that neither the timing nor the setting was right. We finally arrived at my front door. I swear, I’d never seen him this horny before. He thrust his bottom half into me repeatedly as we kissed goodnight outside my doorstep. Thank God my mother wasn’t watching us! There’d have been hell to pay. I’m sure she’d have found a way to blame it all on me, I laughed bitterly.

"What’s so funny?" He asked me.

"Did I laugh out loud?" I asked facetiously. He joined me in laughter and at last, we said goodnight. "Sam, have you given any thought to Saturday night yet?"

"No, I haven’t, but I’m sure we’ll think of something." He replied.

I made my way into the house and noticed once again Mom was in the room with the door closed. What the hell could she be doing in there? I considered just barging in, but I knew she’d never forgive me. I knocked softly on the door and waited for her to acknowledge me. We talked for a few minutes and I was off to bed. It’s funny, I now had permission to stay up till eleven and here I found myself in bed and asleep before ten o’clock. Ah well! Just knowing I "could" stay up if I wanted to would have to be enough.

Thursday at the shop Mr. Ferris informed me that I’d be doing some staining work on the pieces I sanded next week. The fun part he told me (laughing) is that when they’ve dried properly you get to sand them again. That didn’t sound like fun to me. I thanked him as he handed me my pay envelope and pedaled home. Sarah was indeed standing out in her driveway as I pedaled off in the other direction. Was she waiting for me? Now what? I wondered.

I was beyond tempted to take a nap when I arrived home. All I had to do was make dinner and go for my appointment. Still, the clothes weren’t going to wash themselves. I did my best to catch up on my weekly chores. Lately Mom had given me a bit more freedom with dinner preparations. Tonight, I was going to make burgers and baked potatoes.

Dinner came off without a hitch and soon Mom and I were on our way to see Dr. Raspberry. Our professional relationship was beginning to meld and soften. At first I’d been a bit wary when she donned her doctor hat. Now we were just two friends talking. She never once looked at the clock.

"Aunt Vivian… I’m sorry, Dr. Raspberry?" I was embarrassed.

"It’s alright Joan, you hereby have permission to always refer to me as Aunt Vivian. Truth be told, I like it better myself when you do."

"Well," I continued. I’ve been doing a lot of research on the internet. I was wondering?" I started and stopped suddenly. Could I go on with this?

"What is it Joan?"

"I was wondering when I could start hormone therapy." There, I’d said it. Maybe Dad would accept me better when I was his "actual" daughter and not just some "sissy boy" (as he described me.) I so wanted breasts of my own. If my voice started to deepen, I thought I’d die. The faint fuzz of a beginning mustache had appeared magically out of nowhere over the last few weeks.

Aunt Vivian eyed me silently for what seemed like forever. My eyes began to cloud over with tears. None had fallen, but like the borg had said: "resistance is futile." "You know sweetheart, I’m a psychotherapist and not a psychiatrist." I looked at her curiously trying to figure out what she was trying to tell me.

"That simply means that I’m not a medical doctor. I can’t write prescriptions." We sat there silently for another minute or two before she went on. "However, as you know, my husband is a medical doctor. Do you think you could talk to him for a few minutes?" She asked me pleadingly.

"If you think it will help, of course I will." I replied bravely.

"Just wait here for a minute, I’ll be right back." With that she was gone. She returned a short time later with Dr. Robert Raspberry in tow. I was sure he knew all about me, but could I sit here and discuss my condition with him? He set my mind at ease right off.

"So, Joan, Vivian tells me you want to start taking hormones. Are you aware of all the risks involved?" I assured him that I was. I’d read all about the potential side effects of estradiol on the internet.

"It’s just Doctor," I began haltingly. "I’m afraid that if I don’t start taking them now that some awful changes are going to take place." I fell silent with my last remark. I put my head down on the table and wept openly.

"It’s alright Joan," he said soothingly. "I’m going to prescribe a very low dosage of estrogen along with a mild anti-androgen to keep you in stasis for now."

"Will they make my breasts grow?" I asked hopefully. I knew that such a low dosage wouldn’t make me blossom. I just hoped that my question would help him, somehow see my need.

"Joan, I’m betting you already know the answer to that one," he went on. "The dosage I’m prescribing will have little or no effect on your developing secondary female characteristics. That’s not to say they won’t help you. They’ll keep your beard from growing, your voice from deepening, and limit your overall muscular development. This dosage will buy you time to figure out if this is really what you want to do." he finished. I felt like telling him I already knew what I wanted to do. I wanted, no I needed to be a girl; as real a female as I could possibly be. He studied my face carefully and read my mind. "It’s OK sweetheart," he assured me. "This may be a small step, but a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step." Not if you’re taking the bus, I thought cynically. With that he nodded at Aunt Vivian, pulled out his prescription pad and wrote me a prescription for 2mg of estradiol valerate to be taken daily with meals along with a prescription for Aldactone.

Aunt Vivian called my mother into the room and told her what we’d accomplished. She handed her my prescriptions and explained that our medical insurance would cover most of the cost. I was over the moon! I wondered whether the pills would affect my viewpoint? Would they make me more emotional? Would I see any changes at all in my body? I knew that most likely I wouldn’t, but I was hopeful.

Mom stopped at the drugstore on the way home. I waited in the car for her. For some reason I was ashamed. Ashamed that everyone in the store would know that the pills were for me. She returned to the car quickly with my prescriptions and a package of photos as well. Damn! I’d forgotten about them again. When had she dropped the camera off? She started the car, put it in gear and we made our way home.

We sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee and smoking as she handed me the little blue box with the twenty-eight life changing pills inside. It wasn’t till years later that I found out that prescriptions for estrogen for someone my age were simply a "no-no." from the medical profession’s perspective.

Meanwhile, Mom carefully opened the envelope with the pictures and began going through them. Her mood seemed to darken as she viewed each and every one. Fortunately she only glanced briefly at the picture of Doreen. Thankfully, she didn’t grasp the significance of it. The next picture sent her over the edge though.

"I’m sorry Mom," I said as she looked about to burst into tears.

"They have a fucking maid!" She exclaimed. I’d never heard her use the "F" word before in my life. I wanted to grab the pictures from her, rip them to shreds and throw them away. Still, I thought that those pictures were the reason I was allowed to return home and not sent off to some Siberian Military Academy. After looking at all of them twice, the second time taking special note of her replacement, she handed them all to me. "Why did you come back?" She asked sincerely.

I couldn’t believe she was asking me that. I felt a mix of emotions. I was angry with her for even entertaining such thoughts. I felt horrible for letting her view those photos. I could no longer keep the tears at bay.

"I love you Mom! This is my home. Not some fancy mansion somewhere else. Wherever you are is home." She began crying as well. We hugged for a few minutes and said goodnight. I took my pills upstairs with me and put them in my medicine cabinet.. Tomorrow promised to be an interesting day. I set my clock and drifted off to sleep imagining my body changing with the consumption of the life altering medications…..

Notes:

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Synopsis:

The three girlfriends have a very special birthday celebration. Sam continues to impress everyone with his pitching arm. Joan and Sam receive an opportunity to share a very special birthday celebration of their own.

Story:

Chapter 12

I Won’t Last a Day Without You

I checked on Mom before heading out Friday morning. I stared at my self solemnly in the mirror as I removed one of the little blue pills from the blister pack. It was so tiny, like a miniature m&m. The aldactone was another story entirely. It was much larger and had a chalky, peppermint taste and I was forced to swallow it down with water. I then found myself applying just a touch of lipstick before heading downstairs. I arrived at the Bradley home promptly on the stroke of nine. Mrs. Bradley greeted me warmly. It seems Mr. Hospin had given me gushing reviews. I wasn’t about to let him down.

The job was a bigger one than I was expecting. I explained to Mrs. Bradley that the two rooms would double the cost. She gave me a kindly smile and told me, "whatever it costs, it costs." At this point I was more concerned with time than money. I managed to finish the job by two o’clock. I hadn’t stopped to eat or do anything else. Tired and hungry, I made my way to the Gowan’s.

Mr. Gowan was more than a bit annoyed. I was over an hour late in arriving. I apologized and resolved that if I was ever going to be late again, I’d call first. The four mile bicycle ride over there hadn’t brightened my mood. Thankfully, the job was a simple one. In fact it was so easy that I wondered why he simply hadn’t done it himself. Still, I was exhausted when I finished and the long ride home didn’t brighten my mood.

I fell through my front door just as Mom was arriving home. She left her car in the driveway and ran up to greet me. "Joan, are you all right?" she said worriedly. I told her that I was sorry, but I didn’t have a chance to prepare dinner. I was beginning to feel faint: I was starved and exhausted. I began thinking that no amount of money was worth the way that I felt. Mom literally helped me upstairs and into the shower.

While I attempted to scrub the paint spatter and exhaustion away, she made me a sandwich. I nearly fell down the stairs on my way to the kitchen. How could I possibly host a party this evening? Mom helped me up to my room when I finished. She put me to bed. "Joan, you’re going to take a nap. Don’t even think about arguing, I insist. I’ll wake you in an hour, now get some rest." I didn’t need any further prodding. I closed my eyes and I was gone.

Seconds later Darla and Sally were standing at my bedside. "Wake up birthday girl," they screamed at me. I looked at my bedside clock. That had been the fastest hour of my life. I slowly came to consciousness. Seeing the girls and the pink walls surrounding me, I forgot for a minute where I was. They both started laughing. "Come on Joan! Time to get up!" Darla exclaimed. This wasn’t coming together the way that I’d imagined.

"The poor girl’s exhausted," Sally said. "Let her sleep." I smiled up at her and pressed Sally’s nose as if it was a snooze alarm. They both giggled and said I could have one more hour to sleep. They’d entertain themselves for a bit. That second hour of sleep made all the difference in the world. I awoke without assistance and made my way downstairs.

"She lives!" Darla exclaimed and laughed for all to hear. I smiled sheepishly and thanked them for waiting. Darla and Sally ran over to me and we engaged in a group hug.

"Thanks for waiting for me. I’m so sorry," I began.

"Hey, this is your party, if you want to spend it sleeping that’s your choice," Darla said and laughed yet again. I smiled in return and told them that I felt fantastic. With that Mom called us into the kitchen and told us the pizza would be here momentarily. Ah, more food. Just what I needed. I only hoped it wasn’t covered in broccoli and mushrooms. The pizza arrived moments later and thankfully, half of it was smothered in peppers and onions.

Mom stood by now and again but for the most part stayed out of our way. She seemed thrilled to be the hostess of a slumber party. I never did find out what if anything she said to Sally’s parents. "So, what do you guys want to do?" I asked them as I began clearing the table.

"I thought we’d go to the boardwalk for a bit," Darla said. I looked at Mom pleadingly. After her diatribe the other evening, I wasn’t sure she’d ever let me go there again. Darla assured my mother that we’d be safe. She took her cell phone out of her purse and told Mom that we were prepared for any contingency.

"You girls had better be home by eleven o’clock. And Darla, give me your cell phone number. Also, turn it on and make sure the batteries are fully charged."

"Mommmm!" I shouted to her. The girls just took it all in laughing. Darla gave Mom her number and assured her that the phone was fully charged and in perfect working order. I ran up to my room and put on my denim skort set. It looked perfect with my new sandals. I wasn’t going to waste time on makeup, but did put a quick coat of my new "red" on. "Mom, can I borrow your camera?" I asked upon returning downstairs. She gave it up without any questions and we were on our way.

We marched up to the boardwalk three abreast. I took out the camera and we played with it taking pictures of each other. Darla brazenly asked an elderly gentleman if he’d take a group shot of us. Darla insisted that I take the middle position; the center of attention. The elderly gent smiled as he handed the camera back to Darla. We’d made his day. I put the camera back in my purse as Darla took the lead again. "Come on girls!" She shouted. Feeling well rested and full, I began to get giddy about what she might have planned.

"Well, here we are," she said stopping outside the tattoo parlor. The township had been very reluctant to grant a license to such an operation. Only after being assured that the strictest health codes would be followed and that no drug paraphernalia would be sold did they relent.

"Darla, what are you suggesting?" I asked with worry in my voice.

"We’re all going to get tattoos!" She enthused.

"Have you lost your mind? Our mothers will kill us! Besides, I’m not that kind of girl." Sally just looked at us both with concern in her eyes. She started to speak up when Darla cut her off.

"Will you guys relax? We’re not getting permanent tattoos; just henna ones." I eyed her suspiciously and she continued. "They’ll wash off in a couple of weeks. I thought we’d each get a small rose on our left shoulders." Could I do this? Did I want to? Sally’s enthusiasm for the idea grew. It seemed I was the stick in the mud. Was I willing to pay this high-cost of friendship? I allowed them to reluctantly drag me into the shop. In some ways I felt like I was going for my first ear piercing all over again.

Darla told the clerk exactly what we wanted and paid the fee herself. "Joan, you should get your nipples pierced," she said and giggled. I half-started to bolt for the door. She grabbed my hand and told me to relax; she was kidding. Twenty minutes later we walked out with roses emblazoned in the exact same spot on our left shoulders. "We should call ourselves "the red rose girls," Darla said and laughed. I still felt a bit uncomfortable and nervous about the whole thing. What would Mom say if she saw it?

Darla and Sally seemed to have adjusted totally to the new adornment. I knew these were good girls and gradually my cares slipped away. "OK, now it’s time to ride the carousel," Sally said. "It’s an old tradition in my family. On your birthday, you ride the big white charger." We giggled incessantly while standing in line to purchase our tickets. Others began eyeing us suspiciously as though we were drunk. Was I becoming a paranoid?

Sally and Darla took positions surrounding me as I mounted the white charger on the outermost ring. We laughed carelessly as the horses spun round and round. I think out of all the choices available, the carousel was my favorite. The ride ended and Darla asked me for the camera. She snapped my picture while sitting atop the horse. Then, she suggested a pose and insisted that I assume it. I was to look seductively over my shoulder while baring the rose tattoo. I was reluctant at first, but in the end we all did it.

We bought some candy and ice cream and totally pigged out. I was riding quite a sugar high as the evening began to wind down. "Come on girls, it’s almost eleven, we’ve got to get back to my house," I said pleadingly. Darla didn’t want to go home. "Girls, if we don’t leave now, I’m going to get in trouble, and I’ll never be able to have you over again. Please!" I begged. Aside from Sam, I’d never really had any friends before. These were uncharted waters for me.

Finally, they began to follow my lead, though both protested as we walked. Up ahead, it looked like the same group of idiots from last weekend. "Stay away from them, they’re trouble," I warned. Darla eyed me as if I was some kind of baby. When we were within fifty feet, the taunts started. I’d have turned around, but they were standing in front of the exit for my street. They couldn’t possibly have been waiting for us, could they? I sighed aloud. I was turning into a paranoid. I asked Darla for her cell phone, just in case. She didn’t want to give it to me, but I was insistent and finally, she did.

Thankfully, the idiots didn’t recognize me, but their verbal assaults continued. Where were the police when you needed them? An acorn of an idea began growing in the back of my mind. I filed it away for later. As we continued to stroll, Darla issued some taunts of her own. She told them all to go "f" themselves. Sally laughed and I just kept urging them to keep on walking. We began walking down the ramp on the opposite side not forty feet from where they were standing. I was petrified. Still, they just remained glued to the ground where they were standing. A disaster had been averted. My heart didn’t resume its normal position and beat till we were safely locked behind my own front door.

Sally and Darla began giggling wildly. They thought it had been exciting. I had no idea they were that crazy. Hell, even Sam had more sense in him. I relayed what had happened last weekend with that same bunch and told them of the story in the paper and the arrests. That finally seemed to knock some sense into them. I began to wonder if I should call the police and warn them that the same group was hanging out and threatening people once again.

The mood lightened as the girls brought their belongings up to my room. I pushed my bed into the corner. Tonight we’d be sleeping on the floor in sleeping bags. I wished that Darla had brought the air mattresses with her. With the room set up for bedtime, we went back downstairs and sorted through the movies Darla brought. Mom seemed quite relieved that we’d made it back on time. I made sure that my left shoulder remained covered in her presence. We were summoned to the dining room and Mom carried in a birthday cake. She’d baked it herself. "Happy Birthday Joan" read the inscription. Darla snapped a picture of us as I gave Mom a joyful hug.

Mom insisted on taking a picture of the three of us. I almost had a heart attack when Darla handed her the camera. What if she started scrolling through the pictures? OMG! My heart beat in double time till she handed the camera back to her. Conflicting thoughts gnawed at my brain. I wanted to delete the pic of my rose tattoo, yet I wanted to keep it. The required birthday song was sung and I blew out the candles on my cake. What did I wish for? If I told you it wouldn’t come true. The girls seemed to be having a really good time. I was happy to have them with me. I was more than surprised when Darla and Sally brought out gifts they’d gotten for me. The long narrow package from Darla was opened first. It contained an ankle bracelet with my name inscribed on it. I wept as I attempted to attach it to my left ankle. I told her I’d never take it off. She laughed and replied that I would the next time I put on a pair of pantyhose.

I opened Sally’s gift next. It was a beautiful matching bra and panty set.
The delicate lace and spandex seemed to be held together with a prayer.
Mom’s eyebrows shot up and her jaw dropped as I held the bra against my chest. I hugged them both and kissed them liberally while my emotions erupted cataclysmicly. I was so lucky to have these people in my life.

We finally adjourned to the living room. It was time to watch some movies.
When hearing that I’d never seen it, Darla insisted we watch "Shakespeare In Love." I adored the film. To this day, it’s one of my all time favorites. We went through an entire box of Kleenex before it was over. Mom joined us for the movie and she loved it as well. It was well after one o’clock when we made our way up to my bedroom. I smiled remembering the last time I lay between these two. Darla wanted to download the pictures onto my computer. Sally and I both pooh poohed the idea. It could wait till morning.

They both smiled and looked at me curiously as I handed them each a teddy bear to cuddle. I wondered what Sally had done with the one I’d won for her. I set my alarm for ten and turned out the lights. We were all too tired to engage in story telling that evening. We slept in kind of a group hug. Darla with her arms wrapped around me from the front, and Sally came at me from behind. Mom checked in on us, but didn’t say a word as she retreated to her own room. It wasn’t sensuous touching but, the mere warmth of their bodies helped me to fall asleep peacefully. I felt truly loved.

There would be no pre-dawn walks to the beach. I awoke to the sound of my alarm to find Darla downloading the pictures onto my computer. She emailed the pics of our shoulders to herself and Sally. I just knew that somehow, Mom was going to find out. Sally remained spooned behind me. Damn, the girl sure knew how to sleep. I arose and took command of my computer for a few minutes. I emailed the picture of my friends and I standing in front of my birthday cake to Doreen. I found myself wondering whether or not she’d show it to Dad.

We showered separately. Darla, of course wanted to join in, but Sally and I put her off. She was a wild one. Shandy seemed overly excited at all the commotion in the house so early on a Saturday morning. Sally asked me if she could take her home. I wasn’t sure if she was kidding. Mom had her own version of a big breakfast awaiting us when we came into the kitchen. It was just after eleven and we had to be at Aunt Alice’s by noon. It turned out Mom decided to come with us. She was reluctant to let me go by myself after what had happened last time. The older I got, the more protective she became.

We all piled into Aunt Alice’s car and made our way to the stadium. I had to admit, I was a little spooked myself. I kept looking over my shoulder waiting for a fateful tap that never came. By the fifth inning I finally calmed down. I had Sally on one side of me and Darla on the other. I felt special! The game while not a repeat of his first performance, was the next best thing. Sam allowed two hits and no runs as the Waves cruised to their third victory in a row. Sam’s celebrity was increasing with each passing game. I only hoped his head remained small enough for him to fit through the door.

We stopped for a bite to eat after the game and with the food consumed, we headed home. I joked that Sam would be upset at having missed a meal. When all was said and done, Aunt Alice drove the girls home. I hugged each of them as if my life depended on it as we dropped them off. They both told me they’d had a wonderful time. Mom and Aunt Alice were talking excitedly in the front seat of the car. I did my best to listen in. It seemed they were going out together again this evening. They were going out to celebrate our birthdays in their own fashion.

I began to wonder if Sam and I would be able to spend the night together again. As we neared our house, I asked them both if it would be all right if Sam spent the night at our house. After a bit of discussion between them, they agreed. Of course, they made me promise: "no funny business." I looked at them innocently by way of a reply. I was on cloud ten! This was going to be the best birthday ever.

"Have you two decided what you want to do for your birthday?" Aunt Alice asked me.

"Yes, well, I have" I responded. "I thought it would be nice if we all went out to dinner Monday night." I said to my future mother-in-law. "Just a nice simple affair with the four of us."

"Well, I’ll see what Sam has to say, but it sounds lovely to me," she replied. We got home just before five. I ran up to my bathroom and showered again. I wanted to look my best for Sam. I painstakingly applied my makeup and considered wearing my new pink dress. That was silly, it was way too formal for whatever we might decide to do. I probably had as many girl clothes as I did boy’s, yet it didn’t seem like nearly enough. I was becoming more concerned about my appearance with each passing day.

It was seven o’clock when I came downstairs. Sam would be over at eight. Mom was still upstairs getting ready for her evening out with Aunt Alice. I ran down to the basement remembering something I’d stumbled across when rounding up the paint a few weeks ago. I smiled as I rinsed it off and took it upstairs. I furtively put it in the freezer. This truly would be a night to remember.

Mom came downstairs around seven-thirty. She looked stunning. "Mom, you’ve forgotten something." I told her earnestly. She looked at me quizzically and waited. I replied: "The stick you’re going to need to beat the guys off with." She smiled at me and we fell into an embrace. Could life get any better than this?

She left at a few minutes to eight and she and Sam said hello and goodbye as they passed one another. "Sam!" I exclaimed as I ran out the door to greet him. I ran at him and jumped up wrapping my arms and legs around him. For a moment, I’m sure he thought I was trying to knock him down. Finally, modesty got the better of me and I disengaged myself from his embrace.

"Joan, I’ve got fantastic news!" He said bubbling over. I looked at him innocently. "I’m sleeping over!"

"Really? Who invited you?" He took my attempt at humor seriously and began stammering. "I’m sorry Sam, I was just teasing you and yes, it’s wonderful isn’t it? What would you like to do first sweetheart?" I asked him. I should have known what he was going to say.

"Got anything to eat?" He asked. I laughed and checked the refrigerator. The cupboards were bare.

"Come on Sam, we’re going," I said as I began pulling him out the door. The corner market would be open. I went over to the deli counter and eyed the possibilities. Should I just get him a sandwich? I carefully checked over the selections. Finally, I told the butcher I wanted two pounds of filet mignon. I was going to cook for my man. By the time I was finished, it was the fastest thirty dollars I’d ever spent. Sam gallantly carried the groceries back home. I told him to go and watch TV while I prepared dinner. He made no objections. At least he was playing with Shandy. The poor girl hadn’t received much attention from me this past week.

I ran like a maniac as I cooked our meal. Potatoes; boiling. Salads; prepared. Corn on the cob; cooking, broccoli; steaming, steaks; simmering on the grill, and finally rolls; in the oven. I set the dining room table and lighted the candles. I wanted everything to be just perfect. "Sweetheart, dinner’s ready." I called to him as I’d hoped to do for the rest of my life.

"Just a minute Joan," he replied. That irked me a bit, but I bit my lip and didn’t say anything. Didn’t he realize I was busting my buns here? The "minute" turned into two and still no Sam. I was starting to get furious.

If you want to eat, you’d better get in here NOW!" I told him. He came into the dining room whining that it was the bottom of the ninth of some game and I was making him miss it. "Then go and watch your game! The hell with you!" I said and stormed out of the room. I sat down at the kitchen table defeated and started to cry.

He was a step behind me. "Is it that time of the month?" He asked in an arrogant manner. I almost hit him. It’s a good thing there weren’t any plates handy or I’d have brained him. "I’m sorry Joan," he whispered in an attempt to console me. "I didn’t mean any of it." I was tempted to ask him just what he didn’t mean, but I let it go. I tried to recapture the mood that I’d felt earlier as I’d been making preparations. "You sit down sweetheart, and I’ll serve you," he said with affection. I moved to the dining room and took a seat at the head of the table. Sam came in carrying the steaks on a platter and soon had the rest of the meal served as well.

"You’ve really outdone yourself," he said as he began eating in a civilized fashion. My mood was almost back to where it had been before the flare-up.

"Do you have everything you need darling?" I asked him. I looked over the table and realized the steak sauce was missing. He wasn’t going to say a word. I got up and retrieved the bottle from the cabinet. He smiled at me when I put it in his hands. The meal was an absolute delight. This time Sam ate five of the six rolls available. Where did he put all that food? There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. With dinner over, Sam cleared the table and did the dishes.

"That was unquestionably the best meal I’ve ever had," he said while he continued cleaning up. I told him that it had been my birthday gift to him. He smiled at that and told me he couldn’t have wished for anything better.

We soon found ourselves seated on the couch. Darla had left her movies behind and I asked Sam if he’d ever seen "Shakespeare In Love." He groaned when I suggested we watch it together. Though, I’d just seen it the night before, I was anxious to see it again. He finally relented and I put the disc in the player. I spent as much time watching Sam as I did watching the movie. He seemed visibly upset when Gwynneth Paltrow’s chest binding was removed. "It’s OK darling," I whispered. Sam wept as I had the night before as the movie continued to play.

"I love you Sam," I whispered solemnly. With the movie over I invited him into the kitchen and got out the remains of last night’s birthday cake. I placed it on the center of the table and then went to remove the bottle from the freezer. I’d found an old bottle of champagne behind the paint cans downstairs laying on its side. I hoped it was still good? I handed the bottle to him. He asked me how I’d come up with a bottle of champagne. I just smiled in response and removed a pair of fluted glasses from the cabinet. He popped the cork with some difficulty and filled both our glasses.

"To us." He said. With the offering of his simple toast, he raised his glass to mine and we clinked them together. I didn’t know much about champagne, but the taste was delicious. We sat at the table finishing both the cake and the champagne. We were both feeling a little tipsy as we made our way up to my room. I couldn’t believe it. I was going to get to sleep with him again. We each removed our own clothes and crawled under the covers. The heat emanating from his groin was beyond belief. He was on fire.

Wordlessly, we assumed positions. He straddled me possessively and caught a glimpse of my bedside clock. "Happy Birthday Sweetheart," he said softly as he lowered his body onto my own.

Notes:

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Synopsis:

Mom finds the two young lovers in a compromising position. Joan’s father sends her a birthday present. Joan and Sam exchange precious gifts of their own.

Story:

Chapter 13

"You can fool some of the people all of the time and all of the people some of the time, but you can’t fool Mom!" Spanky McFarland

How Long Has This Been Going On?

I just knew that this was where I was supposed to be. I felt so safe lying there in his arms, bathed in the after-glow of total ecstasy. My smile was so wide it kept me from falling asleep. I calmed myself down by massaging him gently. The effort required allowed me to relax completely. Sam had drifted off right after our lovemaking was completed. It was far more satisfactory hugging him than any stuffed toy could possibly be. I faded away in a state of bliss.

I was awakened at precisely four-ten in the morning by the light on my desk coupled with my Mother’s voice. "Oh My God!" She exclaimed; she seemed upset. "Just what the hell is going on here?" She asked rhetorically. Unbelievably, Sam had yet to stir. I stumbled out of bed, turned off my light, and drew Mom into the hallway. I actually "shush’d" her as my mind was spinning in a frantic attempt to devise a cover story. "Come with me!" She commanded and walked down into the kitchen. I closed my eyes as I continued walking and tried with all my might to "will" myself away. It didn’t work. "Sit!" She said taking a seat at the table.

"How long has this been going on?" were the first words out of her mouth. "I trusted you!" She screamed as tears began to flow. I found myself drifting into a state of shock. I just wanted to run away. Mom may have been young once herself, but I knew she’d never understand. I took the only option left open to me: I lied.

"How long has what been going on?" I asked innocently. "Mom, don’t you trust me?" I felt horrible throwing her own words back at her that way, but it actually seemed to be working. I could tell she wanted to believe. I continued to feign the injured party. The more I piled it on, the calmer she became. I felt absolutely awful lying to her like that. I saw no alternative. Though she claimed to believe me, she told me to grab a pillow and my sleeping bag; I was to sleep on the floor in the sewing room. It struck me as odd that she hadn’t gotten upset when Darla and Sally made a sandwich out of me the night before. Mothers, who can understand them? I went up to my room and retrieved my stuff. Sam, never budged the entire time; was he faking it?

I slept very little for the remainder of the night. Happy Birthday to me, I thought bitterly as I tossed and turned on the bleeping floor. Ah well, I should have expected it. The rest of the house was doused in silence when I gave up trying to sleep at nine o’clock. I just wanted to go to bed. To lie there next to Sam and fall back to sleep snuggled up against him. I started a pot of coffee and ran upstairs to take a shower.

The hell with everybody. I smiled at myself in the mirror as I removed one of the little blue pills from the blister pack, one of the anti-androgens from the bottle, and washed them down with some tepid water. I sneaked into my room and grabbed a pair of tattered jeans and a beat up tee shirt; my painting clothes. Sam still hadn’t budged. It seemed to me there were two things he excelled at: eating and sleeping. Back in the kitchen I downed a quick bowl of cereal. I didn’t really want it, but the pamphlet enclosure said to take the pills "with food." I had a cup of coffee and a cigarette. Yes, there were also ample warnings on the package insert about smoking while taking estrogen. Some things you just ignore.

I moved all the furniture in the living room to the center and began laying drop cloths everywhere. Minutes later I was using the edging tool to get all the cutting in done. I soaked the new roller in the pan and began painting. If there was a fun part to this job, this was it. An hour later I was already working on the hallways. The ladder made a bit of noise. I didn’t want to wake anyone up, but I wanted to get the job finished. By one o’clock I had all the rough painting done. The only thing left was the trim work and that could wait till sometime during the week.

My two favorite people in the world were finally beginning to stir. Sam got up and hugged me. He seemed to have no idea what had happened last night. If he could sleep through my mother screaming, he could sleep through anything. I sat him down on the bed and explained to him what had happened. He seemed not to care. He shrugged his shoulders at me and hit the shower. Maybe he had the right idea? After all, as I’d told Mom, it never happened.

I was so tired I lay my head on my pillow for just a minute. The next thing I knew Mom was shaking me gently awake. "Are you going to sleep all day?" she asked me. "You did a fabulous job with the painting. Thank you sweetheart." It seemed Sam had returned home some hours earlier while I slept. "Why don’t you wash up and come downstairs?" She suggested gently. A wave of relief washed over me. There’d be no recriminations for having shared my bed with Sam. Not wanting to risk my good luck, I did as Mom requested and took my second shower of the day.

Mom had a fresh pot of coffee brewing and there were a few gifts piled on the kitchen table. She smiled at me as I took a seat. It seems she had baked yet another cake while I’d been sleeping. She served me up an ample piece of my favorite: chocolate, chocolate cake. "What no candles to blow out or wishes to make?" I asked her. She smiled at me and reminded that I’d already done that on Friday. I found myself feeling a bit awkward in her presence. I’d lied to her; a meaningful one, not something innocuous to avoid punishment. Still, telling her the truth might ease my guilt, but would only add to my mother’s already overloaded stress levels.

"What’s this?" I said as I picked up the envelope. It was post marked "New Jersey" with no return address. Mom eyed me worriedly. I could tell she was having doubts about having given me the envelope at all. I opened it carefully. The card was addressed to: "Dear Joan"… on closer inspection I saw that someone (Doreen?) had gone back and changed the "h" to an "a"..

Still, what was in the two tiny boxes blew me away. Two pairs of diamond studs set in yellow gold; one pair smaller than the other. They were exquisite. Mom smiled wanly as she saw the joy I couldn’t hide from my face. Did this mean that my father accepted me? Surely Doreen hadn’t bought them on her own, had she? I wanted to just run up stairs and send her a thank you email. Then, I remembered the other gifts on the table: Mom’s gifts. Once again I was filled with guilt.

I next picked up the long narrow box wrapped in delicate paper and tied with a bow. Before I could open it Mom burst out with "I know it’s not fancy diamond earrings, but…" and sighed. I slowly opened the jewelry box and examined the contents. The eighteen inch gold herringbone chain with my name emblazoned in the center was beyond precious. I leapt up out of my seat and rushed to give Mom a hug. I excitedly handed her the necklace, turned around, pulled my hair out of the way and waited for her to clasp it around my neck. Task completed, I ran into the sewing room and gazed at my own reflection. In perfect script across the top of my chest "Joan" was written for all the world to see. Feelings of complete joy surged through me. . When I finally turned away from the mirror, Mom snapped my photo. "I just love it Mom," I said and thanked her again.

Back in the kitchen there was still one box to open. I lifted it from the table and shook it gently. Mom giggled just a bit. I was so glad she wasn’t upset about the earrings; nothing else mattered. I carefully undid the bow and removed the paper. Mom had her camera at the ready. I lifted the cover off of the box and there inside was the most fantastic green velvet… dress… I’d ever seen. So that’s what Mom had been up to all those nights locked away in the sewing room.

I stripped right there in the kitchen and stepped into the dress. The fit was perfect. Mom came over and pulled up the back zipper. Back to the sewing room I went to see the overall effect. Yes, it was summertime and velvet was not a summer fabric. Still, that dress was symbolic of something far more important. Mom and I had come full circle. The square neck of the dress was low enough so that my necklace showed. This was turning out to be the best birthday ever. Mom and I hugged for a few minutes and I carefully removed my dress and put it on a hangar. "I can’t wait till it’s cold enough to wear it," I enthused.

"Now darling, don’t go wishing your life away," Mom admonished. "Winter will be here soon enough. Since this is your official birthday, what would you like for dinner?" My mind harkened back to the spare ribs of a few weeks ago.

"How do barbecued spare ribs sound to you?" I asked her. She laughed and told me they sounded just fine. "Would you mind if I wore my new earrings?" I just had to ask.

"They’re your earrings Joan. Wear them if you like." I could tell that she didn’t mean it. I didn’t want to ruin the evening for her. I put the studs away in my dresser. I really was going to be needing a jewelry box.

"Famous Dave’s" was a casual rib place that had only been open for a few months in our area. I put on a skort set and my semi-pink sneakers and off we went. Dinner was a blast. I think Mom ate more ribs than I did.

Our conversation was all over the place; dinner tomorrow, Aunt Melissa’s impending arrival, my cousin’s upcoming wedding, Mom’s work, my own, and yes we even talked about fall fashions a bit. I only wished I’d been able to wear my earrings. Still, diamonds are forever, aren’t they? Mom paid the bill and we drove home chatting incessantly along the way. "Thanks for a perfect birthday celebration Mom." I told her solemnly.

From out of nowhere she blurted out: "you know Joan, if you and Sam are going to have sex, you should be using protection. You are doing that, aren’t you?" OK, I was trapped by her questions. I could simply interpret her questions as being facetious, or I could grant her the respect that she was due and answer honestly.

"I’m sorry Mom," I said in my own cryptic fashion. What was I sorry for? For having sex with Sam? For not using protection? Fortunately, unbelievably, she didn’t pursue the matter. My admission had been enough. I realized that she was right however, and would take steps to practice "safe sex" in the future. I only hoped that it wasn’t too late already.

We arrived home and I removed the meat from a few purloined ribs and put them in a clean bowl for Shandy. She gobbled them down so quickly I thought she was going to puke. I attempted to slow her down but she started growling at me. That was a first for her. I guess she really liked those things.

It was early on a Sunday evening and I started making some phone calls; planning the week ahead. I decided to take the same route as last week. One job on Wednesday and two on Friday. I had over three-hundred dollars up in my dresser drawer. I knew I’d have to get it to the bank soon, or I’d spend it on something. I checked my email account. There was a letter from Aunt Melissa reminding me that she would be arriving on Thursday. Mom had yet to be notified of her sister’s early arrival. I had no idea how to broach the subject with her.

I sent a thank you letter to Doreen. I asked her if my father knew about the earrings. After his behavior a few weeks ago, I had to believe that he didn’t. Still, part of me hoped that he’d made the purchase himself and that it had his full stamp of approval. A sudden shudder ran through my body as I recalled the way he’d treated me. It was only the threat of exposure that saved me from a lifetime of agony. I filed those thoughts away for now.

I rang Sam and asked him how his day had been. "My mother’s got me doing all kinds of stuff around the house and it’s all your fault." He said sullenly. It was beginning to seem that whatever "bad" happened in Sam’s life was "all my fault." "If you didn’t do so much around the house," he continued. "she’d never have noticed!" I laughed aloud.

"There’s nothing wrong with helping out around the house," I informed him. "It’ll make you a good husband someday." He joined me in laughter. I was afraid for a moment that he really had been angry. I’m not sure how I’d have handled that. "So, have you decided where we’re going for dinner tomorrow?" I asked him.

"Dinner?" He asked in total innocence.

"Yes Sam,, we’re all going out to dinner tomorrow night to celebrate our birthdays." This was the longest series of birthday celebrations I’d ever had. First the party on Friday, then the special evening with Sam, then dinner with Mom, and now dinner with Sam and Aunt Alice.

"We can go anywhere you like sweetheart," he said generously. There was a special Italian Restaurant, Portofino’s, at the mall. Their food was out of this world. I asked Sam if that was OK with him. He readily agreed. Of course, I had other reasons for wanting to go to the mall, but I didn’t mention them. It seemed I wouldn’t be making a bank deposit this week after all. We talked for awhile longer and finally he said that he couldn’t take it anymore. He hung up on me!

Less than a minute later he came running in the front door. "Joan! I just had to hold you. If only for a minute." He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me for all he was worth. Mom walked in on us after a minute or two.

"Joan, Sam, are you two using protection?" She asked and burst out laughing. Sam was nonplused by her statement. I laughed along with Mom. It seemed the easiest thing to do at the time. We all agreed that we’d head out to the mall tomorrow evening as soon as Mom got home from work.

Monday morning: I was finally going to get to do something besides sanding. YES! I wouldn’t have to wear that stupid mask all day long. Well, not till I had to sand the wood that I’d stained. I was beginning to prefer painting. It was easier and the rewards were far greater. Still, I had to admit, crafting wood was my first love. Mr. Ferris showed me how to properly apply the oil-based stain. It was actually fun staining the finely-sanded pieces. Two-thirty rolled around and I began working on Aunt Vivian’s jewelry box. I spent an hour and a half getting it ready for final assembly. Finally, I put everything away and pedaled home.

I definitely needed more clothes. How many times could I wear my blue-pleated skirt? Maybe we could take a few minutes and check out the clearance racks. I’m sure Sam would love that, I laughed. At least my pores weren’t clogged with sawdust. I made myself as pretty as possible and sat at the kitchen table waiting for Mom to arrive. She didn’t even come inside. She honked her horn and waited for me to come out. I got in the car, and we drove across the street and repeated the procedure.

Sam came out wearing finely-tailored slacks, a dress shirt and tie. Aunt Alice walked a few steps behind shaking her head the whole time. We made the perfect couple. A cacophony of conversations ensued as we made our way to the mall. Since it was a Monday night, Portofino’s would not be too busy. We were seated immediately and everyone began perusing the menus handed out by our server.

"Can I get you ladies something to drink?" Tim, our server, asked.

"Excuse me?" said Sam.

"I’m sorry sir," he replied. I couldn’t stop the chuckle that had caught in my throat. It wasn’t appreciated by anyone. We placed our orders and waited for the food to arrive. For some reason, the entire situation seemed a bit awkward.

"I just love your pumps Joan," said Aunt Alice. "Maybe you could convince Sam to get a pair?" She said and began laughing. The mood was getting ugly.

"He towers over me enough as it is," I said playing along.

"By the way, I’m officially six feet tall now," Sam said not seeming to notice the undercurrent of the conversation. As if it were proof, he removed his wallet from his back pocket and showed us all his official baseball card; Sam Peters, pitcher. Bats right, throws right. Six feet tall, one-hundred-forty-five pounds. Yep, he was as skinny as a rail.

"Sam, you have to get one of those for me!" I begged. He gave me that one and I put it in my purse. I never thought there’d come a time when I’d know anyone whose picture was on a baseball card. We sat there eating our antipasto and waited for our dinners to arrive. I began to wonder if I’d ever have an opportunity to wear my new earrings. OK, so maybe I was a little self-absorbed.

With dinner over Mom asked us what we’d like to do for the rest of the evening. That was a first. I wouldn’t be dragged from store to store looking at female attire. The irony was, I wanted to. I told Mom that Sam and I would meet them at the coffee shop at nine o’clock and we were on our way. "Where are we off to Joan?" he asked as I dragged him into the main mall.

"You’ll see," I said and kept walking purposefully in the direction of Zales’ Jewelers.

"What are we doing here?" He asked.

"Just be quiet and follow my lead," I said as we walked inside. It seems Monday night was a slow night overall. The number of working staff outnumbered the customers by at least two to one.

"Can I help you?" A young lady with a name tag that read "Barbara" asked.

"We’d like to see your wedding rings," I said. Rather than laughing, smirking, or making any derisive comments, the young lady simply ushered us over to the proper display.

"Joan, we can’t afford these." Sam whispered as he eyed the offerings and their prices.

"Would you wear my ring Sam?" I asked him sincerely. He hugged me tight and kissed me by way of reply. We stood there looking over the myriad of choices for a few minutes when Sam asked to see a certain "basket weave" designed ring. He slipped that band of gold on his left ring finger and smiled.

He beamed with joy as he held his hand out to me. I knew this was the right thing to do. "Do you have one in my size?" I asked her. After figuring out just what my size was, Barbara disappeared into the back room. She returned carrying a small jewelry box with the perfect wedding ring inside. "Sam, will you marry me?" I whispered with tears in my eyes.

"Yes," he said solemnly.

"We’ll take these" I told the clerk and removed the ring from my finger.

"Will that be cash or charge?" She asked. I removed the three-hundred dollars from my purse and handed the bills to her. She stood there counting out the funds while Sam fidgeted nervously.

"Is anything wrong Sam?" I asked him.

"Well, it’s just that I don’t have any fancy gift for you," he said sadly.

"Sam, your gift to me is accepting my ring and wearing it always, with pride." He hugged me again as Barbara completed our purchase. We walked out of the store with an air of confidence. Hand in hand we walked down the corridor till we came to the lighted fountains. We took a seat on a bench in the front row and I removed the rings from the bag. "With this ring I thee wed," I said to him as I slid the ring on his finger. He repeated my words to me and placed the delicate bit of gold on my left hand. He held me as if we were never going to see each other again.

"I love you Joan, I’ll always love you.." He said with deepest meaning. This time, I repeated the phrase to him. We sat there and stared at our hands for the longest time. We both pledged never to remove the rings from our fingers. Mom and Aunt Alice were at the coffee shop when we arrived. There was no need to tell them what we’d purchased. Our smiles and demeanor gave us away instantly.

"Did we miss the wedding of our only children?" Mom asked. Aunt Alice seemed threatened somehow by the little bits of gold. Sam replied and told them both that they were just "friendship rings." As obvious a lie as it was, it seemed to calm Aunt Alice down quite a bit. Mom asked to see my ring. I held my hand out for her inspection. She laughed. "Take it off and let me look at it," she said. I slid it off my finger and handed it to her. This, after I’d just told Sam moments before that I’d never remove it. Did this count? I knew that I’d have to hide it away if she objected. What else could I do?

"Oh Joan! It’s absolutely beautiful. Your father and I almost…" She began and her voice trailed off. Yes, we were just fourteen. Well, I was anyway, I laughed. Still, weren’t the world’s most famous lovers our age: Romeo and Juliet. That ring may have been a small bit of metal, but it filled me with a power that I still can’t describe. I began thinking of myself as "Mrs. Joan Peters." Yes, I had totally lost my mind.

The look in Aunt Alice’s eyes suggested worry. "I hope you two know what you’re doing," she said at last. With the certitude that only fourteen years can bring, we hugged and kissed our mothers. Despite our pretense at "friendship" they both knew our feelings for one another ran far deeper than that.

"I love you. I love all of you," I announced for all the world to hear. Sam wrapped his arm around me protectively and we headed home. We arrived at Sam’s house and were invited in. Our parents sat at the kitchen table and Sam made me wait for him in the living room while he ran upstairs. He came back down moments later with an envelope in his hand. I could hear trumpets blowing in the distance as he handed it to me.

"What’s this?" I asked him with a puzzled expression.

"I couldn’t let you pay for your own ring, could I?" He said as he closed my fingers around the paper. "I wanted to get you something special. I’ve been saving up for forever. I just didn’t know what it was until we walked into the jewelry store. Then, it hit me and it was perfect." The envelope contained two hundred dollars in crisp twenty dollar bills.

"But Sam? Half of three-hundred is one-fifty." I said and laughed. "I know what a math whiz you are."

"Get yourself something pretty to wear with the change," he said jovially. I reluctantly placed the envelope in my purse. I hadn’t been expecting this at all. "I love you Joan. I guess you’re stuck with me now?" He smiled. The rings were only symbols of our love. Still, it was a love as pure and true as any the world had ever known.

Notes:

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Synopsis:

Aunt Melissa finally arrives from the land down under. Joan has a run in with a dissatisfied customer. She watches Sam pitch another game. The young lovers have a spat of sorts. Joan spends the evening alone until she meets the mysterious "Fred…" Will her entire life change as a result of this chance encounter?

Story:

Chapter 14

Reach Out

The days began to fly by in rapid succession. Each one pretty much the same as the last. It was now Thursday afternoon and I had to get home to wait for Aunt Melissa’s imminent arrival. I still hadn’t told Mom that she was coming a few weeks early. At this point it would simply have to be a "surprise."

I changed the sheets on my bed and moved my absolute necessities into the sewing room. I’d be sleeping on the floor for the length of her stay. We were scheduled to have steak earlier in the week, but I was saving it for Aunt Melissa. Things had calmed down substantially over the last few weeks. I hoped I hadn’t made a mistake by contacting her. If nothing else, it would give her more time to visit with her daughter and her son-in-law to be.

The doorbell rang somewhere around five o’clock. I ran excitedly to answer it. Upon seeing me Aunt Melissa stepped back and checked the numbers on the front of our house. She didn’t recognize me. I went to give her a hug and she froze up on me.

"Aunt Melissa, it’s me Joan!" I said to her. She eyed me curiously. I could tell that for a moment she thought she’d stepped into the twilight zone. I was the spitting image of her sister at the age of fourteen.

"Joan? I have a nephew named John…" and then it all fell into place for her. I’d been so used to just being "me" anymore that I hadn’t even thought to make the revelation of myself in any other way. "Oh John, what’s happened to you?" She cried. I almost began to panic. I could see her testifying in court on my father’s behalf. My thoughts drifted. I could almost hear her say in that strange accent she was developing: "Yes, that’s my former nephew John. His mother has turned him into some kind of sissy. I really think society would best be served if he were sent off to the Siberian Military Academy."

"I’m so glad you’re here," I said in an attempt to diffuse the situation. I grabbed her bags and carried them up to my room. Now what was I supposed to do? "You must be exhausted," I said in a matter of fact tone. "Would you like to take a nap?"

"I think what I’d really like, Love, is a drink." She said as we walked back downstairs. I poured her a gin and tonic and began preparing dinner.

"How do you like your steak?" I asked.

"Medium’s fine," she answered. The gulf of years since we’d last seen one another had become a bit too wide. I didn’t really know this woman at all. "So, what happened to my nephew?" She asked as she tossed back the drink and waited for a refill. I explained to her the long journey that I’d begun. I told her that I hoped she wasn’t too disappointed with me. Hell, I didn’t know what to say to her. I really asked her here to be moral support for Mom and lately Mom didn’t seem to be in need.

She listened to my story without interrupting me once. I could see a look of pained-expression erupt on her face. "I knew your Mum always wanted a daughter, but I never thought…" She said and her voice trailed off sadly. I didn’t want to upset her. Hell, I was just "me being me." I wasn’t sure how to win her over. Was it even possible?

"Aunt Melissa," I began. "I guess I’ve always been this way. Everything just seems like it’s the way it was meant to be," I said earnestly. "This isn’t about my mother, it’s about me and how I need to live my life. I too was shocked by her earlier behavior. At first, I thought Mom was making some insane attempt to lead me down the proverbial "primrose path," but in the end I decided that I love being Joan. I can’t imagine ever resuming my former life. Yes, I realize at this point, I really have no say in the matter. Adults rule my world. While they can control my body, no one will ever control my mind. My mind is made up. I will live the rest of my life as the woman I was meant to be."

She seemed to consider my pronouncement for the longest time. Finally she stood and hugged me close. "I don’t care whether you’re John or Joan or whatever. You’re my flesh and blood and I love you. Do you understand?" This was the acceptance I’d been seeking. I returned her hug and went back to preparing dinner.

"Have you told Melissa about your early arrival?" I asked trying to get a handle on the situation.

"I suppose I’d better or there’ll be hell to pay," she said with some resignation. "Still, I was really hoping to spend some time with you and your Mum; to make sure that all was well here before departing for Melissa’s neck of the woods." I explained to her that things had calmed down quite a bit from the time I’d made my request. She seemed pleased to hear it.

"Your father was never really sure what he wanted," she said in an off-handed manner. While I might have been annoyed with such a comment at some point earlier, I took it that she meant to be an ally to me and Mom.

"Well, I’m about to have a sister soon," I told her. "Maybe she’ll want to be a man when she grows up?" I said with a laugh. Aunt Mel just shook her head still trying to wrap her head around the whole idea. The easy flow of conversation between us was returning. This indeed was my mother’s sister. I found myself telling her everything: my job, my relationship with Sam, my friendship with Darla, what had transpired with my bastard father. I was indeed a whirlwind of information. If I didn’t think she’d object, I’d have joined her in a drink and a smoke. Still, today was not the time to push the envelope.

Mom arrived home promptly at six as per usual. Aunt Melissa ran up to her and gave her a tearful hug. The two women remained in that position for a long time. I finally had to break it up with promises of dinner. I took the meat out of the fridge and put it on the grill. I ran back inside and began setting the table in the dining room. Mom was still a bit overwhelmed by Aunt Melissa’s early arrival.

"Why didn’t you tell me you were coming early? Where are you going to sleep?" She went on like that for a few minutes. Finally I interrupted her and told her I had everything under control. It seems Uncle Harry was unable to get away early and would be along in two weeks’ time. Mom told her she could have my room for as long as she liked. I laughed when she said it. I was going to need a cot or something. I guessed if Sam and I were going to do any fooling around we’d have to do it at his house or in the woods.

Thankfully, Aunt Melissa didn’t give me away. She told Mom that she had some extra time and thought she’d spend a bit of it with her long lost sister. I freshened their drinks and returned to my post as head chef.

"So, I see you’ve lost a son and gained a daughter in my absence?" This, of course, from Aunt Melissa. Mom began explaining my metamorphosis to her in her own words. I doubt that she meant for me to hear it, but she said that I was the last straw with regards to my father’s leaving. I had very mixed emotions upon hearing that. I loved my dad a lot, but if he couldn’t accept me for who I was perhaps his leaving was the best thing for all concerned.

Dinner came off without a hitch. We went up to my room and I showed Aunt Mel how to use my computer so she could email everyone at home that she’d arrived here safely. I left the room when she picked up the phone to call my cousin. There was no need for me to overhear their private moments together. Mom had a few questions for me upon my arrival downstairs. Did I know she was coming early, etc. I decided that I was done lying and told her the truth. She smiled at me and told me it was probably a good idea. She missed having Mel around.

I blushed with joy as Mom showed Aunt Melissa the sewing room. She gave me all the credit for its existence. They began exchanging stories about learning how to sew at their mother’s hand as young girls. Mom seemed to naturally defer to anything Aunt Melissa had to say. Aunt Mel kept going on about how wonderful everything was in the land down under. It was closing in on ten o’clock when I finally bade them goodnight. Thankfully, they’d vacated the sewing room minutes earlier. I decided I’d better get some sleep. Two painting jobs on Fridays were a bit much. Fortunately, I wouldn’t have to pedal my bike all over the planet to get to them.

I heard Aunt Melissa asking Mom about my "condition" as I went upstairs to wash up for bed. It made me sad that she’d think of me as anything other than a normal, healthy fourteen year old kid. I guess all-in-all, asking Aunt Mel to come early had been a good idea. I hugged Teddy and Josam tightly as I drifted off to sleep.

Friday morning the smell of bacon cooking wafted down the hall and into my room. Like Pavlov’s dogs before me, I began salivating as I dressed quickly and ran to the kitchen. Aunt Mel was making a huge breakfast with everything from pancakes to home fries. Mom was already sitting at the table. I hadn’t seen her up this early in years. "A growing girl needs a good breakfast," she said to me as she loaded up my plate. With all the work I had to do this morning I wasn’t sure that leaving the house with a full stomach was a good idea. But, the aromas alone had my mouth watering.

I poured myself a glass of orange juice and sat down to eat. "Are you going to be alright on your own today Aunt Melissa?" I asked her feeling a bit guilty. Mom informed me that Mel was going to the library with her. There would be more than enough there to keep her busy for one day. I really hadn’t planned at all on how to entertain my Aunt during her visit. Mom seemed beyond thrilled to have her with us. That was all I’d ever wanted in the first place.

I rose from the table feeling thoroughly "stuffed." I kissed the ladies goodbye and as I made my way to the front door my mother called me back. "Joan, I have something here for you. It’s for emergencies only." She said as she handed me the pre-paid cell phone. "I have your number already programmed in. I expect you to carry it with you at all times." One minute I was thinking it was a gift for me, the next I realized it was a gift for her; just another way to assure herself of my safety.

The Whitcombs lived only a few blocks away. I could just as easily have walked over there. I almost went into shock when I saw who was opening the front door: Marcy Whitcomb. I knew Marcy from school. We’d had a few classes together over the years. I should have made the connection. She eyed me suspiciously as I continued up the walk. Marcy was a bit of a snot-nose and never gave "John" a break about anything. She had a fine future ahead of her as one who could magically turn "molehills into mountains."

"Good Morning, I’m Joan. I’m here to do some painting?" My voice automatically rose into a question at the end. Her eyes continued to burn right through me.

"I know who you are. I’ve heard all about you from Sarah. You’re the little tranny that goes around painting people’s houses for free!" She laughed.

"Is one of your parents home?" I asked politely. I didn’t need this job. Still, it wouldn’t do my reputation any good to start pissing off customers. In a community as small as our own one lived and died by one’s reputation.

"Mom, that tranny John Johnson is here to do your painting," she said and laughed again. I’d met her mother a few times, but I didn’t really know her at all. I was so tempted to just turn around, get on my bike and pedal away. Something held me there. Finally, Mrs. Whitcomb arrived at the front door.

She smiled at me and bade me welcome. I cautiously stepped inside. "Don’t you have something to do, Marcy?" her mother asked. "If you don’t have anything, I can find something for you." Marcy quickly scampered away. "I’m sorry about that, er? Joan, is it?"

"Yes ma’am, Joan’s fine." I said and followed her into the kitchen. I went on and explained about all my previous experience. I began thinking more and more that a book with pictures and letters of recommendation wouldn’t hurt my career at all. She pointed me in the direction of the paint and all the materials that I’d need for the job. I almost froze where I stood when I saw her choice of colors. I wasn’t so sure that painting a kitchen bright red was a good idea. "Are you sure about this color for the walls?" I asked deferentially.

She laughed and told me she’d been wanting to paint it that exact color for years. "You’re the boss," I said and began making preparations. I began to get a bad feeling about this job. I had this uncanny ability to be able to view the room in the completed color before an ounce of paint was applied to the walls. What I saw in my mind’s eye was a disaster waiting to happen. "Mrs. Whitcomb, suppose I just paint one wall, wait for it to dry and then you can make your final decision. By the way, if you do decide that you aren’t happy with it, the wall is going to need a coat or two of primer-sealer to keep the red from bleeding through." I thought I was being reasonable. Should I just walk away now?

"Ms. Johnson, I know what I want. Do you want the job, or don’t you?" She asked me with a trace of sternness in her voice. I didn’t say another word. I began laying the drop cloths everywhere and began painting the ceiling. At least she didn’t want the ceiling painted red. The semi-gloss of the red paint made the walls look like they were coated with fresh blood even when dried. I found myself shuddering uncontrollably as I surveyed my work. I realized that if I did have a "brag book" that I wouldn’t want a picture of this room in it. I laughed to myself.

Thankfully, Marcy never poked her head in the room during the rest of my stay. Mrs. Whitcomb paid me with cash. I was half-afraid that she was going to give me a check and stop payment on it when she finally came to her senses. Two old bromides popped into my head: 1) the customer is always right; and 2) there’s no accounting for taste. Still, anyone attempting to rectify this particular mistake would be in for a lot of work. It wasn’t my problem.

I pedaled home and ate my lunch. I had a hard time getting that red kitchen out of my head. Still, the lady of the house seemed happy with the results. The Cohen job that afternoon was a much more pleasant affair. Sam and Ida Cohen had lived in our humble community all their lives. Mrs. Cohen even told me that she recognized my picture from the newspaper. That had me blushing a bit. Their grandson was coming to stay with them for a time and they wanted me to paint their daughter’s old pink bedroom. I laughed as I remembered recently painting my own room pink.

I finished up early and was home by four o’clock. I thought that Mom might have dropped off Aunt Mel at some point during the day, but there was no sign that anyone had been there. I began making preparations for dinner. All the while I was mentally calculating my slowly amassing fortune. After my next trip to the bank, I’d have well over a thousand dollars in my account.

I ran upstairs and took a shower. It was then that I realized I’d forgotten to take my "pill" this morning. I stared at myself in the mirror as I ceremoniously placed the tiny blue tablet on my tongue and swallowed. For some reason the large white one had no psychological effect on me whatsoever. I closed my eyes for a moment and imagined my body changing. I got myself all dolled up and made my way back downstairs.

Shandy was waiting for me as I arrived in the front hallway. She seemed none the worse for wear. I really had to start paying more attention to the poor dog.

I was wrist deep in meatloaf when Sam came marching into the kitchen. "I heard you single-handedly destroyed someone’s kitchen this morning," he said and laughed.

"You heard what!!!" I exclaimed.

"Well with all this painting you’ve been doing, my Mom thought it was time that I did some painting around our house. So, I was down at Hospin’s looking at the color charts when Marcy and her mother came in. The old lady was livid and Marcy just kept saying "I told you so." Anyway, they did their best to blame you for the entire fiasco. Mr. Hospin saved your ass, by the way. He told the old lady that he warned her from the start that she didn’t want to use a red semi-gloss in her kitchen but she insisted. It really was kinda funny. They both left slamming the door behind them after exchanging words with Mr. H.

I was more concerned how/if this would effect my future personally as opposed to my career as a painter. "I knew I should have refused that job," I said at last. "Do you want to stay for dinner? I’m making my world famous meatloaf!" I said simply to change the subject. I suppose I needn’t have asked. I handed Sam some tools and set him to work making the salad.

Mom and Aunt Mel came home on time. Aunt Mel seemed to be comprised of boundless energy. "And who’s this strapping young man?" She asked as she came into the kitchen.

"Don’t you remember me Mrs. Yarborough?" asked Sam in a hurtful manner.

"Sammmmm" Aunt Mel began. You could tell she was dying to say "Samantha" but stopped on the "m." Aunt Melissa went and gave the big guy a hug. They exchanged pleasantries and Aunt Mel "ooh’d" and "ahh’d" over how big Sam had grown. I was tending to the food when the phone rang. Without missing a beat Aunt Melissa picked up.

"Just what is your problem ma’am?" said Aunt Melissa into the phone. "I’ve seen my niece’s work and it’s excellent," she continued. It didn’t take me long to figure out that Mrs. Whitcomb was the other party on the line. I stood next to Aunt Melissa and attempted to grab the phone away from her. "If it’s a fight you’re looking for lady, you’ve found one. I’m sure my niece’s work was first rate. Did she pick out the color, or did you?" Aunt Mel asked her as she continued to hold the phone away from me. Finally, after much begging I managed to get the phone away from Aunt Melissa.

"Mrs. Whitcomb?" I began. "I understand you’re unhappy with the way the room turned out? How can I help you?" I asked sincerely in an attempt to be reasonable. She did her best to set my ear on fire. "I’m sorry you’re unhappy ma’am. I tried to warn you about that color. You did insist… Threatening me is not going to get you anywhere ma’am." I tried to remain calm. The lady would have none of it. At some point, I simply hung up the phone. I began to wonder if my painting career was over before it began.

"That toad. You shouldn’t have attempted to put up with her nonsense," Aunt Mel informed me matter-of-factly. It was times like these that I wished my father were here. I’m sure he could have devised a contract for me to work under. Simply stating that the choice of colors lay solely with the customer. I decided in the end that I’d attempt to draft something for myself. How hard could it be? Starting with my next job I was going to start taking before and after pictures and asking for letters of recommendation. I knew better than to be caught up in garbage like this.

Mom and Aunt Mel sat at the table, the dining room of course, and drank and smoked. Sam and I waited on them. I was glad for his help. I found myself wondering all through dinner if he was going to bolt early to eat dinner at his own home. Still, with all the food he packed away I didn’t see how that would be possible. It turned out that Aunt Melissa was an avid baseball fan and hadn’t been to a game in years; not since the family had moved to Australia. Sam was the only pitcher in the league yet to give up a run. The way he told the story it was like it was "no big deal" but, he knew and I knew that it was a very big deal indeed. Sam’s birth gender would never keep him off a team again.

Aunt Melissa began clearing the table when the meal was finished. In her house, she said, one cooks and the other one cleans up. I liked that rule a lot better than the one in existence in my house. Still, I couldn’t possibly complain. Mom was the best. With dinner over Mom asked us what we wanted to do for the evening. I knew Sam had an early curfew. I couldn’t believe he took that stuff so seriously. He told me that sometimes the coach would call your home phone number and if you weren’t there, you didn’t play in the next day’s game.

Sam thanked me for dinner and told me he’d see me at the game tomorrow. I didn’t even know who they were playing. Lately, baseball was becoming a chore for me. I never thought that would happen. I did my best to keep the excitement alive for Sam’s sake. I took great pleasure in his joy of the game though. There was only one time he shined as he did on the pitcher’s mound and that was when he was safely in my arms. We hugged and kissed and I told him I’d see him on the morrow.

I went back into the kitchen where the ladies were finishing cleaning up. The easy banter between the two of them was a joy to watch. A sudden sadness swept over me that I’d never know that feeling. "Go and make yourself pretty little one." This from Aunt Melissa. "We’re off on a shopping excursion!" I ran upstairs and did just that. I’m not sure why I was excited about the prospect of going shopping with my mother and Aunt Mel, but I was. I sprayed myself liberally with Cool Water before returning downstairs.

"When are we going to be seeing Melissa?" I asked Aunt Mel upon returning.

"She and Dan will be here on Sunday," said Aunt Melissa excitedly. She’d yet to meet her son-in-law to be. "Melissa tells me he’s quite the hunk," she said laughing. "We’ll see." We climbed into Mom’s car and off to the mall we went. "What’s that on your shoulder child?" she asked as I exited the vehicle. My shoulder? Oh No! the tattoo!

"It’s just a henna tattoo" I informed her nonchalantly.

"Ah, they’re all the rage back home," she replied.

We spent hours walking to and fro throughout the mall. For the most part Mom and Aunt Melissa were lost in conversation. I just walked with them taking it all in as best I could. I found myself envying the ease they had with each other. In the end they both came home with a few new outfits. Mom explained that some things were cheaper to buy than to make. As a consolation prize, I came home with a new eyeliner. I was anxious to test it out.

Chapter 15

Come Saturday Morning

Saturday morning I was up at seven and outside mowing our lawns. It seemed Sam was expecting me to mow his anymore. It was OK, I didn’t mind. I finished up and went upstairs to take a shower. I wasn’t going to forget to take my pill again. I’d only taken a few of them but so far, I’d noticed absolutely nothing. I figured that Mom and Aunt Melissa were going to be asleep for some time yet, so I made my way to the bank. I felt a bit nervous walking around with $500 in my purse. It felt good just knowing I had all that money at my disposal should I need it.

There still weren’t any signs of life upon my return home. I decided that I’d make breakfast this morning. I put on a pot of coffee and began frying up a pound of sausage. Mom was going to have to buy some extra food for the length of Aunt Mel’s stay. Just as I had everything under way, the human garbage disposal came waltzing into the kitchen.

"We’re all out of breakfast food at my house," he announced as he poured himself a cup of coffee. "Nice job on the lawn, by the way. When are you coming back to do the trimming?" I laughed at him by way of reply. He looked so damned cute in his baseball uniform.

"Shouldn’t you be on your way already?" I asked.

"Coach is picking me up at eleven. I figured I had just enough time to stop over here for breakfast. Hurry it up sweetheart!" he exclaimed. I put the eggs on over easy and began slicing up the hard rolls.

"Sam, you watch the food. I have to go and wake up the rest of the house." I ran upstairs and began banging on bedroom doors. "Breakfast is ready in five!" I shouted. Sam had the table all set. He put out the butter and the jam and sat back down with his mouth watering. I initially tried giving him four sausages, but he held his plate out in front of me with his eyes pleading. I piled two more onto his plate. Six sausages, three eggs over easy, and two hard rolls later he was finished. Where the hell did he put it all?

Mom and Aunt Melissa were still struggling to wake up. They sat at the table with mugs of coffee held half-way to their faces. I ate while I waited for them to awaken so I could cook their eggs. Sam was in a boisterous mood and thanked us all in advance for coming to his game. I kissed him goodbye and he was gone. I felt reasonably full with the one egg, two links, and one roll that I’d consumed. I began taking egg orders from the ladies. "Nothing too fancy," I informed them. It was eggs over easy for everyone. As I was serving up their breakfast I realized that I’d forgotten to cancel my appointment with Aunt Viv this past Thursday.

I ran up to my former room and dialed Darla’s number. Aunt Vivian answered on the first ring. "Aunt Vivian, this is Joan. Listen, I’m really sorry about missing my appointment on Thursday. I promise it won’t happen again." She laughed and informed me that my mother had called early Thursday evening canceling it. Whew!

"Are you taking your pills?" She asked me.

"Yes ma’am, but they don’t seem to be doing anything."

"Give it time," she said with great authority. "Did you want to speak to Darla?" As a matter of fact, I did! Maybe I could convince her to come to the game with me? She seemed to have a good time at the last two games we attended.

"Sure! Is she available?" I waited a minute while I heard Aunt Vivian screaming in the background for Darla to come and get the phone. In no time at all, I heard her bubbly voice coming through the receiver.

"Darla, would you like to come to the baseball game with me in a little bit?" I held the phone while I heard Darla screaming to her mother asking if it was OK if she came with us.

"I’d love to go Joan! When are you going to pick me up?" I was so blessed to have her for a friend. It would be more fun having someone my own age to talk to while we watched the game. That, plus, I still felt a bit creepy going to the ballpark after the incident with my father.

"We’ll be there by noon!" I said excitedly. She kissed me over the phone before hanging up. Everything seemed right with the world.

I took my new eyeliner and made several feeble attempts to apply it. It was useless. I carried the pencil downstairs and sought the help of experts. Aunt Melissa bounded up from her chair and told me to sit. I sat and closed my eyes while she made a defining line on my upper lids. The effect of that simple line was amazing. It gave incredible definition to my eyes; my eyes seemed deeper, a darker green, and larger. I loved the look!

I told Mom that we needed to stop and pick up Darla along the way. She seemed happy to have the added company. I then found out that Aunt Alice was coming with us too. We arrived at the ballpark where I learned that the Waves opponents would be The Wessex County Wolverines. They too were undefeated at this point in the season. The crowd turnout seemed to be building as the season went along. This was the best team that our county had fielded in my lifetime.

Finally with the Star Spangled Banner finished, the home team took the field. Sam seemed fearless as he began his warm-up tosses. Both teams entered the game with a 3 and 0 record. I could tell just by watching that the stadium crowd was invisible to Sam. His focus was intense. He struck out the first two batters on six pitches, the third batter however, got an infield hit. A sigh of disappointment erupted from the stands. Did they expect him to pitch a no-hitter every time he took the mound?

The clean-up hitter was a big guy; their center fielder. For reasons unknown to me, Sam smiled at him before releasing the first pitch. I could almost feel the breeze in the stands as his bat swung ferociously over it Sam’s smile grew wider as he bared down on the hitter. Three pitches later it was the Waves’ turn to bat.

Aunt Alice cooed like a mother hen over her son’s accomplishments. Mom and Aunt Melissa seemed lost in conversation. Darla’s mind was elsewhere, but she wasn’t talking. "Darla, are you OK?" I had to ask.

"I’m sorry Joan, just things have been a bit strange with Sarah lately. She called me up last night and was hooting and hollering about how you’d destroyed someone’s kitchen. It seems Marcy called her up and told her the whole story. I don’t know why Sarah hates you so? I told her that you were my best friend and if she didn’t knock it off that she and I were through. I finally had to hang up on her. She just went on and on and on." Damn, this painting situation wasn’t going to go away on its own. I wasn’t sure what if anything I could do about it.

The bottom half of the first inning progressed. Sam was up in the clean-up hitter’s spot. In fact, he was the only pitcher in the league to bat clean-up. The situation was the same as the top of the first. There were two outs with a man on first. Sam took the first pitch for a called strike one. He sent the next pitch sailing over the center field wall. He hit the sign that promised dinner for two at a local steak house. The next batter up grounded out to the pitcher. The score was Waves 2 Wolverines, nothing.

The game continued on in rapid fashion. Before I knew it, it was the fifth inning and I was getting kind of hungry. I found myself more than a bit freaked out at the prospect of hitting the concession stands, still a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. I took everyone’s order and nudged Darla till she agreed to accompany me. Thankfully, there were no taps on my shoulder. I wondered if I’d ever get over that? We made it back just as the Waves were coming to bat in the bottom of the fifth. Sam was pitching another shutout. He was the only pitcher with a 0.00 era in the league. I was so damned proud of him.

Hot dogs and sodas for five. I sighed as I realized that my weekly allowance and then some was gone with this one "snack." $25 for some crappy franks and watered down sodas.. jeeeeeez! Still, no one was opening their wallets to reimburse me. Oh well, such was life. Sam came up again in the bottom of the fifth with two outs and the bases loaded. The count was 3 balls and no strikes when the next pitch struck him squarely in the back. He dropped like a sack of potatoes. A hush fell over the crowd. I was half tempted to run down onto the field. By the time I realized what I was doing I noticed Darla’s hands restraining me.

At long last Sam arose and was helped to first base. The crowd cheered as one. The umpire went out and warned the pitcher. He seemed beyond upset that his pitch had struck an opponent. The Waves broke the game wide open after that and by the time the inning ended, they were ahead 6 to nothing. The real test lay ahead as Sam took the mound for the top of the sixth.

I could see the beads of perspiration forming on his brow. He looked a bit disoriented as the inning began. The first batter hit a bullet right back at him and he snagged it protectively. Again, the crowd cheered. Just five more outs and Sam would have his third victory. Sam regained his form and struck out the next two batters on seven pitches. If I wasn’t already in love with him, I’d find myself falling head over heels for the big guy.

The game ended unceremoniously as the Wolverines went down to their first defeat. The Waves were the only team in the league with an undefeated record. I was so damned proud of him, I felt about to burst. Aunt Alice couldn’t stop beaming. Aunt Melissa was in awe. Darla and I stood there hugging one another and jumping up and down like a couple of idiots. Darla came down with me and we waited outside the locker room for Sam to appear. He wasn’t long in coming. Obviously, he never showered with the rest of the guys.

I found myself at the back of a long line of fans waiting for the players to appear. The girls were all over Sam as he made his exit. I was filled with mixed emotions. I was prouder than hell over my man’s accomplishments but, I was a bit jealous as he seemed to linger when chatting with a few of them. "Sam, over here!" I called to him. He strode purposefully in my direction. I wrapped my arms around his neck and put on a big show for all to see. There would be no mistaking just who this particular player belonged to! Meanwhile, Darla stood smirking in the background.

"We were just about to head out to get something to eat" I concocted. "Are you coming with us?" I asked pleadingly.

"I’d love to, but the coach promised us all pizza if we won the game. I’m sure sorry Joan…" He said and his voice faded away. For some reason I found myself feeling the fool. He’d rather be with his friends than be with me? I felt like a total begging idiot. I assured him that it was fine with me and walked off arm-in-arm with Darla. She knew what a big jerk he was being. We made our way back to the stands where the ladies were waiting. They looked at me inquisitively when they saw we were sans Sam. I explained the situation.

Aunt Mel gave me her best "boys will be boys" routine, but I’d swear I saw a look of worry cross Mom’s and Aunt Alice’s faces. Was there something going on that I had no idea about? We did indeed go out for a bite to eat. I took no joy in the food or the company. If ever there was a time when I wanted to be off somewhere by myself, this was it.

The three ladies got on like a house afire. I was grateful for that at least. Darla did her best to keep my head here on planet earth. I wasn’t too fond of anyone at the moment. "Darla, you want to do something this evening?" I asked her. I rarely even noticed anymore but we were still wearing our matching earrings. Those and the tattoos made us look like sisters. OK, I was the ugly sister.. but, sisters we appeared.

"I’m supposed to go out with Sarah," she began. Talk about the wrong thing to say. I bit my tongue and told my friend that it was just an idea. I didn’t want to interfere in her personal life. Hell, I had no specific plans. I just didn’t want to spend the evening alone and, at the moment, I certainly didn’t want to see Sam. In fact, I was determined to make myself unavailable to him. "Would you like to come with us? We’re probably going to stop over at Sally’s for a bit?" The prospect of seeing Sally piqued my interest. Still, the thought of seeing Sarah put a total damper on the idea for me. I thanked her politely for her offer but demurred in the final analysis.

Before I knew it we were back home again. I couldn’t even go hide (sulk) in my room. I felt an overwhelming desire to sleep. Hell, Sam had just gone out with the guys to celebrate their victory. No big deal, right? I’m not even sure why I was angry with him. I guess because I felt left out somehow more than anything else. That and I couldn’t get over the look that passed between Mom and Aunt Alice. I closed the door to the sewing room, laid down on the floor and wept. I wasn’t even sure just why I was crying. Finally, I fell asleep. I was awakened by Aunt Melissa knocking on the door.

"Wake up sleepyhead," she intoned. "Since you’ve already had three meals today, your mother has put together a light salad for us. Come on, let’s eat." She sounded a bit too chipper for the way I was feeling. I checked my face in the full-length mirror and touched up my makeup. I put on my best fake smile and made my way into the kitchen. Mom and Aunt Melissa were as per usual lost in conversation. It seemed they were going out that evening with Aunt Alice. It would have been a perfect time for me and Sam to get together, I thought sadly.

At length, Mom asked me how I was going to spend my evening. I honestly had no idea. I just knew I had to get out of the house. I told her that I’d probably hang out on the boardwalk for a bit. She told me to be careful and make sure that I had my cell phone with me. I smiled at her and assured her that I’d be just fine. I wanted to ask her if Sam had called while I slept, still I knew if he had that she’d have told me. I guess I was becoming too dependent on the big guy. I vowed to change all that.

Come eight o’clock, the ladies were all dolled up and heading out for the evening. The three of us together did indeed look like sisters. I found myself wishing that Aunt Melissa didn’t live half a world away. "You can go out if you want, just make sure you’re home by eleven," said Mom. I knew she’d be ringing the home phone promptly at eleven to make sure I was home; safe and sound. A devious part of my brain wondered if call forwarding to my cell phone would work? We didn’t have the service and besides, it would show up on the bill. In any event, I had nothing exciting planned for the evening.

I bade them goodbye and told them I’d see them both in the morning. I ran up to my room and retrieved my guitar. I put it in its soft case and made my way to the beach. It had been a long time since I’d serenaded the ocean. And, I’d never done it at night.

It was only eight thirty, but the sun was already going to bed. Twilight time had arrived. The boardwalk was lit up like a Christmas Tree but the effect wouldn’t be fully noticeable for another hour. I made my way onto the beach and walked down to ocean’s edge. I removed the guitar from my shoulder and began picking some soulful chords. The sadness emanating from the instrument actually began to make me feel better. Before long I was singing some sad lament. "there isn’t that much ocean between Boston and Saint John’s" (Great Big Sea). I sat there strumming and singing sadly when before I knew it a young man had sidled up next to me.

"You’re not bad for a girl," he said generously.

"What would you know about it?" I asked playing along. He held his hands out for my guitar and I handed it to him. Not sure why I did that, but he seemed like a nice kid. He began playing and I found it hard to believe that anyone could be as good as he was.
"It’s not a bad piece for a beginner’s instrument," he said handing it back to me. "By the way, my name’s Fred."

"Ah, better Fred than dead?" I asked facetiously. He laughed and suggested I tell him something that he hadn’t heard before a million times.

"Why so sad? Boy troubles?" He asked again. I should have been pissed-off or at least nervous, but somehow this guy set me completely at ease. I found myself telling him all about Sam. I’d never spoken to a boy before coming from this position. It was beyond strange. I almost felt like I was betraying myself, but I had to admit, I kind of liked it. Life was once again becoming complicated.

I played a few more songs for him. He asked me for my phone number. I was feeling beyond strange. Could I give some boy my phone number? What if he found out about me? He obviously thought I was a young girl. If only he hadn’t seemed so damned nice! "Have you ever thought about singing with a band?" He asked me out of nowhere. If I’d ever had one dream in my life, that was it. To be the lead singer in a band. Still, that particular dream predated "Joan" entirely.

"What if I have?" I just had to say.

"Well, I might be able to make that happen," he replied. "I’ve been in a few bands and, it’s been awhile but I’ve been thinking all summer about forming another one. Are you interested?" Was I interested? Is a bear Catholic? (or something like that.) I gave him my number. He promised to call. Then, he did something totally unexpected. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me. I’d never… I was totally blown away. So many thoughts assaulted my brain that I was overtaken by gridlock: revulsion, repulsion, anger, and dare I say it. Hell, dare I think it? Hunger… What the hell was happening to me? I just managed to come up for air when he kissed me again.

I melted in his arms. I knew it was wrong, but I just couldn’t help myself. In fact, I had a hard time remembering just why it was wrong. Ah yes, I was really a genetic boy in love with a lovely genetic girl. Why did life have to be so complicated? Could I actually find myself having "feelings" for some guy? Was I turning gay? It’s funny, I thought of Sam as male but it all just seemed so natural between us. This just seemed perverse somehow. What scared me even more was that it seemed "right" somehow.

Fred kissed me one last time before departing and promised to call me tomorrow. I sat there on the beach staring out to sea wondering just where life was taking me. Did I really want this guy calling me? Well, the thought of being the lead singer in a band was beyond appealing to me. On that count alone, YES! I wanted him to call. Still, what if he knew the "truth" about me? Hell, he’d probably kill me or have me killed. I’m not sure when or if I’ve ever felt sadder.

I sat there and played a few more songs. They weren’t helping. I carefully shook any grains of sand that might have accumulated from my guitar and packed it in its case. It was closing in on eleven o’clock as I made my way home. I was just in time. I saw the group of idiots marching down the boardwalk towards me. My jaw dropped when I noticed Sam among them. I walked a little faster, not sure if they noticed me and in a sense, not really caring.

The phone was ringing as I entered the front door. I ran to pick it up. "So, did you like your present?" The voice asked. It wasn’t Mom, but Darla.

"What are you talking about?" I asked innocently.

"Fred. Did you like him?" She asked. So, I’d been set up. What the hell was I supposed to say now? I wasn’t in the mood for this conversation at all. Fred had been a set-up. Sam was hanging with the idiots that were going to get him in trouble. My life was a mess.

"He seemed like a nice guy," I said finally. I had no further comments to make. I waited for her to speak. I heard laughter in the background. Were they all laughing at me? "Goodnight Darla" I said and hung up the phone. I seriously felt like slashing my wrists. No, I’m not taking things too seriously, and no, I’m not making light of the act. I was devastated. I felt betrayed by everyone I knew. I half-expected her to call back. Just when I’d given up the phone rang again. "What do you want now?" I asked as I picked up the phone.

"Joan, are you all right?" Mom asked. Was I all right? There were a million reasons why I wasn’t all right. None of them could I divulge to Mom.

"I’m just fine Mom" I assured her not wanting to go into any lengthy explanations as to just how miserable I felt. I almost felt like smashing my guitar to little bits. Had it all been a joke? Did I really need someone else’s affirmation that I was good at singing and playing? What the hell was wrong with me? Mom took me at my word and told me that she’d see me in the morning. I hung up the phone and made myself ready for bed.

Sleep didn’t come easy for me that Saturday night. Lying on the floor didn’t help. I found myself wishing I had a stuffed animal that was neither Teddy nor Josam. They looked so innocent that in the end, I couldn’t resist them. I hugged them both tightly and shed many a tear before I finally drifted off to sleep…

Notes:

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Synopsis:

Joan begins to wonder if she’s turning gay. Sam has some serious relationship questions as well. Joan’s cousin pays a visit. The young lovers make up one more time…

Story:

Chapter 16

Time

I awoke early on Sunday morning. I was beginning to get used to the hardness of the floor. I felt somewhat refreshed, yet anxious as well. The anxiety bothered me, cause I wasn’t sure just what I was anxious about. The memories of yesterday came flooding back to me. Sam’s (typical) asinine behavior, Darla’s cruel joke, and Fred’s, what about Fred? I found myself wishing that I’d gotten his phone number as well. I wasn’t too shy about calling him up and finding out just what in hell was going on. I’d have to get what information I could from Darla.

I went upstairs and showered up. The worries of last night began to fade slightly. I wondered how long Mom and Aunt Mel were going to sleep. I became annoyed with myself for not moving the bulk of my clothes downstairs as well. I had nothing clean to put on. I emptied out the hamper and put in a load of wash. While the machine was "cooking," I donned my dirty clothes and made my way to Belle’s Bakery. I’d been spending money lately like they were going to stop printing it soon. The store was relatively empty this early in the day. Belle herself waited on me and as I gave her my order, she stared at me curiously.

I could tell that she didn’t recognize me, but the tone of my voice and my standard order of a small cheesecake and some donuts put her mind in overdrive. I wasn’t in the mood to explain things to her. As I left the store with my packages, she continued staring at me with a quizzical look glued to her face. I’m not sure why, but it made me smile. I actually found myself whistling on the way home. I began to unconsciously swing the boxes of goodies to and fro. I caught myself before I did any damage to the contents.

What was I going to do about Sam? What were these strange feelings I was having for Fred? I felt angry and guilty simultaneously. I arrived back home, let the dog in, put the clothes in the dryer, and sat down to have a cup of coffee and a cigarette. It was just eight o’clock in the morning. While I sat at the table lost in thought Aunt Melissa came staggering into the kitchen. "What’s going on here?" She asked as she eyed me with my cigarette and coffee. I decided not to address her question if at all possible. She took a seat and I brought her a cup of coffee. I continued on as if all were normal.

She didn’t refuse the cheesecake when I offered it to her. "Ah! Belle’s cheesecake! I didn’t even realize how much I missed this little slice of heaven." Thankfully, she seemed to accept the situation and I just smiled at her. While she was lost in the confection, the dryer buzzer started going off and I ran downstairs to remove the clothes and put another load in. It seemed like my entire life was spent doing chores of one kind or another.

"Does your mother know you smoke?" She asked at last. I thought about going into combat mode with her, but in the end I decided on another tack entirely.

"Would you like one?" I asked and extended the pack to her. She shook her head from side to side and smiled at me, finally accepting my offer. I was grateful for her attitude, I hated sneaking around doing anything. I was still locked in conflict over having kissed a boy. There was no one else I could discuss it with. Well, maybe Aunt Vivian, but I wasn’t so sure I wanted to mention it to her either. "Aunt Melissa, can I ask you something?" I gathered up the courage to say.

"You can ask me anything at all sweetheart," she said as we sat there drinking coffee and smoking.

"This will stay just between us?" I watched her face carefully waiting for her reply. Her voice and expression oozed sincerity as she assured me that she’d not tell a soul. I began relaying the events of last evening. It was easier to tell than I thought it would be. However, I had a difficult time explaining, understanding, my own role in the matter. "I kissed a boy last night. Do you think I’m turning gay?" I blurted out at last. I’m not sure why, but I found that thought more disturbing than any other I could possibly think of.

I knew had I asked Aunt Vivian this question she’d have thrown it right back at me. I could almost hear her retort: "Do you think you are?" I’d been down this road at least a dozen times since the "kiss" had transpired last evening. I guess if I was a genetic boy attracted to other boys there was no getting around it: I was gay. Still, part of me rejected my basic premise. I wasn’t really a boy after all, was I? And though I’d been glib about it in the past, what did that make me now, a lesbian? I wasn’t exactly crying, but tears started rolling silently down my cheeks.

"Sweetheart, I think you’re one of the loveliest people it’s ever been my pleasure to know. The fact that you’re my niece is just an added bonus." She made her statement with conviction. It wasn’t like she was just telling me what I wanted to hear. "Give yourself time to find out who you are. You’re only fourteen. Up until last night you’d never thought about boys that way before, had you?"

I had to agree that I hadn’t. That didn’t change the fact that I was thoroughly confused about what I was feeling now. I knew in my heart that I truly loved Sam. He just seemed like a baby in so many ways. I found myself laughing out loud as I thought that girls don’t always grow up faster than boys do. Then again, who was the girl, and who was the boy? I just wished all this confusion would end and I could go about peacefully living my life.

Aunt Mel couldn’t have handled the situation better. She was both understanding and comforting. How had she gotten so wise? My stomach finally stopped churning. I was finally able to eat something. Half a donut though was all I could handle. It seemed overpoweringly heavy and sweet. I felt at ease for the first time in awhile. I thanked Aunt Melissa for listening to me and reminded her of her promise not to tell anyone about what we’d discussed. The twinkle in her eyes told me that my story was safe with her.

"I just wish you didn’t live so far away," I sighed. She smiled at me and told me cryptically that things change. I was so tempted to press the issue but, the look on her face told me to drop it. "What would you like to do today?" I asked.

"Well, Melissa and Dan should be here by five. What say you take your poor old Auntie to the beach? The last time we went together you didn’t come much above my knee and you were carrying a little plastic pail and shovel!" She laughed.

"What about Mom?" I had to ask.

"Leave her sleep. The poor thing didn’t get to bed till after three. If she’s still sleeping when we get back, we’ll wake her up!"

I was excited to be going to the beach with Aunt Mel. I put on my new blue on blue suit and slid my breast forms into the cups sadly. Were my boobs ever going to start growing? Aunt Melissa met me in the front hallway. She laughed and made a derisive comment about "how I’d grown." I laughed with her, gathered up one of the spare beach passes and we were off.

"You really do make a fine looking young lady," she said matter of factly. I had to restrain myself from punching her on the shoulder. Old habits die hard. The day was a brilliant one. It wasn’t quite ten o’clock yet the beach was filling up rapidly. We perched midway between the ocean and the boardwalk and began applying lotion to each other’s unreachable areas.

"I really do love it here," she said. "The ocean’s not quite as blue as it is back home, but it’s close enough. Tell me, what other bad habits have you acquired along the way?" She asked out of nowhere. My mind sped rapidly over things that would be considered inappropriate for one of my tender age; drinking and sex came in at the top of the list. I remained silent and she let the topic pass.

I laid on my back to get a tan and take a nap, closed my eyes and began to drift off. I was awakened with a start by Sam’s unmistakable voice. "I saw you last night," he said accusingly, totally ignoring Aunt Melissa’s presence.

"I saw you too," I threw right back at him. "Well, you’re here, I guess you didn’t get arrested," I added sarcastically. I wanted to ask him just why he was hanging out with those creeps. What could possibly be the attraction? Why hadn’t he called me? It seemed like Saturdays were now boys’ nights out. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. We’d been doing this dance a bit too much lately.

"Come walk with me," he begged. After all the hard feelings that had taken place the last time I’d refused, I slowly got up from the blanket.

"Aunt Melissa, do you mind?" I asked politely.

"Go ahead children. I know my way home if need be."

I stood myself up and Sam reached for my hand. I instinctively pulled it away. He tried again with the same result. "Let’s just walk," I said kindly. We strolled along the heavily compacted sand. An occasional wave struck our feet. We paid no notice.
"I have something to tell you," he said seriously. I had something to tell him too, but I wasn’t so sure that I was going to. "I kissed a boy last night," he said and began weeping copiously. Suddenly the shoe was on the other foot. Given that I’d done exactly the same thing, I shouldn’t have been so upset, but I was. What the hell was happening to us"

"Who was it? Is he gay?" He actually managed to laugh at that. Somehow his laughter made me feel even more uneasy. I began to dread where this was going. "It was Billy, wasn’t it?" I asked him knowing in my heart that it was, wishing for all I was worth that I was wrong. If it had been no big deal, I couldn’t even see him mentioning it to me. I began to feel sick. I sat down on the wet sand and put my head between my knees. His silence was all the answer that I needed. He didn’t love me for who I was. He was into boys after all. I found myself sobbing before I even realized what was happening. My stomach burst into a fit of dry heaves.

Finally, I managed to gather control of myself and asked him, "Who kissed whom?" I sat there dreading the answer. Did I really want to know? Was it even important. Why was he even telling me all this? "I thought you loved me?" I sobbed and found myself staring down at the wedding bands on our hands.

"Joan, we were just all fooling around and one of the guys bet Billy that he wouldn’t kiss me. You see, no one else knows that I’m not really a boy." So there it was. Sam was asserting his femininity at last? I felt a part of me die. Would I even be in this position if it weren’t for Sam? I knew I was being unfair in that regard. Still, for the moment everything seemed hopeless. "I’m so sorry sweetheart," he said and attempted to put his arm around me. I wanted to tell him about Fred, but I didn’t want it to seem I was trying to one-up him. I just wanted to let him know. Yet, I knew that any mention of Fred would be the death knell for our relationship. If indeed we did have any future together at this point.

"It’s you that I love, Joan. I’m not interested in anyone else." Should I press the issue? If what he’d just said were true, why did he bother telling me at all? I decided that I wasn’t going to hide either. If there was pain to be felt, I’d share the wealth. Circumstances be damned.

"Sam, I hope you don’t think what I’m about to tell you is by way of retaliation? You see, I kissed a boy last night as well." He seemed totally unprepared for this. Perhaps I shouldn’t have said anything? A look of anger swept over him.

"You’ve had me here all bent out of shape and you’ve been unfaithful to me?" He asked incredulously. He had to have a y chromosome hiding within him somewhere. How could he be so stupid?

"Sam, there were no bets made. I didn’t initiate the kiss, but I didn’t stop it either. I’m so sorry," I wailed. Rather then jumping up and running away as I’d expected, he hugged me tight. "Maybe we’re just too young to be committing to one another?" I stated as a question. I was tiring of this roller coaster ride. I just wanted to live my life on some kind of even keel.

And what about Fred? What was his role, his goal in all of this? Had he simply made a bet with Darla that he could get my phone number? What scared me most was that I wasn’t repulsed at having kissed a boy. It couldn’t be the hormones, could it? I put such thoughts away as being absurd or at best, wishful thinking. So, where did we go now? My relationship with Sam had changed drastically over the last few months. Had we been better off the way things were before we became romantically involved? I knew in my heart that there was no going back.

We couldn’t simply perform some secret handshake and go back to being best friends; too many things had changed. "I do love you Sam. Not saying that with any equivocation. I want us to be together always. At the foundation of any successful relationship is trust and open lines of communication. How do I know that? I just do." My world began to settle. I felt a tad nervous just knowing at the drop of a hat it could all just as easily fall apart. "Promise me that we’ll always be together," I said solemnly.

He hugged me tighter still. I’d been so afraid that he was just going to run away. I found my anger for Billy growing. I knew however, that it "takes two to tango." For some reason, I felt sure of myself and of Sam. I nestled my head in the crook of his shoulder and he continued to hold me. He grabbed my head in his hands and kissed me with a burning passion. It was the perfect kiss. Our previous doubts evaporated with the surf.

I guess in a way we were just two kids "playing" at love. Though I refused to believe it at the time and would have bet my life against it, the reality was that we were just past our fourteenth birthdays. Was it simply too much? Were Sam and I promising each other too much too soon? In the final analysis, I simply couldn’t imagine my life without Sam in it. The possibility of that happening sent chills down my spine. I could tell by his demeanor that he was finally at peace. Knowing that alone helped calm me down. I hated to admit that I was so dependent on another person. I found myself thinking that if my own father could desert me, then anybody could.

Sam and I walked back to where we’d left Aunt Melissa laying on the blanket. She was still there. I smiled at her as we approached. I just knew that she wouldn’t leave me there all alone. I ran up to her and hugged her tight. She seemed a bit disconcerted at my show of affection. If I could put words into her mouth the one that sprang to mind was: "kids." I wasn’t sure exactly how, but I was gaining more from her visit than I’d ever thought possible.

"Did you two have a nice walk?" She asked knowingly. We both gave her a gapped tooth grin by way of reply. "I’m glad that’s all settled then. What say I buy you two lunch?" There was no need to ask Sam twice, at the mention of food he was off and running.

"Say Joan, I owe you a steak dinner," Sam said remembering his smash over the center field wall yesterday. Had that just been yesterday?

"Just let me know when and I’m there," I replied. Aunt Mel smiled at our easy banter. When asked for a suggested eatery, Sam was determined to get his sausage sandwich. We sat at one of the open tables facing the boardwalk and ate a leisurely lunch. Finally, it was time to be heading home. My cousin and her beau would be arriving in just awhile. I hoped that Mom had awakened at some point?

We walked in to a smell of turkey roasting in the oven. This was a strange summertime dish, but not an unwelcome one. "Sam, why don’t you go home and ask your mother if she’d like to join us for dinner? I assume you’ll be here?" Mom asked and laughed. Sam blushed slightly at her comment.

"I’ll be right back," he said and made for his own house.

"Joan, some young man named Fred called while you were gone. Do you know him?" I felt my feet freeze to the floor. I began to stammer as I considered an answer.

"Did you get his phone number?" was the best I could come up with before I was rendered speechless. Mom laughed knowingly and told me that indeed she had and had promised him that I’d call him back before the evening was through. What could I possibly say to Fred? Why had he even bothered to call? Was the "joke" still on? There was no way I was talking to Fred until I spoke to Darla first. I excused myself and made my way upstairs to give her a call.

"Darla?" I asked as I heard the phone picked up. "What was that all about last night?" I asked and waited for a reply. I was greeted by stone cold silence on the other end. I waited. I could wait just as long as she could. Hell, I could wait longer if need be.

"Fred told me that you kissed him. Is it true?" What possible difference could it make to her if I had indeed kissed him?

"Yes, it’s true. So what?" I was getting annoyed. "What was the nature of this obvious set-up?" I followed. "Why in my moment of weakness would you send someone out after me in that way? I thought you were my friend?" I’d said my piece, there was nothing else to do but wait for her to reply. The seconds passed by slowly. "Darla?"

"He bet me that he could get your phone number," she blurted out at last. "You cost me five dollars." So, both Sam and I had been the victims of someone’s gamble. Sadly, we were both foolish enough to play along.

"Why, Darla, why?" I asked as I began to lose control. Were relationships always this difficult? Shouldn’t you just be able to trust someone implicitly? Did you always have to keep your guard up? I felt so damned sad.

"I’m sorry Joan. The whole thing was stupid. Still, Fred did like the way you played and sang. He told me that he’d love for you to be in his new band." Despite what had happened, the thought of getting together with some others to make music was appealing. Could I forget the circumstances that brought us together?

I’m still not sure why I forgave her indiscretion. I guess I was too wrapped up in the possibility of joining a "real" band. It was time I developed some interests of my own that weren’t money driven. I knew it would be a really bad idea to tell Sam that Fred was the one that had kissed me. Before Fred and I met again, some ground rules would have to be set in place. I wrapped up the phone call with Darla and told her that I’d call her tomorrow. Sam was coming back over just as I came down the stairs.

"Mom will be over in a few minutes," Sam announced as he made his way into the kitchen. So, there would be seven of us for dinner. I couldn’t remember seven of us ever sitting together at the table. Besides, the table only accommodated six. Mom and Aunt Melissa were busily preparing dinner. Sam and I began setting the table. I brought an extra chair in from the kitchen figuring that he and I could double up somehow.

Moments later, the front doorbell rang. It could only be cousin Melissa and her betrothed. I hesitated for a second before rushing to the front door. I was certain to get a repeat of last Thursday. Cousin Melissa, however, totally surprised me. She beamed at me and gave me a bone crushing hug. "Joan! You look fantastic," she said upon finally releasing me. Her greeting made me happier than I had any right to feel.

Dan, a few inches shorter than Sam himself was a handsome figure of a man. Sam seemed to stand just a wee bit straighter in his presence. Was there some unseen pissing contest going on here? I laughed at the silliness of it all. "Dan, this is my cousin Joan," Melissa said by way of introduction. I felt stupid about the whole thing. Obviously Aunt Melissa had explained everything to her before their arrival. "And you are?" She asked motioning towards Sam.

"Sam Peters" he replied. At this, a genuine gasp came from Melissa. She’d met Sam enough times to know who he was. "Hi Melissa," he said, "and you must be Dan?" Introductions made, I showed them into the dining room.

"I hope you two are hungry?" I asked.

"Er, I don’t know about anyone else, but I sure could use a drink." This from Dan. Sam decided to play host.

"Is a gin and tonic, OK?" he asked him.

"Sounds perfect to me." Sam went into the kitchen and made a pitcher full of them. He filled up all the rocks glasses with ice and began pouring the magic elixir. Without hesitation, he poured one for himself. He went to fill my glass, but I covered it with my hand before he could do so. I didn’t want to become tipsy among this crowd.

With festivities that rivaled a Thanksgiving dinner, the evening got underway. While everyone got in each other’s way in the kitchen I went out back with soda in hand and sat down to pet Shandy. I guessed there would be time for me to have one cigarette. For some reason, I felt that I needed it. Shandy was in playful mode and chased the tennis ball each and every time I tossed it to the farthest points of the yard. Mom always seemed happiest when the house was filled with people. Tonight was no exception. I finished my smoke in private, gave the dog a big hug and made my way back inside.

I took my place at the table scrunched up next to Sam and decided that everyone could wait on me for a change. In no time at all plates and bowls were being passed around the table. "Joan, I’ve got a bit of a problem," Cousin Melissa began. I looked at her expectantly and decided to wait her out. "Dan is short an usher for the wedding, I had been wondering if you could help out…" her voice trailed off. My face turned three shades of crimson. How could she even ask me that? Before I could utter a rejection, Sam interrupted me.

"I’d be happy to fill in, if you like?" he offered. My heart rate began to slow to normal range. I wrapped both arms around Sam’s own right and hugged him tight. I would have felt ridiculous, a fraud, attending her wedding wearing a tuxedo. I gazed up at Sam with stars in my eyes.

"Er, that would be wonderful Sammmm," Melissa began. Once again a member of my mother’s family was tempted to call my sweetheart "Samantha." Everyone began talking at once and it seemed that the matter was settled. I was beyond glad. I’d been planning on wearing my new pink dress to her wedding. Dinner passed without further incident. Aunt Melissa began staring at me when it was completed. I think she was trying to tell me in her own silent way that since I’d done nothing with regard to preparations, I should do the clean-up. When I rose and began clearing away the plates, she made no further look in my direction. I guessed that I was right on target.

Sam helped clear everything away. "I have to go to the bathroom" I lied and disappeared upstairs. I took out Fred’s number and found myself staring at the digits absentmindedly. Could I call him? What would I say? The possibility of joining a band overrode my feelings of trepidation.

"Fred, is that you?" I asked upon hearing someone pick up.

"Joan?" he asked.

"Ah, you remember! I believe you wanted to talk about the possibility of forming a band?" I asked seriously.

"Well, I certainly would love to discuss the possibility of us getting together," he replied. I cut him off immediately. That wasn’t going to happen.

"I’m sorry Fred, if that’s all you’re interested in, I’m sorry." I made my statement in total seriousness and with a certain finality.

"Now hold on a second sweetheart," he began.

"Fred, I’m not your sweetheart. Please don’t ever address me that way again." Hopefully, he was finally beginning to get the message. "So, what do you say? Would you like to get together and see what kind of music we could make together? And, I mean music, no funny business. In fact, you’ll have to promise me now that what happened last night was a one time thing and will never happen again. Deal, or no deal?" I asked and laughed.

The phone remained silent for just a bit too long. "Fred?" I asked again.

"You know Joan, this all started out as kind of a joke," he started. "Still, the idea has possibilities. Why don’t you come over Wednesday evening and we’ll see if you and I have any musical chemistry between us?" He gave me directions to his house. He lived about a mile away. It’s funny, but I’d never seen him around school before. Perhaps he was older than he looked? I guessed I’d find all that out on Wednesday evening.

"I’ll see you at 7:30 on Wednesday evening," I said and bade him goodbye. I made a quick trip to the little girl’s room and headed back downstairs. Sam was working like he was getting paid by the piece. My hero!

"Dan and Melissa want to know if we’d like to take a walk on the boardwalk with them. I told them I’d have to check with you," he said deferentially. I smiled at him, squeezed his hand and told him that would be just perfect. We said our goodbyes to the adults and walked the few blocks to my favorite place on earth. We climbed the ramp and began walking four abreast with Sam and Dan on the outer perimeter.

"So, how long have you known?" Melissa asked me. I didn’t need to ask for clarification. I knew she was talking about "Joan." I found myself wanting to reply "my whole life," but I wasn’t sure that would be an honest answer. In the end, upon reflection, I told her that Joan had always been a part of me. She smiled at me and squeezed my hand. "Who wants to ride the roller coaster?" she asked. Sam and I both attempted to beg off. "Come on you two, don’t be party poopers! My treat!" Money was part of it, but I really didn’t feel like riding the rides. Still, I saw Melissa so rarely and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen her during the summer. Soon the four of us found ourselves waiting in line for the ride to begin.

While waiting, Melissa asked if Sam and I had beaten them to the altar. I looked at her quizzically and she motioned to our wedding bands. "Your rings really are beautiful," she said. "I wish Dan and I had picked those out. I hope you two are using protection." I smiled knowingly at her and made no reply of any kind. For some reason her last comment struck me as being rather rude.

Dan seemed like a nice enough guy. A bit too quiet for my tastes though. Melissa seemed to lead him around by some invisible string attached to an equally invisible ring in his nose. He didn’t seem to mind it at all. He was a stockbroker with Merril Lynch. Melissa also was an account executive. It was a match made in financial heaven. She was only nine years older than us, but it seemed like a definite generation gap existed.

Melissa laughed and screamed throughout the entire ride. Her gaiety was infectious. Sam and I began laughing too. The best that Dan could muster was a smile. For someone so young, he seemed a bit too serious. "I’ve never been part of a wedding party before," Sam informed them. "You’ll have to tell me what to do."

"It’s really quite simple Sam," Melissa replied. "All you have to do is show up wearing a tuxedo and look handsome." Dan laughed aloud as if that was the funniest thing that he’d ever heard. I began to wonder about that guy. Sam and I did our best to chuckle along, not wanting to offend anyone. "Have you got a dress to wear to the wedding Joan? I assume you do intend to wear a dress?" I laughed aloud and told her I did in fact have the perfect wedding attire, but that she needn’t worry. I had no plans of looking prettier than the bride on her wedding day. She smiled and punched me in the shoulder; a bit too hard for my tastes. Maybe she thought I was being serious?

We walked around for a few hours. Melissa treated us all to a few more rides. I broke open my purse and bought us all ice cream. Overall, it had been a very pleasant evening. We got back home and the dining room was filled with smoke. No, the house wasn’t on fire. Just three ladies in their late thirties wrecking their lungs in concert. I put one fan in the living room window, and one blowing out in the dining room window and the air slowly began to clear. There were two empty gin bottles sitting in the middle of the table. The ladies had clearly been at it.

Sam and I went out back and sat quietly at the picnic table for a bit. Our arms wrapped around each other. Each of us lost in our own thoughts. He kissed me hard and promised me that I’d be the only one he’d be kissing from now on. I rubbed his hair playfully and repeated his promise to him.

Notes:

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Synopsis:

Joan has a bit of a rough time with Mom. She finally gets together with Fred. Tensions are stretched to the limit as Dr. Raspberry expresses her disapproval with Joan’s behavior.

Story:

Chapter 17

Go Your Own Way

I had a bit of a hard time getting to sleep on Sunday night. The ladies were up till the wee hours; drinking, smoking, and making far too much noise for me to rest peacefully. I doubted that Mom would make it to work this morning. I dragged my ass off the floor around seven and hit the shower. So many things I’d left undone on the weekend. The situation with the Whitcombs sent my brain into shut-down mode regarding scheduling new jobs for the week. I decided that I’d go and talk to Mr. Hospin when I was finished with work.

By eight o’clock I was ready to hit the road. I’d been dreading having to do this but, I knew I’d have to attempt to wake up Mom. There was simply no way to rouse her. I laughed to myself and was filled with even more dread as I contemplated my next task. I was going to have to call my mother out "sick." Could I do this? I tentatively dialed her work contact number. Thank God, an automated service picked up asking for the name and the nature of the absence.

I laid it on as best I could. "This is Joan Johnson, my mother Clara Johnson will not be in to work today. She was up all night with fever and vomiting. She only fell asleep about an hour ago. I’m sure that she’ll be in on Tuesday, thank you." I wrote down the contents of my message and left two copies; one on top of mom’s phone and the other taped to the coffee machine. I was pretty sure it would be fine. Mom had never pulled a stunt like this before. I gathered up my lunch and made my way to work.

I’d figured out something about manual labor. I could keep my mind occupied with other things and the time seemed to pass with ease. Every time I came across Paul he seemed to be grinning at me stupidly. When he started acting like that, I’d tune him out as best I could. I already had more problems than I could handle. Sometimes the way people stared at me, well, it made me feel like a piece of meat; not a good way to feel at all. I almost got confrontational with him, but in the end, I turned on the power sander and simply ignored him.

Finally, the work day ended. I really wanted to go to the paint store but figured I’d better stop home first and make sure everything was all right. I hoped that Mom’s behavior wasn’t something that would recur with any frequency. I simply couldn’t handle that. I walked into a silent house. Mom’s car was in the garage. Could they still be sleeping? It was almost three o’clock in the afternoon!

My worry grew exponentially as I ascended the stairs. The bedroom doors were closed. I knocked gently on my mother’s door and walked in. "Mom?" I said gently as I shook her awake. "Are you OK?" For the briefest of moments, I thought she was dead. I had no idea it was possible to encounter so many thoughts simultaneously. At last she stirred and my tears began to flow.

"Go Away!" She commanded.

"Mom, it’s three o’clock on a Monday afternoon. You have to get up!" I shouldn’t be having to deal with situations like these. What if my father ever found out? A picture of myself wearing a military uniform and saying, "Sir, yes Sir!" flashed before my eyes. I left her room, went down stairs, and put a fresh pot of coffee on. My fear had turned to anger. I carried the tray into her room, raised her shades and started screaming at her to get the hell up!

Was this part of the price to pay to have Aunt Melissa around? If it was, she could go back to Australia. I’d take her to the airport on my bicycle if necessary. I kept talking loudly and stomped around the room. Slowly, ever so slowly, she shook herself awake. "What time is it? What day is it?" She asked helplessly. I told her. I also filled her in on having called her out sick. It was time for me to repeat the routine with Aunt Mel. She actually laughed at me as she came to. I swore if they ever tried something like this again that I’d raise the roof before it could get off the ground.

With the ladies finally stirring, I finally got on my bike and pedaled down to the paint store. After what I’d just been through, this should be a piece of cake. I took a moment to compose myself before entering. "Good afternoon Mr. Hospin," I said as cheerily as I could.

"Joan!" He exclaimed as he came running over to me.

"I wanted to talk to you about Mrs. Whitcomb," I began. He let me tell my story from start to finish without interrupting. He actually smiled at me when I finished. He put his arm around my shoulder, told me not to worry about it, and said finally that he should have warned me about her. Apparently, in his estimation, the woman was nuts. I laughed with him in total agreement. Maybe the situation wasn’t as bad as I’d thought?

He talked to me for a bit, gave me some more names to call, and told me that I was doing a fine job. Once again he told me not to worry about it. I left there feeling a helluva lot better about the whole situation. It was time to go home and deal with the two elderly miscreants. Mom and Aunt Melissa were both seated at the kitchen table when I arrived. In their housecoats they looked like they’d awakened too early rather than in the late afternoon. I shook my head in disgust at the both of them and began putting the house back together. It was after six by the time I decided to call it a day.

If the ladies wanted dinner, they’d have to make it for themselves. I cleaned myself up and headed for the boardwalk. My mouth began watering as I thought about pizza. In fact, I broke out in a stupid grin and a bit of drool began rolling down my chin. I must have looked quite the idiot. A new job for me? Village Idiot wanted, experience preferred but will train the right candidate. Such thoughts kept me laughing insanely as I made my way to Fratelli’s.

As much as I hated to, I went back home when I was finished. I needed to make some calls and set up some appointments. Wednesday was out; band practice with Fred. Thursday was out; therapy with Aunt Viv. I was going to have to start doing my painting on the weekends exclusively.

It turned out that Mr. Hospin was right, and he was wrong. A few potential customers called me some ugly names before hanging up on me. My eyes filled with tears and my voice cracked, but I was determined to continue. By the time I had finished, I actually lined up four jobs for the week: two on Friday and two on Saturday. Sam had an away game and besides, I wasn’t so sure I was going to attend those anymore anyway.

Hell, I went to cheer him on and he ditches me when the game’s over? I wasn’t that desperate for anyone’s attention. OK, so maybe I was over-reacting a bit. He had a right to his own friends, blah blah blah! With my appointments made, I decided that I couldn’t ignore the rest of the house forever. It was after eight o’clock when I walked into the kitchen. Mom and Aunt Melissa were still seated at the kitchen table and still wearing their housecoats. Remnants of breakfast were everywhere. They even managed to polish off the cheesecake.

I attempted to speak to them a few times, but found I was still too angry to carry on a conversation with either of them. I went up to my room and spent some time on my computer. I checked out a few more transgendered web sites and wrote a few emails. There was one very disturbing email from Doreen. I almost fell off my chair as I continued reading it.

It seemed Dad and Doreen were coming up for Melissa’s wedding. Who the hell invited them? "Aunt Melissa!" I screamed as I ran down the stairs. "Who invited my father and his girlfriend to my cousin’s wedding?" This couldn’t be happening, could it?

"Relax Joan. Your mother and I talked it over and decided that it would be for the best." The best for whom? Why would Mom want him there? This made no sense to me at all. I sputtered onward with my objections but they just pooh-poohed them all. Could I attend the wedding wearing my pink dress with my father and Doreen there? Yes, I wanted to see my sister when she was born, but I still had a fair amount of anger pent-up from the whole situation.

As ten P.M. neared, I bade them goodnight. I also informed my mother that I’d never again call her out sick. Incredulously, they both laughed at me. Did they think it was all a joke? I wasn’t ready to be my mother’s mother. I started to think that Mom could probably use a few sessions with Aunt Vivian herself. No, I wasn’t being vindictive. I was genuinely worried for her. Obviously Aunt Melissa and Aunt Alice weren’t being any help at all.

Tuesday passed in a blur. Thankfully, all seemed to return to normal. Aunt Mel told me not to worry about dinner that she had it all under control. Sam came over for a bit and we went for a walk on the boards. I just knew in my heart that there was nowhere else on the planet that I’d rather live. That thought struck me as funny. A lot of kids can’t wait to grow up and get away. Well, I didn’t mean I wanted to live with Mom for the rest of my life. I shuddered involuntarily at the thought.

I arrived home from work on Wednesday and Aunt Melissa was busily performing my chores. She smiled at me and told me that she’d do everything except the laundry for the length of her stay. I told her if she needed any help starting the lawn mower to just let me know. She laughed at that.

My stomach began to churn with excitement at dinner’s end. Soon I would be at Fred’s. I began to have doubts regarding my own motivations. Was I simply interested in the music or, did he hold some other fascination for me? Thinking of that possibility filled me with worry. For some reason I brought my ring up to my lips and kissed it. It was one of the strangest things I’d ever done. I put my guitar in its case, and told Mom where I was heading. I didn’t even bother to ask for permission. Still, I did leave her Fred’s name and number if she needed to contact me. Besides, I had my cell phone with me as well.

I still wasn’t sure what I expected from this meeting. I’d never played (music) with anyone before. Five minutes later I was knocking on his front door. "Joan! You came!" He said upon answering. For some reason I found myself smiling at him. He invited me in and we made our way to his basement. "Would you like something to drink?" He asked me as he opened a beer for himself. How old is this guy, I began to wonder?

"How come I’ve never seen you around school?" I asked him.

"Oh, do you go to Ocean High? I just graduated myself!" Holy Jesus, I had no idea he was that old. He didn’t appear to be any older than I was. Where the hell did Darla know this guy from? Darla: I was going to call her on Monday. I began thinking that I needed to slow my life down a bit.

He began showing me his equipment. The kid had everything, and I do mean everything. A complete P.A. system, plenty of amplifiers, guitars lined the walls, keyboards, and even a drum kit! "Is all of this stuff yours?" I asked him. He laughed at my question and simply told me that music was his life. "Nice life," I thought to myself. I decided that before we went any further that I’d have to clear the air.

"Fred, I’m only fourteen. In fact, I just turned fourteen a few weeks ago." He eyed me curiously and remained silent. I waited expectantly for him to say something.

"Does that mean you don’t want to be in my band?" he asked. I laughed and told him I figured it would be the other way around. "Joan, all I care about is your talent. Your age is of no importance at this point in time." I couldn’t help myself; I found myself smiling at him. "You needn’t have brought your guitar," he said as he removed a Martin D1 with Fischman electronics from its case. "Here, try this out," he said handing me the guitar.

I’d never played any instrument but my own to that point. I took the guitar from him gingerly. It was simply beautiful. The action on the neck was unbelievable. I’d heard that electric guitars were easier to play, but this was ridiculous. I had no idea that an acoustic guitar could be this perfect. I began strumming a few chords and began playing a basic blues progression in the key of E. He plugged the guitar in, turned on the amp and smiled at me as I continued to wail away.

Fred selected a bass for himself and joined in. I couldn’t believe that we were perfectly in tune. His simple bass pattern meshed perfectly with my chords. He began singing into the microphone. I was able to follow his lead and we continued on. I had no idea that anything could be this much fun. We wrapped up the tune and I found myself asking him just how much a guitar like the one I was playing would cost.

"Brand new with the pickup and the case it would probably run close to a grand, retail," He said matter of factly. "But, if you really like this one, I could let you have it for $500.00." I held the guitar possessively and seriously considered this extravagant purchase. Should I simply take him at his word as to its value? Was he simply offering me the deal of the century? I sat on a bar stool and began running my hand up and down the neck. It almost seemed to play itself.

"Could I take it home to show my Mom?" I asked.

"Wellllll, I don’t know? Hell, I don’t even know where you live. Still, if you’re a friend of Darla’s, you must be OK. She thinks the world of you, by the way." He began telling me of his ideas for a band. He told me he was really impressed with my playing and singing. He went on to say that most females in bands didn’t play their own instruments. We fooled around for awhile and we worked on a few songs.

I found myself getting nervous whenever he got too close to me. It was closing in on nine thirty when I told him I had to be headed home. He looked at me like I was nuts. I was half tempted to ask him for a ride home, but didn’t want to seem like a baby. I packed his guitar in my soft case; there was no way to carry the hard shell case safely on my bike. Just before leaving, he handed me a Fleetwood Mac album. He then made a list of the songs he wanted me to learn: "Go Your Own Way" topped the list.

We said goodnight. I could tell that he wanted to kiss me. It freaked me out just a bit. Not only was he a guy, he was an older guy. I left him in the basement playing one of his many guitars and slowly pedaled back home. I was half-way there when my cell phone started ringing. I figured it was Mom calling me and didn’t stop to answer it. Minutes later, I pulled in the driveway.

"Mom, I’m home!" I yelled as I came in the front door.

"Just where the hell have you been, young lady?" What the hell was she talking about? I told her where I was going. "Your Aunt Vivian called and started telling me all about this Fred fellow." Oh hell, now what? I cut her off before she could continue.

"Mom, I don’t know what she told you, but I do know that Fred’s a really nice guy. He’s asked me to join his band! And look!" I said and carefully removed the guitar from the case. "He’s giving me a great deal on this fine instrument."

"You already have a guitar. Where’s yours?" I sighed. This wasn’t going well at all. I sat down at the kitchen table and began playing it for her. The richness and depth of tone slowly began to win her over. She slowly melted as I continued my soulful finger picking. "And just how much does this Fred want for that thing?" She asked. I smiled at her. I could tell she was warming to the idea.

"Mom, do you have any idea how much a fine instrument like this costs?" I asked setting her up for the kill. She sat there silently, waiting for me to continue. "Mom, a new guitar of this caliber goes for over a thousand dollars brand new," I finished.

"A thousand dollars! Have you lost your mind?" Aunt Melissa stood off on the sidelines and smiled devilishly at the brewing storm.

"Mom, it’s a professional guitar. And, it’s electric! If I’m going to join a band, I can’t do it with my old guitar. But, that’s not the best part. Fred told me he’d sell me this one, with the hard shell case, for only five hundred dollars." I waited patiently for her to say something. I knew if push came to shove that I could simply pay for it on my own. The fit and finish on the instrument were perfect. I doubted that Fred had ever even played it.

"I’ll pay for half of it," she said finally. Aunt Melissa clapped her hands together gleefully. For two hundred and fifty dollars, I wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass me by. I placed the guitar back in the case and gave Mom the biggest hug possible. I asked Aunt Mel if I could use the computer in my room for a bit. She said of course, that it was my room after all. Minutes later I found myself searching for similar guitars on ebay. Fred hadn’t been lying. I found two of them exactly like "mine" WITHOUT the pickup and the owners wanted seven hundred dollars for them. Even more amazing, a few people had bid on them.

It was after ten, but I was so excited that I gave Fred a call and told him that I’d take the guitar. We made arrangements to get together on Sunday. I took the guitar stand from my bedroom and brought it downstairs with me to the sewing room. If I didn’t think I’d damage it, I’d have slept with the damned thing. This was as close to a feeling of love that one could have for an inanimate object. I carefully wiped down the neck. There was no way that I’d be playing this thing while sitting on the beach. I fell asleep staring at my new baby.

Thursday morning arrived and I greeted the new day with a smile. I found myself actually looking forward to this evening’s meeting with Aunt Vivian. Maybe she could tell me a bit more about Fred? I ate my breakfast, made my lunch and headed off to work. Once again, the day passed quickly. Mr. Ferris showed me how to properly apply the varnish to my stained work. The feelings of accomplishment that it provided filled me with joy. I spent an hour at day’s end finishing up Aunt Vivian’s jewelry box

I walked in my front door just as the clock struck four. There’d be no deposit made at the bank this week, I thought sadly. I found myself thinking of ways to spend even more money. Perhaps Fred had a small amplifier that he’d like to sell too? I told myself to slow down with such thoughts. If/when the time came, I’d worry about it.

Something delicious was cooking on the stove. Well, it smelled delicious anyway. I tapped Aunt Melissa on the shoulder as she busied herself with preparations and hugged her tight when she turned around. "Thank you," was all I said.

"What are you thanking me for? You haven’t even tasted it yet." We shared a secret smile and I asked her if there was anything I could do to help. I made the salad while she finished cooking the main meal. Mom arrived home and we ate dinner. It tasted as good as it smelled.

Mom dropped me off in front of Aunt Viv’s and told me she’d be back in an hour. I was somewhat nervous as I rang the front doorbell. Darla answered and seemed a bit annoyed. "Mom, your seven-thirty’s here." She announced to no one. I guessed that I’d been a "bad" friend.

"Darla, what’s the matter?" I asked her.

"Nothing" She replied and turned sulkily away. I tried calling after her but she just kept on walking. I stood in the foyer alone: waiting and feeling somewhat the fool. After awhile Aunt Vivian came and collected me. She invited me into the kitchen and poured me a cup of coffee without asking. The sight of the black liquid made me realize that I hadn’t had a cigarette all day. I sheepishly removed one from my purse and lighted it.

"So, Aunt Viv," I began. "What can you tell me about Fred?"

"Nothing, I’m afraid. I never discuss my patients with anyone." That comment knocked me for a loop. Fred had been (or was) her patient? So that’s how Darla knew him? "If there was any need to worry, I’d have told your mother," she said perfunctorily. Had I pissed her off too, somehow? This wasn’t the warm, loving, understanding person that I’d come to know and love.

"Aunt Vivian, what’s wrong?" I asked as tears began forming in my eyes.

"I’m sorry Joan. Sometimes it’s hard for me to separate my personal from my professional life. You’ve really hurt Darla and she refuses to discuss it."

"Maybe I could go talk to her before we begin my session?" I begged.

"I think maybe you ought to find yourself a new therapist. There are many who are qualified to handle a case such as your own." I was crushed. I crumbled onto the table. My cup fell to the floor and shattered. She simply sat there and stared at me stonily. I just had to get out of there. I ran for the front door and made my exit. She didn’t try and stop me.

I cried all the way home. I went into the sewing room and closed the door behind me. I thought about ringing Mom and telling her there would be no need to pick me up. I was devastated. The guitar called to me like a friend. I picked it up and began playing a soulful tune. The music eased my sorrow. Had what just happened, really happened? Was I hallucinating? How could she… My thoughts drifted off.

Somewhere around ten o’clock Mom came home. "Joan, come here sweetheart," she called to me from the kitchen. I wiped down my guitar and slowly made my way into her inner sanctum. "I had a long talk with your Aunt Vivian," she informed me.

"She’s no Aunt of mine," I replied in anger. The tears began flowing yet again.

"Joan, she’s beyond sorry for what she did. She wanted to run after you as you were leaving, but found herself unable to move. She hopes that you can find it in your heart to forgive her." Just then, the phone rang. Grateful for the distraction, I picked it up.

"Joan, I’m so sorry," Aunt Vivian cried sadly into the phone. "Nothing like that has ever happened to me before. Can you please just give me another chance? I promise you it’ll never happen again." Before I could say anything she went on "It’s just that you had Darla so upset and then hooking up with Fred, it was all just more than I could handle. Please forgive me?" She begged.

I sat there holding the phone, knowing in my heart that my countenance couldn’t be distinguished from any on Mt. Rushmore. Finally, I began weeping openly. "Aunt Vivian, I’m not sure just what I’ve done, but whatever it is, I’m so sorry."

"No sweetheart, it’s all my fault. It’s just that I love you as if you were my own. I’ll do my best to make it up to you, if only you’ll give me another chance," she wailed. We both sat there crying into to the phone for what seemed like eternity. I promised that I’d call her soon and softly put the phone back in its cradle. I learned a valuable lesson that evening. Aunt Vivian may indeed be a licensed psychotherapist, but she was first and foremost Darla’s mother…

Notes:

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Synopsis:

Joan becomes more serious about her new job.. Darla pesters her till she agrees to call Fred and ask if Darla can come with her for Sunday’s practice session. Finally, she’s stricken numb when she catches Sam in a lie...

Story:

Chapter 18

Edge of Seventeen

Friday morning I awoke in a fog. I ate some cereal, let the dog out, and finished up with a cup of coffee. It was time to get to work. I really didn’t feel like doing anything that morning. Still, I was far too responsible to simply let the jobs slide. Besides, I knew that I’d snap out of it sooner or later. With my sandwich tucked safely inside my shoulder bag, I was off.

I was done at the Barnes’ home almost before I began. At least, it felt that way. Mrs. Barnes seemed beyond happy with my work. She asked me for one of my business cards. She let it slip that she’d heard some unflattering rumors about me. I thanked her for her kind words and told her I’d get her some business cards just as soon as I got them back from the printer. Truth be told, I hadn’t even considered business cards till she mentioned them. Three more painting jobs and I’d have (almost) all the money I needed for my new baby.

I found myself wondering whether there were any "strings attached" to the instrument (ha ha). Why had he agreed to sell it to me so cheaply? I put such thoughts aside, deciding it didn’t matter what his rationale was for parting with this precious instrument. I was only a few blocks from the boardwalk so I pedaled over and ate my lunch while sitting on a bench and staring out to sea.

I arrived at the Wilpons’ just before one o’clock. The maid let me in when I explained why I was there. Her "English" was very limited. I waited in the foyer for one of the owners to appear. Mr. Wilpon was a big man. He eyed me suspiciously when I explained to him that I was Joan Johnson, the painter. I could almost hear his thoughts: "but you’re a girl…" I assured him that I was quite experienced and would provide him with references if need be. Sometimes a bit of bluster gets the job done. He showed me the family room, pointed me in the direction of all the equipment I’d be needing and eyed me doubtfully as I began to set the scene.

After he saw how carefully I handled their belongings and the extra mile I went in covering everything up, he finally left me alone to do my work. Not before shaking his head vehemently from side to side though. I almost felt like laughing, but I just wanted to get the job finished and go home. A little over two hours later I was in clean-up mode. I was getting faster at this. Upon inspecting the job when I was finished, Mr. Wilpon handed me eighty dollars. I tried to hand a twenty back to him, but he wouldn’t take it. I thanked him profusely and made my way home: my first tip!

Aunt Melissa was puttering around the kitchen when I came in the front door. She had some kind of roast cooking in the oven. If nothing else, I was going to miss her cooking when she was gone. I went out in the back yard and played with Shandy till she’d had enough. It was then that I did what I’d really wanted to from the beginning. I ran into the sewing room and retrieved my new Martin. God, I just loved this guitar. Practicing on it was a joy, not a chore. An hour later I decided it was time to get some real chores done.

I figured I’d spend the evening listening to Fleetwood Mac and checking out the internet to see if I couldn’t find the chords for some of the songs Fred had chosen. Generally, I could figure them out just by listening to them, but not always. I went through my mental checklist of tasks to be completed and found that the only job left undone was laundry. I filled up the baskets and carried everything down to the basement. When I considered some of the homes that I’d been in, and the amount of "stuff" that Fred had, I began to realize just how modest my own situation was. For a very brief moment my mind flashed to New Jersey. That just made me sad and angry.

"You’re pretty good on that guitar," said Aunt Melissa. "Have you been playing for a long time?" I told her my whole history with the instrument. She went on to say that she wished she’d learned how to play when she was younger. Of course, I offered to teach her. At first, she shook her head and dismissed the idea as impossible, then she began to come around. "Do you really think you could?" she asked me. I smiled at her and told her we could start after dinner. The whole conversation seemed to put just a bit of bounce in her step.

As if on cue, Sam came walking in the front door at five minutes to six. He looked at me oddly when he saw that the table was set for four. "Are you having company?" he asked me.

"Yeah, You!" I told him and began laughing. Seeing that nothing needed to be done, he actually offered to help out. Was I becoming a cynic in my old age? Hell, his constant dining here had to be putting a bit of a strain on the old food budget. That however, wasn’t my problem. Sam did his drink mixing routine and yes, glommed one for himself before sitting down at the table. I stuck with my diet coke, as usual. I was dying for a smoke, but it didn’t seem right to foul the air in a room that smelled as good as our kitchen did. I ran into the backyard and puffed away for a few minutes.

Sam stayed in the kitchen and chatted with Aunt Mel. I sat at the picnic table thinking of all the things I had to do: learn three new songs, paint two rooms, go back to Fred’s and pay for my new guitar. I almost forgot, again, one of the most important things I had to do. I had to call Darla. That could wait until Sam went home.

Mom arrived on time and helped her sister serve up the food. The beef tasted better than anything I’d ever had in a restaurant. It was almost a religious experience. The candied carrots, the steamed broccoli and cheese, everything was just perfect. OK, so I understood why Sam dined over here as often as possible. I wanted to ask why they’d decided to invite Dad to the wedding, but didn’t want to start any wars at the dinner table. Maybe I could ask Mom later when I got her alone.

Sam asked me if I wanted to go to the game with him on Saturday. It was all the way up in Ulster County. They’d be leaving at nine o’clock to get there in time for the one o’clock start. I asked him why I should go if he wasn’t even pitching. He smiled at us all. "Just because I’m not pitching, doesn’t mean I’m not playing. Coach decided that my bat is too important to the team, so on the days I’m not pitching, I’ll be playing right field."

I didn’t have the heart to tell him that they always put the worst player out in right. Then again, he probably knew that already anyway. Mom and Aunt Mel "oohed and ahhed" over his news. Was I feeling jealous over his accomplishments? I didn’t want to be "that kind" of person. I told myself that I’d become queen of my own realm. Music was it for me. I’d leave baseball for the boys.

I was starting to get spoiled. I found myself feeling cranky when dinner was over and I had to cleanup. I made sure that Sam assisted me. Hell, you eat, you work, simple as that. Between the two of us we had it all in order in just over half an hour. Aunt Mel even wrapped up the leftovers and put them away. When all was as it should be, Aunt Melissa told me she was ready for her lesson.

Everyone went and sat in the living room. I retrieved the guitar from the sewing room. "You got a Martin!" Sam exclaimed. I had no idea he knew what a Martin was. "I’ve always wanted to learn how to play," Sam added. It seemed everything I did was turning into a job.

"Well, you should join us then," said Aunt Melissa. Could I teach them both at once? Hell, could I even teach them one-on-one? I began with the open strings. Once I was reasonably sure they had them down, I talked a bit about music theory. I wasn’t a whiz at it, but I knew enough to teach more than the basics. I explained that a major chord is composed of the root (base note) the third, and the fifth. I then asked Aunt Melissa what notes were in a C chord.

We sat there counting out notes on our fingers. C - E (the third), and G (the fifth). I then demonstrated the most basic of all C chords using the first three strings. The only string that needed to be fretted was the second string at the first fret. I went on to teach them the C scale. The easiest of all to remember, no sharps, and no flats. They both seemed anxious to play rather than just hear me rambling on. They took turns and cheered each other on as they slowly but surely perfected a simple C chord.

To end the evening I played one of the most basic (of all sad song) chord progressions. The good old 1 - 6 - 4 - 5. They seemed curiously amazed and happily surprised when I finished. I knew I’d be bringing my old instrument home from Fred’s on Sunday for them to practice on. I walked Sam home and we kissed and cuddled on his front steps for a bit. He asked again if I wanted to go to the game tomorrow. I told him I was sorry but I had two painting jobs to tend to. Besides, before I went to another game, he and I had to have a little talk. I left with him promising to call me tomorrow around six.

Aunt Melissa wanted more instruction when I got home. I went over a few more things with her. I showed her how to figure out what notes were in a chord even if she wasn’t sure exactly what they were (sharps and flats wise.) She really was a fast learner. I said goodnight to Mom and Aunt Melissa and then I remembered: I was supposed to call Darla. It was close to ten o’clock but I took a chance anyway and dialed her number.

"Darla? It’s Joan" I said when I heard her voice over the phone. "Are we OK? I’m really sorry about what happened," I said and waited to see if she’d provide me with clarification about exactly what I’d done wrong.

"So, you finally found time to fit me into your busy schedule. I suppose I should be grateful that you bothered to call," she said with a bit of vehemence in her voice. At least now I had a better handle on what she was upset about. I was supposed to call her last Monday and never did. Whoops!

"Darla, I’m really sorry. I’ve just been so busy that most times I don’t know whether I’m coming or going. Between the two jobs, I’m working close to forty hours a week. You’ve been such a wonderful friend. I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?" I could almost hear the wheels in her brain turning as the seconds ticked by.

"You could bring me with you to Fred’s on Sunday," she stated finally. How did she even know about that? I guessed that she and Fred were closer than I’d imagined. I was willing to do whatever I could to make her happy. Still, I had no idea how Fred would react to her tagging along. And, what about Aunt Vivian? I sighed audibly, unsure of what to say next.

"Darla, I’m not sure how Fred would feel about that. Let me call him tomorrow and ask if it’s OK?" I felt that this was a reasonable response to a not so reasonable request. "I’ll do my best to make it happen," I assured her. I found myself wondering why Darla wanted to attend at all. I’d think it would be kind of boring to just sit and watch people struggling in their attempt to play a song. Still, if that’s what she wanted.

"Just make it happen Joan," was all she said. Now I felt like she was ordering me around. If she wanted my help, that clearly wasn’t the way to obtain it. Was Darla, the man hater, interested in Fred? I wished it was earlier so I could find out just what she was so upset about.

"Again Darl, I’ll do my best. And, if you ever want to talk, you know my phone number. In fact, let me give you my cell phone number. Just remember that it’s pay as you go, so don’t call me on that line just to chat." I gave her my number and she calmed down considerably. It was closing in on eleven by the time we finished our conversation. I never even had a chance to listen to the CD. There wouldn’t be any band for me to worry about if I didn’t learn those songs post haste.

Saturday morning’s job was a cakewalk. I almost felt guilty when Mrs. Koontz handed me the sixty dollars. Sixty bucks to paint a bathroom? I guessed that some people had money they didn’t know what to do with. She hugged me close and thanked me for doing such a wonderful job. She too asked me for some business cards. I was going to have to look into that at my first opportunity.

I wasn’t really hungry, but I knew better than to start my second job without eating first. I found it strange that I was having to "force down" a roast beef sandwich. The same meat that I’d been drooling over the night before. I finished it quickly, only because I didn’t want to think about eating. It wasn’t even noon when I arrived at the Gatz home.

Mr. James Gatz, like my own father, had a mansion right on the beach. I fought off the temptation to hate him before I even met him; it wasn’t easy. A tall, lean, somber gentleman in his mid-forties (I’d guess) greeted me at the front door. At first I thought he was a servant, then I realized that a servant would never be dressed as he was. A pair of ragged cutoffs and a well worn polo shirt completed the picture. He made a feeble attempt to smile at me when I introduced myself. "I don’t think this is the job for you," he said after studying me carefully for several seconds. If he wanted to get me fired up, he knew exactly how to do it.

"Please, Mr. Gatz, just show me what it is you want done." I replied and began following him into the back of the house. We arrived in the huge great room that required painting. My jaw dropped a bit as I took it all in. The room was at least twenty-five feet square and the ceiling had to be twenty feet high. I found myself laughing involuntarily. "You didn’t expect this to be painted for sixty dollars, did you?" I asked in total seriousness, but the smile wouldn’t leave my face. It just seemed so absurd.

Well, it certainly would be a challenge. Still, there was a ton of ladder work required. I didn’t even own any ladders that would be of use here. Even if he paid me three hundred for the job, it still might not be enough. Somehow my pride took over and I found myself asking him just how soon he needed the job done. I explained, unnecessarily I hoped, that there was no way that I could complete a job that big in one day. He told me he was having a large party next weekend and any time before Friday would be fine with him. Well, I was pretty sure I could get the job done by then. It turned out that he had appropriate ladders in the garage left by the previous owner.

As far as I was concerned, it all came down to money; well, money and pride. If you wanted me to get the job done, just tell me I couldn’t do it. We both stood there silently. He with his hand on his chin and me with my hands in my pockets. "Well, Mr. Gatz, I can do the job. A first-rate roller job, not the spray job that a lot of so-called professional painters will give you. Still, a job of this magnitude is going to take me quite a bit of time and I don’t see how I could possibly do it for less than three hundred dollars." Even as I said it, I wasn’t so sure that I wanted the damned job. Maybe I was biting off more than I could chew? Still, the next words out of my mouth were: "shall I begin?"

He eyed me curiously and his eyes began dancing about. The upturned corners of his mouth suggested he was about to reply in the affirmative. At last, he spoke. "You know Ms. Johnson, I have had several contractors in here to assess this job. The cheapest one wanted twice what you’re willing to do it for. Why don’t you get started on the ceiling and I’ll make my final decision when you’ve finished it. At the very least I’ll pay you for your time."

Six hours later, I finished painting the ceiling. My back was sore, my arms were heavy, and I had a hard time keeping my eyes open. I was exhausted. Mr. Gatz beckoned me into the kitchen. He poured me a cup of coffee and went off to examine my work. He was back five minutes later and sat down across from me. "Mr. Hospin was right about you --- you do excellent work." I beamed at him and waited for him to continue. "Here’s the deal. Finish the room by Wednesday and I’ll pay you four hundred dollars total for the job."

I reasoned that the hardest part of the job was already done. Sure, I’d have to climb the ladders to do all the cutting in along the ceiling, but I knew there were extension poles that I could get for the rollers that would make the job a lot easier. I smiled at him and shook his hand. "It’s a deal," I said. I then began remembering my promise to have a contract drafted. Before I could become consumed by those thoughts, he pulled out his wallet, removed two crisp hundred dollar bills, and handed them to me. I accepted them graciously. We made arrangements for me to continue on Monday afternoon. With the money in my purse, I felt lighter somehow. I pedaled home as if in a dream.

Mom and Aunt Melissa were waiting for me by the front door when I got home. The look on their faces spelled "trouble." I knew I was late, but she could have called me if she’d been worried about me. I was too tired to consider the consequences and told her as much. She turned purple as she told me that she’d called me three times and I hadn’t picked up. So, it was my fault; whoops! She went on to say that I’d better get my voice mail set up and soon. Of course, she added the dire consequences to me bit should it ever happen again. I was so glad that Aunt Melissa was there. If she hadn’t been, Mom would have been a complete basket case.

I was exhausted and hungry, but I had several phone calls to make before I could do anything else. I dragged my tired ass into the kitchen and poured myself a cup of coffee. Another benefit of Aunt Mel’s presence; there was always fresh coffee available. I lighted a cigarette and dialed Fred’s number. It took a long time for him to pick up. "Fred?" I asked as I heard it answered.

"Yeah Joan, it’s me. What can I do for you?" How the hell did I ask him this? I was too numb to care.

"Fred would it be alright if Darla came with me tomorrow?" Better to just get it out there. He laughed before replying.

"Darla?! Sure, I guess that would be OK, but just Darla. I don’t want her bringing that skanky friend of hers over here." He’d lost me for a moment. Then, I realized he was talking about Sarah. I didn’t get along with her at all, but I was annoyed with myself when I heard the laughter emitted from my own mouth.

"No worries Fred, just Darla," I said not letting on that I knew exactly who he was talking about. He asked me if I’d learned any of the songs. What else could I do; I lied. We made arrangements to meet tomorrow at two. I hung up the phone and continued with my task. Next up: Darla.

"Hi Darl!" I exclaimed when she picked up. "So, how are we going to get over to Fred’s tomorrow?" I had to ask. She began giggling excitedly in the background. I really wondered what was going on in her mind, but I was too tired to ask. She told me to hang on for a minute and ran off to speak to her mother. Aunt Vivian agreed to drive us both ways. I’d find out later that she wanted to speak to Fred before leaving us alone with him. Our conversation wound down and we said goodnight.

I looked over the missed messages on my cell phone. I was wondering if Sam had tried to call me on it. Had I even given him my number? I thought I had, but I wasn’t sure. There was just too much going on in my life these days. I laughed aloud at the thought of a September school assignment: "How I spent my summer vacation," by Joan Johnson. The only three calls I’d missed had been the ones from Mom.

Rather than feeling sad that he hadn’t called, I was glad that I’d have some ammunition to use against him if he got testy with me. I really was tired. Then, out of nowhere, I began to get worried. What if something had happened to him and he’d been unable to call? I shook my head as I contemplated my delirium. I dialed the number: "Sam! You’re all right! Why didn’t you call me?" I battered him verbally as soon as he picked up and almost felt guilty about it.

"I’m sorry Joan, I forgot," he said miserably. He went on to tell me his sad story. Though the Waves remained undefeated, it seemed that Sam hadn’t. He’d pulled a leg muscle trying to stretch a single into a double in the first inning. I was so tired myself that I almost suggested we not get together at all for the evening. It turned out I needn’t have worried. Sam wouldn’t be going anywhere for a few days. The doctor that had examined him confined him to bed for the next little while. Now, I definitely felt guilty. We said our goodbyes and I promised to call him tomorrow.

Of course, guilt can be a great motivator. As I stood in the shower washing away the cares of the day I began to form a plan. I’d get cleaned up and bring him a pizza. Hell, I was starving myself. I didn’t dare contemplate asking Mom if there was anything to eat. I donned my green skort set and sneakers, announced my departure, and off I went; quickly before any objections could be made.

I was beginning to get used to guys staring at me all the time. The look I got from most girls my age anymore could only be described as feral. It was a strange new world and I finally found myself fitting into it. Half an hour later I was knocking on Sam’s front door with a pizza box in hand. Aunt Alice answered the door. "Your pizza has arrived!" I exclaimed as I practically pushed my way past her. "Do you have anything to drink?" I asked as I made my way into the kitchen and began gathering up plates.

"Joan, what are you doing here?" She asked me. "Sam’s not home," she finished.

"Oh!" was all I could think to say as I nearly dropped the plates on the floor. He lied to me. I couldn’t believe it. Why? I picked up the still warm box and managed to ask if he was OK. Aunt Alice explained that he had indeed taken a spill that afternoon, but that he was absolutely fine. I apologized for barging in, and slowly made my way across the street. What the hell was going on?

I put the pizza on the kitchen table grabbed a coke and sat there staring absentmindedly at the slice in front of me as it struggled to reach room temperature. Neither Mom nor Aunt Mel were anywhere in evidence. I finally found a message from Mom taped to the telephone. They’d gone out for the evening, but wouldn’t be home too late.

I wrapped up the pie and put the slices in the freezer. Maybe someday I’d feel like eating again. I wasn’t sure what made my belly ache more; physical hunger, or emotional pain. I laid down on the floor in the sewing room and fell asleep with the headphones on while listening to Stevie Nicks as she began singing: "Just like the white winged dove…"

Chapter 19

Dreams

I was awakened by the phone ringing. It was somewhere around one a.m. "Now what?" I thought to myself as I dragged my ass off the floor and into the kitchen to answer it. Would Mom be calling me this late? I had no idea. I picked up the receiver and tried to shake myself awake.

"Joan, you have to listen to me!" It was Sam. Why did I have to listen to him, the lying bastard! "Don’t hang up, please!" He begged. Just hearing his voice was breaking my heart. I sat down at the kitchen table and kept the phone pressed to my ear. I simply waited. "Are you there?" He asked at last. I wasn’t going to hang up, but I wasn’t going to encourage him either. I waited some more.

"After you called, Mark came over. He asked me if I wanted to go out with him and the guys. Mark had his car with him, so I knew a lot of walking wouldn’t be involved. I called your house, but your mother told me you’d already left. I had no idea that you planned on coming over here. As for what my mother said to you about my leg; she told you what she knows. That is, that’s the story I gave her. You see, Mom didn’t come to the game today. I told her that I fell, but I told her that I was fine. I’m really not supposed to be walking on this leg," he finished and waited.

I felt my anger building. His story was just plausible enough to be true. Hell, if he didn’t care would he be calling me up at one o’clock in the morning? I found myself unable to reply to him in any fashion. "Joan, open your front door. I’ll be right there." he said and ended the call. Did he think he could just come waltzing over here in the middle of the night? I found myself standing with the front door open staring across the street. Moments later Sam came hobbling over. He really did appear to be injured. My heart softened.

"Joan, I’m so sorry sweetheart!" He said and groped for me in a tenuous lurch. "I wish I’d told the guys no," he continued. "If I’d had any idea…" his voice trailed off. How could I stay mad at him?

"It’s all right Sam," I said, giving in but not so sure that I should. He held me tight and kissed me. Damn, but his kisses took me away. I wasn’t even sure if we were alone in the house. All I knew was that if Mom was home, she hadn’t answered the phone. I told him to wait right there and ran upstairs to check the bedrooms. Mom and Aunt Melissa were indeed still "out."

I came back down and he followed me into the kitchen. "So, do you have any of that pizza left?" he asked sheepishly. For just a second, I found myself wondering if he was just here for the pizza. I punched him in the shoulder and told him to take a seat. I defrosted a few slices in the microwave then popped them into the toaster oven. It wasn’t as good as fresh, but it was better than nothing. I poured us both some sodas and sat down across from him. The toaster pinged and I served up the pie. Before sitting down, I repeated the procedure. I knew one slice apiece wouldn’t be nearly enough. Well, not for him anyway.

I still felt a bit out of sorts, but the smell of food was more than I could handle. My mouth began watering and pretty soon I was lost in the taste of peppers and onions. "I wish I knew what to say?" I began. How could I admonish him? He’d done nothing wrong. Well, other than going out when he should have stayed in bed. "I thought your baseball career meant everything to you?" I asked seeking clarification.

"It does Joan, it was really stupid going out. Still, the guys made me feel welcome. Aside from yourself, you know I’ve never had any friends before. It just felt so good to be wanted." A heartfelt answer. He sure knew all the right buttons to push. "Once I get home, I’m not getting out of bed again till Wednesday," he said and laughed. We finished up with two slices apiece. He told me that the next time I planned on surprising him to tell him about it first. He said it so seriously that he made me laugh.

I told him I had to get to sleep cause I had band practice in the afternoon. He laughed and said that he wasn’t aware that I played the trombone. OK, maybe he was trying a bit too hard. We hugged and kissed and I promised to stop over and see him tomorrow evening. With that, he was gone.

It was almost two o’clock and Mom and Aunt Mel still hadn’t returned. I was too tired to worry about them. They were big girls. I repeated my earlier procedure of putting on the headphones before drifting off. Maybe I could learn something by osmosis? Moments later my alarm clock was blaring, telling me that it was nine o’clock. I felt pretty good all things considered. Maybe there was something to sleep learning? I was reasonably familiar with the album, but I woke up and spontaneously started singing: "Now here I go again, I see, the crystal visions. I keep my visions to myself." I had her voice "spot on" if I do say so myself.

I smiled wondering just what Fred’s plans for the band were. Before noon I had "Edge of Seventeen" and "Dreams" down pat. I simply loved my new guitar. I closed my eyes and envisioned applause and accolades as I went through the two songs one last time. "Go Your Own Way" would have to wait for another time. Hell, two out of three ain’t bad? (Meatloaf).

For some reason I spent an extraordinary amount of time getting ready to go. It was only band practice. Why was I so concerned with my appearance? I had the perfect curls and flips put in my hair. I applied some rose lipstick and posed seductively in the mirror for a few minutes. The barrel end of my curling iron served as a mock microphone. Oh yeah, I was ready for the big time! As a final gesture I put my new diamond studs in my ears. It took me a long time to get used to the butterfly clasps but I managed to get it done before Darla came banging on the front door.

Mom and Aunt Mel were sitting at the kitchen table laughing away when I told them that I was off to band practice. Mom didn’t even ask me about it, she just told me to make sure I had my cell phone and to be home by six o’clock. Neither of the ladies commented on my appearance. Had I simply wasted my time?

Darla’s one word greeting changed my mind in that regard. "Wow!" was all she said when she came walking in the front door. "Are you trying to seduce anyone special?" She asked me and started laughing. I spun her around and pushed her out the front door. I ran back into the house. I’d forgotten to get Mom’s half of the guitar money.

"I’m sorry Joan, I didn’t know you needed it today. I don’t have any cash here in the house." I sighed and told her that I needed the money as soon as possible. Fortunately, I had more than enough. Mom could simply reimburse me. I retrieved my cash and off we went.

Aunt Vivian knew the way to Fred’s house without asking for directions. We pulled into his driveway and she told us to wait in the car, she’d be right back. I sat there wondering just what was going on? What had caused Fred to seek psychological help? Ten minutes later Aunt Viv finally returned to the car.

"OK, you two. You can go. But, you’d better be on your best behavior." This last bit was aimed at me as she eyed my appearance carefully. "I’ll be back to pick you up at about quarter to six. That should give you enough time to get started." She told us to have a good time and drove off smiling. Was I finally going to find out just why Darla thought it was so important to be here this afternoon?

Fred was waiting for us at the front door and held it open as we walked in. "Good afternoon girls," he said politely. "Joan, are you ready to play?" I almost asked him if the Pope shit in the woods. He ushered us down to the basement. It was even more magnificent than I remembered.

"So, shall we start with "Go Your Own Way?" He asked me. Of course, he’d want to start with the one song that I’d yet to figure out.

"Er, Fred?" I started. "I didn’t get to that one, I’m sorry." He laughed and asked me for my suggestion. Before I could answer, Darla was asking if she could join in. So that’s what this was all about. I had no idea that she played any instrument at all.

"Well, I see that you’ve got a drum kit here. I’d really like to give it a try, if you two don’t mind?" she asked timidly. I certainly had no objections. Fred, on the other hand, wasn’t so sure. He made sure that she understood that she could fill in for practice, if she was able, but that in no way meant that he was offering her a position in the band. She seemed pleased and dismayed simultaneously. Darla sat on the stool and began to wail away on the drums. I had no idea she could play at all, let alone play this well.

She began performing a drum solo. From the snare drum to the tom toms all the while bouncing madly up and down on the high hat and the bass drum. Fred smiled at her when she stopped. He was surprised as well. "Yes, but can you sing?" he asked her. She laughed and adjusted the boom mike to a proper height for her.

"So, what song are we going to do first?" she asked. Fred looked at me and I suggested "Dreams." Of course, Darla was unfamiliar with the song so we spent the next ten minutes playing it over a few times on his stereo. The second time through she played along with the album; her smile grew wider with each stroke of the sticks. The song ended and Fred turned off the stereo.

"Shall we begin?" asked Darla. "And, who’s going to sing lead?"

Fred shook his head and figured the tension was starting before we even began. It was decided that I’d give it a try first: I knew all the words. Fred would play bass, I’d play guitar, and Darla would add the percussion. I felt the excitement build in my gut as we finally got under way.

Darla did a count off on the drum sticks and began. Fred followed up with the pulsating bass beat. I almost froze for a second, but finally found my voice. Once I got started, I closed my eyes and imagined myself sitting alone on the beach playing for the gulls. We finished up the song and all three of us were caught up in the excitement. It actually sounded "good!" the first time out. Sure there were a few rough spots, but even the harmonies flowed like liquid gold. I thought that I could play that one song all day long and be happy.

Fred was impressed with my vocal and it was decided then and there that I’d be singing lead on the Stevie Nicks songs. Finally we moved on to "Edge of Seventeen." I had a bit of a harder time with this one. The intro guitar part threw me off a bit. After a few tries I had it down perfectly. I found myself asking Fred if he’d rather I played bass given his expertise on the guitar.

"Don’t worry Joan, you’ll have ample opportunities to play the bass. Have you ever played it before?" He asked and laughed. I laughed as well and had to admit that I hadn’t, but how hard could it be? There were only four strings! He handed the Fender Bass to me and picked up his Rickenbacker. We spent the rest of the afternoon working on "Go Your Own Way." I couldn’t ever remember time passing as quickly as it did that afternoon.

"So, do you guys think there’s a place for me in your band?" Darla asked innocently. I knew I had no say in the matter, but if it was up to me she’d be in no questions asked.

Fred remained non-committal and simply said, "We’ll see."

Darla seemed placated by that remark. We wrapped up the practice and I told Fred I had his money for him. I also told him that my mother needed a receipt for insurance purposes. OK, so I lied. Still, I didn’t really know Fred at all. What if the guitar wasn’t even his to sell? He wrote down on a piece of paper exactly what he was selling me including the serial number from the instrument. The way he handled the whole thing, I could swear that he had a bit of experience in that area. I really felt that it was "mine" now. I hugged the instrument tightly and whispered words of love to it. Even if Mom didn’t kick in a dime, I still would have purchased it.

Aunt Vivian was waiting for us when we arrived outside. "Are you playing guitar now Darla?" She asked as we went to put my instruments in the car. Darla explained to her that both instruments were mine. I’d just spent a fortune (for me) on this guitar and already I was thinking about buying a Bass. On the way home Darla explained her prowess on the drums. It seems Darin had been playing drums since he was five years old.

After the accident, Darla let her set sit unattended in the basement for almost two years. For the past two years she’d been playing along with various albums. She was more excited than I was at the prospect of joining a band. Her enthusiasm was contagious. Constant babble was emitted by all three of us simultaneously on the way home. I insisted that Aunt Vivian and Darla come in for a few minutes when we arrived. I used the excuse of introducing her to my Aunt from Australia.

The smell of barbecued chicken filled the air when we walked in. I put the guitars away in the sewing room and joined everyone in the kitchen. Mom and Aunt Viv embraced touchingly while we all talked. Aunt Melissa convinced them to stay for supper. It seemed Dr. Robert Raspberry was working a rare Sunday evening at the hospital. Aunt Mel controlled the conversation as an interviewer would. The entire dinner talk was about our practice that afternoon. Darla and I took turns responding to her questions.

The chicken and fries were a smashing success. I began to realize how important the evening meal, shared with loved ones could be. Things just seemed so much happier now that Dad was gone. I began to wonder just how much of the current feeling of community was due to Aunt Melissa’s presence. Darla helped me clean up and the ladies adjourned to the living room to continue their conversation. Darla and I went into the sewing room and fooled around with my guitars for a bit.

"So that’s what diamond studs look like in your ears," she said at last.

"I didn’t think you’d noticed," I said chuckling.

"Did you get all dressed up for Fred?" She asked me. "You do know he’s 18?" She continued. I blushed a bit before finding my voice.

"You know Darl, I thought YOU had the hots for him. I had no idea that you wanted to come along to attempt to wangle your way into the band." I finished. She looked like she was ready to get pissed. "Now, hold on a second," I begged. "I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. If it were up to me, you’d be in that band in a nanosecond. Your drumming is what made us sound so good," I added, piling it on.

"Do you really think so?" She asked seeking reassurance. I assured her that yes, I really did think so. She then started coming up with names for the band. First out of her mouth was "The Raspberries." I told her that it had been done before. She laughed and said she knew, but she also knew that that group hadn’t had an actual "Raspberry" in it. I fell off my chair laughing with her. We both decided that Fred could come up with the name. It would be, after all, his band.

It was closing in on nine o’clock and the ladies looked like they were camping in for the night. Darla and I went out to the living room. I reminded Mom that she had to work tomorrow. I didn’t want a repeat of last Sunday night. Aunt Melissa begged them to stay a while longer. At least they were drinking tea. I told them that we were going over to Sam’s for a little bit. We walked out without another word being said.

Aunt Alice answered the front door and began apologizing profusely. She said that Sam had finally come clean about the whole thing this morning. I told her it was all right, that Sam and I had worked it all out. Darla just stared at me curiously the whole time. I then told Aunt Alice about the gab fest going on in my living room and said that I was sure her presence would be appreciated. She thanked me and headed out across the street. She didn’t need a formal invitation.

We found Sam up in his bedroom playing with a game boy. "Did you bring me anything to eat?" were the first words out of his mouth. He was incorrigible. I gave him a big hug and a kiss, careful not to knock down his left leg which was elevated with cushions. Darla did the same.

"So, how’s the leg today?" I asked. He told me that he shouldn’t have gone out last night by way of a reply. I felt guilty for thinking that it had served him right, but that’s what I thought. I asked him if he wanted anything and he told me he could really use a beer. I started thinking that he was drinking way too much lately. What the hell was his fascination with alcohol? Then Darla lit up a cigarette and I remembered my own stupidity. I spent a moment trying to decide which of us was doing more harm to their bodies. I gave up in frustration and went to get him a beer.

"What, no glass?" he said when I returned.

"Deal with it," I replied.

"So, how did your band thing go? Did you learn any marches? Should John Philip Soussa be worried?" he said and laughed. I laughed along with him, but Darla went into a lengthy explanation of what we were doing.

"Wow, so you’re singing lead?" He looked at me doubtfully.

"Thanks Sam," I said and attempted to smother him with a pillow. He laughed and downed his brew in one pull. A huge burp followed.

"You pig!" Darla exhorted. He just laughed at that and ordered another.

"You want another one you’re going to have to get it yourself," I told him.

We sat there for awhile and kidded easily with one another. At Sam’s and Darla’s insistence I sang "Dreams" acappella. I couldn’t have been too bad, both of them sat there silently till I finished. "I really didn’t know you could sing that good," he said and smiled at me. Darla nodded her head in agreement.

I then told him that I needed to get to bed, that I had a long day ahead of me. The only way I’d be able to go to Fred’s on Wednesday was if I did half of Mr. Gatz’s room tomorrow. He held me for a second longer than seemed reasonable before kissing me goodbye.

"You sure know how to spin their heads around," Darla informed me as we made our way back to my house.

"What do you mean?" I had to ask. Yes, I knew what she meant, though I didn’t agree with her. Just for fun I told her that Sarah didn’t seem to think so. The shot to my arm was a hard one. "Ouch!" I feigned injury. She laughed and we went inside.

The ladies appeared to be more animated than they’d been before we left. Maybe inviting Aunt Alice over hadn’t been such a good idea after all. It was almost ten o’clock. I was not going to have a repeat of last week.

"Mom, I really have to get to bed and there’s no way I’ll be able to sleep in the room next door with all this noise going on." Aunt Vivian was the first one to take the hint. I thanked her silently. They all exchanged hugs and slowly began to disperse. Aunt Mel mouthed "party pooper" at me as I headed up stairs to brush my teeth. "Some of us have to work for a living," I said and laughed.

I put my diamond studs away and reinserted my starter earrings. Mom hadn’t said a word about me wearing them. Maybe she hadn’t even noticed? I was certainly becoming more proficient at putting them in and taking them out.

I lay on the floor wondering if I’d ever be able to get comfortable in a bed again. The firmness of the floor covered with carpeting was more than appealing. I hugged Teddy and Josam close to my chest. I drifted off to sleep thinking that I was Stevie Nicks and Fred was my Lindsay Buckingham. It was a sweet dream…

Notes:

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Synopsis:

Joan's life starts to slip sideways when a lost job, a sick Sam, and a concerned Aunt come together to shake her world -- in a way she never expected.

Story:

Chapter 20

Life Goes On

I must have had some disturbing dreams during the night. I woke up feeling unusually depressed. The last thing I remembered was my little fantasy of singing live onstage. Now, here it was seven a.m. Monday morning and I had to get ready for work.

My depression deepened as I sat down to relieve myself. The harsh reality of my maleness sent me spiraling downward faster. I wish I had an inkling of just why I was feeling this way. It didn’t make any sense. Everything was going good in my life. I climbed in the shower robotically and got ready for the day.

I felt a wee bit better as I got dressed and prepared for the insanely long day ahead. Maybe that’s what had me feeling down? Knowing that I’d be working till nine o’clock tonight? I was afraid to admit that the reason was a much simpler one and it was hanging between my legs.

For the first time in a long time Mom was at the kitchen table when I came downstairs. She even offered to make my lunch for me. I thanked her for the offer but prepared my own food. I was going to need some extra nourishment to take with me today. I hadn’t yet told her of my plan to work late into the evening. I’d simply planned on leaving her a note. That option was no longer open to me. "Mom," I began, "I have to work late tonight."

Of course the first two words out of her mouth were, "How late?" I told her that I hoped to be home by nine-thirty. She went ballistic. I explained the whole thing. Well, almost the whole thing. I didn’t tell her how much I was getting paid for the job. She finally relented. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that it would probably be the same deal tomorrow. Somehow the fight with Mom had put a bit of bounce back in my step. For awhile there I was afraid that it was going to go the other way and I’d just go back to bed in total defeat.

Before heading out the door I ran up to the bathroom to take my pills. It promised to be a long day. Maybe I could hurt my leg sliding into second? I decided that I’d only schedule two "small" jobs for the rest of the week. Hopefully, I could have the weekend to myself. And no, I wasn’t going to go to Sam’s baseball game on the weekend. Well, I certainly didn’t want to. The day got off to a bad start. Mr. Ferris started begging me to work more hours. I told him that I couldn’t possibly work any more hours.

He half-threatened to let me go. I held my ground and told him that I understood, but I couldn’t possibly work any more hours. I almost told him that I’d considered calling out sick this morning. That I felt like I was doing him a favor by working for him at all. At one point I told him yet again that I’d understand if he needed to hire someone else that had more time to devote to the job. I found myself thinking that I’d better get down to the printer and order those business cards. The day was hardly under way and it promised to be a bad one.

By three o’clock I was over at Mr. Gatz’s house. I stopped at Mr. Hospin’s on the way and purchased the extension poles. He tried to engage me in friendly conversation but I really wasn’t in the mood. Damn if Gatz’s "great room" didn’t even look greater this afternoon. Thankfully, the room was as I’d left it. No need to lay down drop cloths everywhere. Mr.. Gatz stayed with me for a few minutes just to make sure I had everything set up ok, and then he disappeared.

The work went a lot faster than I thought it would. By nine o’clock I had all the cutting in done and two of the walls finished. Tomorrow I’d just have to finish the two walls and do a very small area of trim work. Mr. G was as helpful as he could possibly be. As I pedaled home I began to wonder if I wasn’t simply wasting my time sanding wood for Mr. Ferris. I wasn’t really learning things the way that I’d hoped when I began. In fact, aside from learning a bit about sanding between coats of stain, I’d learned nothing at all.

Perhaps my time would be better spent painting as often as possible. With the extra money I’d be earning I could buy all the shop tools that I’d need. I wasn’t abandoning my dream of creating fine furniture pieces, I just lacked the tools for the time being.

It was close to ten o’clock when I walked in the front door. Needless to say, Mom was quite upset. I told her that I’d be home much earlier tomorrow night; well, by seven anyway. I then asked her if she managed to get to the bank today. Of course, she had some excuse why she couldn’t make it. I wasn’t going to ask her for the money again. A cynic would have mused with regard to her offer that it was the thought that counts. Well, maybe I would ask her. With the extra money I could pick up a used bass and an amp.

I sat down at the kitchen table and wolfed down the remainder of my daily rations. I was beyond exhausted. A quick shower and I hit the floor just before eleven. I hoped that eight hours would be enough to sufficiently recover. As I’d been doing lately, I fell asleep listening to Fleetwood Mac on the stereo.

Tuesday morning Mom was still asleep when I left. This time I was able to leave her a note telling her that I’d be home by seven. Aunt Melissa was usually up by this time but there was no sign of her this morning. I felt a lot better this morning; like I’d somehow scaled some invisible hump.

I jumped right in with my staining when I got to work. I hadn’t been at it for half an hour when Mr. Ferris came over to me. "Joan, do you like working here?" He asked.

"Is there a problem Mr. Ferris? Isn’t my work up to par?"

He slowly shook his head from side to side and told me that my work was fine, but that I seemed to have lost my enthusiasm for the task. How one is supposed to maintain their enthusiasm for sanding wood was something that I still haven’t figured out. It was boring drudge work.

"Joan, it’s kind of late in the season, but I’m going to be breaking someone new in to take your job. You can stay and help them get acclimated if you want, or you can simply go about your business."

I really didn’t care about the job, but part of me was heartbroken. I felt rejected. What finally pushed me over the edge was when I saw Sarah walking up the driveway. She was to be my replacement. I couldn’t help laughing as she approached the garage. It was not joyous laughter.

"Mr. Ferris, I understand that you need someone who can devote more time to the job. I certainly don’t have any hard feelings. As for staying to train my replacement, I’m afraid that’s going to be impossible. To put it bluntly, Sarah and I just don’t get along. I’m sorry."

He told me that was all right. He paid me for Monday and told me he’d see me when school started. I tied Aunt Viv’s jewelry box to the bins on the back of my bike and pedaled my way home. Maybe I should have been upset about having been "dismissed" from my job, but in actuality I was relieved. Too much work, and too little money. I’d become spoiled by my painting escapades.

Aunt Melissa greeted me when I arrived home. She was just getting ready to head to the beach and asked me if I wanted to accompany her. She didn’t think it odd at all that I should return home from work an hour after I’d left.

I explained to her that I had quit my job and that I still had quite a lot of work to do. It would have been far easier finishing up Aunt Viv’s jewelry box at Mr. Ferris’ but, I could do it with the tools and supplies that I had at home. Of course, as soon as Aunt Melissa saw it she started going on and on about how pretty it was and how she needed a new jewelry box. I think it was a first for me, but I didn’t promise to build her one then and there. I’d certainly consider it when I had the time, but not at the moment.

I went in the house and made several calls attempting to line up painting jobs for later in the week. It took me ten calls, but I did manage to line up three jobs. I then called Mr. G and asked him if I could start early today. His reply: the sooner the better.

I couldn’t help but think of Sarah as I made my way over to his house. Did she really want my job? Or, did she just want it because I had it? And, I began wondering just what kind of additional hours Mr. Ferris planned on demanding from his help. Hell, he set the parameters for the job in the first place. He didn’t want us working too much and totally missing our summer vacation. Funny how philosophies change over time…

I finished up the great room at three o’clock on Tuesday. Mr. Gatz was beyond pleased with the results. He actually attempted to tip me, but I politely refused it. It was just another time I wish I’d had a camera with me to take some pictures. We parted on the greatest of terms and he promised to call me the next time he needed any painting done.

As for my "old" job, sure, come Thursday I’d miss the money from Mr. Ferris, but I wouldn’t miss working till seven o’clock at night. Besides, if I hustled I could use my time more productively. I just hoped Darla didn’t mention to Sarah that I was painting.. ha ha.. As easy as painting was, I was beginning to discover that there was "some" amount of skill involved and not everyone could do a first rate job.

The more I thought about my current situation on my way home, the more I realized just how much better off I was. I would make four times as much for the same time spent. And, if I wanted to take a day off, I could simply take a day off. It was an ideal situation, as long as I could keep the jobs coming in. I finally realized that I’d never have gotten anywhere without Mr. Hospin’s help. I hadn’t a clue as to how to thank him.

I stopped at the local printers and ordered up a thousand business cards. I put both the home number and my cell number on the cards. I decided to name my company "Painting by Joan." I also chose something that, according to the printer, no one had ever done before. I had a simulated splash of red paint in the upper left hand corner of each card. It cost a bit extra, but it was worth it. At least, I hoped it would be worth it. That bit of "red" would be an extra reminder to me every time I handed out a card. I gave Mr. Brewer a deposit and told him I’d be back on Friday to pick up my order.

Then, I’d be visiting everyone whose house I’d already painted. Well, all except the Whitcombs. I found myself wondering if they’d simply gotten used to their red kitchen. That reminded me, I really needed to put together some kind of contract.

I was the first to arrive home. It had been awhile since I’d made dinner so I decided that it was my turn. Funny, it took me all these years to figure out that Mom didn’t enjoy cooking. She sure had me fooled. Still, since I’d taken over the task, she never volunteered her time in the kitchen. Maybe she was just taking an extended break?

I had everything well under way when Aunt Mel arrived home. She didn’t seem the least bit put out by my presence. I’ve never known anyone like her before. She had the patience of a Saint. "So, you want to tell me what happened with your job?" She asked finally. I laughed and explained the situation to her. I simply didn’t have the kind of time to devote to it that Mr. Ferris required. I went on to explain that I hoped to keep just as busy with my painting. Time would tell on that one.

With everything under way, I asked Aunt Melissa if she could take over for a few minutes while I ran across the street and checked on Sam. Of course, she gave me the go ahead and off I went.

I began to wonder if Sam had changed positions in the last two days. He was exactly as I’d left him on Sunday night. In fact, he was still playing with a game boy when I walked in the room. "So, how’s your leg coming along?" I asked him.

"Well, I can start walking on it tomorrow," he replied. "I’m not sure if I’ll be able to play on Saturday though." He said sadly. I reassured him that all would be well. Besides, it still wasn’t his turn to pitch. If he did get a chance, it would be out of the bull pen. I began to wonder if the coach had changed his mind about letting Sam play games that he wasn’t pitching. The potential for injury might simply be too great. I knew that Sam would try to convince him that it was best for the team if he was playing. Again, time would tell.

"So, are they feeding you enough over here?" I had to ask him. I knew what his response would be before I asked so I wasn’t surprised when he told me he could eat. I promised him if he was a good boy that I’d be back later with a plate full of chicken and potatoes for him. He smiled at that and went on to tell me that he was having a bit of trouble keeping food down these days.

This was news to me. Sam, having trouble keeping food down? I’d only known him all my life and couldn’t ever remember him being sick. Maybe it had something to do with being stuck in bed these past few days. If he couldn’t keep down the chicken and the potatoes I’d have to have a talk with Aunt Alice about getting him to the doctor.

"Well big guy, I have to get back across the street and finish making dinner. Are you going to be alright over here by yourself?" I asked half joking. He gave me the saddest look and promised not to breathe until I returned. If he wasn’t sick already, I’d have punched him for that one. I gave him a huge hug and told him I’d be back around seven. I ran down and brought him back up some ginger ale hoping that would help to ease his stomach. I wasn’t going to worry anyone else about his symptoms at this point. He’d probably be fine come the morning. Why, once he ate some of my chicken, how could he help but get better?

I went back into the kitchen. Aunt Melissa had thoroughly taken over. I worked with her in silence for a bit when suddenly she asked me what was wrong with Sam. Hell, just because Sam had never been sick a day in his life didn’t mean that he wasn’t entitled to be now, did it? In fact, that made it more likely that he would get sick, didn’t it? I absentmindedly began discussing Sam’s condition with Aunt Mel. I probably went on longer than I should have. She then hit me with a question that rocked me on my heels.

"You two are using protection, aren’t you?" She was the third person to ask me this question. Its significance finally hit me. I fell into a kitchen chair.

"Aunt Mel, you don’t think?" No, it was impossible. Why, there’d only been the few times. Why hadn’t I paid closer attention in health class? "Aunt Melissa, I have no idea what Sam’s problem is, but I know it would disrupt two households if you mentioned this conversation to my mother or Aunt Alice. I’m not even sure how to broach the subject with Sam. Hell, he can’t be pregnant. We’re just kids!"

She came up behind me and gently massaged my shoulders. She promised to wait a few days but insisted that I keep her apprised of all that was going on. How was I ever going to mention this to Sam? He’d never let me touch him again. It would make a fine scandal for the newspapers were it true. He couldn’t be, he just couldn’t.

"You and I are going shopping after supper," she said and left me to collapse on the kitchen table. It took me a moment to figure out just what she had in mind. I couldn’t shake the feeling that Sam was indeed pregnant. It didn’t matter that they couldn’t put your picture in the paper for something like that. It was for the most part an impossible secret to keep. I found myself worrying that Aunt Alice would send him away. That Sam would decide to have an abortion. This was all more than I could handle.

I felt the need to get clean. I ran all the way upstairs and into the bathroom. The shower was steaming within minutes. I forced myself into the sweltering spray. I did my best to calm myself down. He was feeling nauseous so that made him pregnant? I realized the absurdity of it all. I scrubbed the little flecks of paint from my skin. How was I ever going to mention the possibility to Sam? Here Sam, pee on this.

I took another deep breath and realized that I wasn’t going to feel better until this particular possibility was eliminated one way or the other. I dried myself off and made myself as pretty as I knew how.

I then found myself thinking that if anyone was pregnant, that it should be me. I had so many conflicting emotions going on. How could I possibly be jealous? I put on a floral shell and my pleated blue skirt. A pair of hose and my Mary Jane’s completed the look. I looked as innocent as a school girl. Then again, so did Sam. I sighed as I made my way back downstairs.

"Joan, worrying about it isn’t going to change anything," Aunt Mel admonished as I returned to the kitchen. I helped her set the table and moments later Mom came strolling in the door. She didn’t have a care in the world. I hoped it would remain that way.

"Joan, what are you doing home?" She asked upon seeing me. I told her I got fired cause I couldn’t work all the hours that Mr. Ferris wanted. This caused Aunt Mel to raise her eyebrows. I just looked at her and shrugged. Hell, if I’d wanted the job, I could have been his little automaton.

Conversation soon turned to more pleasant things and for awhile I forgot about my potential problem. Dinner as always was delicious. I was sure that Sam would enjoy it when I brought it over to him. Of course, thinking of him brought my mind back into focus. I cleaned up the kitchen while Mom and Aunt Mel conversed at the table. Another first this evening. There’d been no round of gin and tonics before serving the meal. I’d been so preoccupied that I hadn’t noticed. Maybe in some ways things were returning to normal.

Aunt Melissa managed to borrow Mom’s car without her getting all bent out of shape and we headed out - - to the drugstore. I was surprised at the myriad of choices available. I finally picked one out at random and we went to the check out counter. I tried to pawn it off on Aunt Mel, but she pushed me away and forward in the line. I almost felt like laughing. For some reason, it seemed surreally silly to me. The elderly lady gave me a few dirty looks as she rang up my purchase. I felt like telling her that it wasn’t for me, but in a way it was.

"Have you decided how you’re going to mention this to Sam?" Aunt Mel asked. I sat there silently. "Do you want me to come with you?" She continued.

I just wanted to run away and hide somewhere for at least the next nine months. I thanked her for her offer, but realized that it was something that I’d have to do alone. I reasoned that Sam would handle it better on a full stomach, at least I hoped he would and we made our way home.

"You two are back fast," said Mom upon our return.

"I just wanted to get Joan this new eyeliner," replied Aunt Mel holding up the cover purchase.

I went into the kitchen and began assembling a plate with food. "Meals on Feet" I announced as I made my way to the front door. Mom chuckled. Aunt Mel’s serious expression would not fade. I found myself worrying that she’d tell Mom what was going on while I was gone.

It was the longest walk across the street I’d ever made in my life. The E.P.T. kit tucked safely away in my purse. Aunt Alice smiled at me as I entered the front door and told me that Sam was waiting for his dinner. She went on to say that he’d refused her offerings earlier. I took that as a bad sign. I couldn’t recall Sam ever refusing food. I brought the plate up to him and ran back downstairs for the tray and some ginger ale.

"How did you know I wanted ginger ale?" He asked me upon my return. Waiting for him to finish eating before saying anything was one of the hardest things I’d ever done in my life. He may have had trouble keeping food down, but his appetite hadn’t diminished. He was working on the last spoonful of potatoes when I simply couldn’t hold it in anymore.

"Sam, I have a request to make of you and you’re not going to like it," I began. He eyed me curiously. I fumbled with my purse and had my right hand wrapped around the package with it hidden inside.

"Are you going to show me what you’ve got hiding there?" He asked.

Just for a moment I was grateful that he couldn’t jump out of bed and overpower me. Well, all right, he could, but he wouldn’t. I tried to think of the right words to say. I drew a blank with each false start. "How’s the nauseousness?"

Just as he was about to tell me he was fine he asked for the bowl on the side of his bed. I decided to take a different approach. "Sam, when’s the last time you had your period?" He looked at me strangely and reminded me that I had seen the whole thing back in June. That didn’t bode well for my worries.

I removed my hand from my purse and handed him the test kit. He looked like a condemned prisoner who’d just been informed that the date of his execution had been moved up. "Sam, it could be that your nausea is morning sickness," I said at last. He seemed aghast at the possibility. For a moment I thought he was going to hit me for simply making the suggestion. "Sam, you had your last period in early June, it’s now the last week of July, don’t you see the possible connection?" I begged.

His face closed up like Fort Knox. I sat by the side of his bed and held his hand. He didn’t resist me. I took that as a good sign. "Sam, all you have to do is urinate on the test strip and we’ll know for sure." I pushed onward. "Sweetheart, we just have to know one way or the other. I haven’t been able to think of anything else since I realized the possibility." I wasn’t going to tell him that Aunt Melissa already knew all about it.

"But what about my baseball career?" He cried out suddenly. "You’re the one that’s supposed to get pregnant, not me!" He exclaimed. If he was indeed pregnant, I’d have done anything to change places with him. Unfortunately, that was impossible.

"Sam, it’s going to be all right," I said in a soft voice. I helped him out of bed and into the bathroom. Thankfully Aunt Alice wasn’t a "hands on" kind of parent and left us alone while we worked our way through this.

"But, we’re only fourteen!" He shouted. I hoped his shout wouldn’t draw an audience of one. I nervously listened for the sound of feet on the stair treads. None were forthcoming. Aunt Alice didn’t stir from whatever she was doing. I was prepared to stay and sat down on the side of the tub. Sam shooed me away quickly. I didn’t want to leave. This was where I belonged. I went back in his bedroom and waited a few minutes. After I heard the toilet flush, I went and tentatively knocked on the door.

"Sam, are you OK in there?" My own stomach was churning and I was pretty sure I’d be leaving a mess to clean up momentarily. A sound of faint sobbing greeted me. I was filled with mixed emotions. Sure, this was horrible, but it might be the only chance I’d ever have to become a biological parent. Well, given my own delicate condition.

I tried the door knob. It wasn’t locked. I slowly turned it and made my way inside. I’d never seen Sam so distraught in my life. Not even when his "father" had supposedly passed away. What could I do? "Sam, it’s going to be alright," I said at last. "At least now we know what it is," I continued in an attempt to calm him down. What were we going to do now? "Are you sure there wasn’t any mistake?" I had to ask.

He shoved the test strip in my face. Per the instructions there were two dark purple bands across the middle of it. "What do we do now?" he wailed. It was time I confessed that Aunt Melissa already suspected. I had to get him back into bed first. I didn’t want him hurting himself or the baby.

Sam was clearly more upset about this than I was. I guessed with good reason. My pain was simply related to the fact that it wasn’t me that was pregnant. "Come on Sam, let’s get you back to bed." I said and half carried him back to his room. "Why didn’t you use protection?" He asked me.

It finally started: the blame game. I wasn’t going to throw it back at him and ask why he hadn’t used anything either. It was too late for that now in any case.

"Sam, do you think you can walk?" We really needed to get out of the house. For some strange reason I was simply insanely happy over the prospect of becoming a parent. What was wrong with me?

"I have to get rid of this," Sam said matter of factly. Oh no! Of all the possibilities I’d never really considered abortion. He couldn’t really do that, could he? My earlier euphoria turned to dross. What should in a sense be a happy occasion was turning into a disaster. Still, I knew in my heart that Sam’s reaction was the more appropriate one. He was totally restless and unable to stay in bed. He stood up and took a few tentative steps before smiling slightly as he realized that the pain in his leg was gone.

We walked slowly to the boardwalk. There would be no marathon jaunts this evening. We removed our shoes and walked towards the waves. I didn’t know what to say. Could I let him abort my baby? Hell, could I stop him? I knew that it would be legally impossible to prevent him from terminating the pregnancy if he so chose. How could this be happening to us? It’s funny, even in light of what had happened I still found myself thinking of Sam as male.

We sat there in silence for the longest time. Finally, I heard a voice. "Sam, do you think it would be possible to keep the baby?" I was somewhat astounded to find out that the voice was my own. The ensuing punch to my right shoulder was hardly a playful one. I collapsed in the sand beside him. I was inconsolable.

He finally let go of his own anguish for a few moments to consider my own. "Joan, we’re just kids," he began.

"But what if it was meant to be?" I argued irrationally. This wasn’t supposed to have happened. It still amazes me that neither one of us had given any consideration to the possibility of a pregnancy. I continued crying. Sam hugged me tight and joined in. We weren’t there too long when another voice interrupted us.

"Can anybody play?" Aunt Melissa had found us. "I take it by the sad looks on your faces that Sam took the test?" She asked solemnly. Sam shot me a look of total betrayal.

"Now just a minute Sam. I didn’t say anything to her. She was the one that told me you might be pregnant." For the moment I was glad that Sam was hobbled by his injury. For all his building anger, he didn’t let me go.

"What are we supposed to do now?" Sam asked Aunt Mel. I looked up at her expectantly, as if with her magic wand, she’d make everything as it once was.

"I think it’s time to forget about role-playing gender games and deal with reality as it exists," Aunt Melissa replied. Something in her voice told me that this story wouldn’t have any "Happily ever after" for its ending. "Come on children, it’s time to go home. Your parents are waiting for you."

So, she’d told Mom and Aunt Alice about the prospect of a pregnancy? So much for being able to trust anyone. Sam slowly lifted himself off the sand and headed for the boardwalk ramp. Aunt Melissa and I followed close behind. I knew there wouldn’t be any celebration awaiting us on our return.

The walk back home, though only a few blocks, seemed to take forever. "In you go" said Aunt Mel when we arrived at my front door. For a moment Sam looked like he was going to bolt. I’m pretty sure that if his leg had been healthy he’d have run. Instead he slowly ascended the steps and walked inside. We could hear voices emanating from the kitchen in the back of the house. "Keep walking," Aunt Melissa ordered.

Mom and Aunt Alice seemed relieved by our presence. "So, I understand we have a problem?" Mom asked the table at large. I was ready to speak, but deferred to Sam. This was his story to tell if indeed he was up to discussing it. He just sat there examining his fingertips, not saying a word. Finally, he looked at me and gave me a nod.

"I’m not sure how to tell you all this," I started. "It seems Sam is pregnant," I blurted out at last. My pronouncement seemed anti-climactic at best. Although it seemed everyone knew the news already, a hush fell over the room. I wished there was some way I could protect my baby growing inside of Sam. I never felt so helpless before.

"Are you sure about this?" asked Aunt Alice. I explained the symptoms and the test results but reasoned that the test could still be in error somehow.

"Now don’t anybody run off half-cocked," admonished Aunt Melissa. "Sam, how do you feel about all this?" She continued.

"I just can’t be pregnant," he said. "Why there’s baseball and school and just life in general. I’m not ready to be anybody’s parent," he finished.

I wasn’t a religious person, but I was personally against abortion. Yes, I know, easy for me to say; I can’t get pregnant. I couldn’t believe that it was even a consideration. I slowly slipped into a state of shock. No amount of cajoling could bring me back. Sam was the one with the problem and here I was the one unable to act. I moved to the sewing room and collapsed on the floor. The four of them left me laying there and adjourned back to the kitchen table

They went round and round for about an hour. Finally, Sam came in the room and announced the group decision. He would be taking a trip to the doctor tomorrow for a real determination of status and further decisions could wait until that was over.

Sam held me close and kissed me before taking his leave. He told me he was sorry for having let this happen. I wanted to tell him that it was at least as much my fault as it was his. For whatever reason, I couldn’t find the words.

I tossed fretfully for the longest time. At length I fell asleep dreaming of a child that would never be…

Notes:

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Synopsis:

As book two begins to draw to a close, Sam considers his options. Joan makes an impassioned plea for her child. She ponders the potential problems of being a parent at such a tender age.

Story:

Chapter 21

Showdown

I slept fitfully all night long. I awoke several times to reality during the night and had a very difficult time trying to get back to sleep. Finally, I gave up and dragged myself off of my makeshift bed. Lying there served no useful purpose. I never thought I could feel for another human being what I felt for the unborn fetus in Sam’s womb.

I just had to find some way to protect that baby. This wasn’t a hypothetical woman facing the right to choose question; this was my baby growing in the body of another and me having no rights whatsoever with regard to its well-being. I loved Sam with all my heart but if need be I’d lock him away until the baby could be safely removed from his body. Did that make me a bad person? Why couldn’t I simply make him see how important this life was not just to all of us, but to the baby herself? No, I didn’t want to join any right to life protest marches. As insane as it sounds, I still believe in the right to choose: just don’t choose for me.

The sun was just starting to poke its head over the ocean as I made my way to the beach. The last time I’d been here at this hour was with Darla on her birthday. That whole experience seemed like a dream to me now. Maybe I could discuss all of this with Darla? No, bad idea, odds are that no one else in the family would want me discussing this with anyone. I really needed some help with this and I didn’t see any forthcoming from any quarter.

I began wondering if Sam upon finding out "she".. ok, damn it.. she.. for purposes of this discussion. I just look like a crazy person referring to Sam as "he." Anyway, I began wondering and worrying how much of a snap decision an abortion would be. Could she just take one of those "morning after pills" and forget about it? Was it already too late for that? Would I have any opportunity to dissuade her from terminating the pregnancy? Was there another way out? Could Mom or even Aunt Alice carry the baby to term if Sam didn’t want to?

This was human life we were talking about here. Far too important to end without serious consideration. OK, so from my perspective there were only two good reasons for an abortion: 1) the fetus was damaged beyond ability to have a normal life, or 2) the fetus was a threat to the mother. Terminating a pregnancy under such circumstances actually made some sense to me. Still, I had no vote in the upcoming decision; something so important to me. Something that would have a profound effect on my life and I had absolutely no say in it one way or the other. It just didn’t seem right somehow.

I found myself feeling so strongly about the issue that I’d even promise Sam "she’d" never have to see the baby again once it was born. Just let the poor thing live. I’d never known anyone who had an abortion before. Or, if I did, they certainly weren’t talking about it. I’d never been a religious person, but I found myself praying; praying for a life that didn’t seem to have a ghost of a chance at this point in time.

I sat there with my head buried in my arms listening to the sounds of nature all around me. I began rocking back and forth and sobbing uncontrollably. I felt as if I was losing my mind. How could I make anyone see my point of view if I couldn’t present myself rationally? I still couldn’t get over the depth of my feelings for this unborn mass of cell tissue. This large conglomeration of cells incapable of thought or movement had me ready to commit any act short of murder to insure its safety. My tears continued flowing in a futile attempt to wash away the pain.

"You know, sitting here on the beach crying isn’t going to change anything," the voice behind me said. "If you’re serious about saving the baby’s life then you’d better get off your whiny ass and get on home." I looked around rapidly and saw no one. Was I suffering from auditory hallucinations? "I’m over here Joan," Aunt Melissa’s voice said clearly. "I want to tell you a story," she said as she sat down next to me. The lady certainly knew how to find me, that’s for sure.

"Once upon a time there was a fifteen year-old girl who thought she was in love. She began doing things that she shouldn’t have, taking no heed or responsibility for her actions. The only thing that mattered was her love. Your mother is young for having a child your age, wouldn’t you agree?" She asked me rhetorically. "Didn’t you ever wonder how her sister who was only two years older had a daughter who was eight years older than yourself?"

I quickly did the math in my head. So, Aunt Melissa had been pregnant with my cousin when she was but fifteen years old. "But Aunt Melissa, how can I protect the baby? I have no rights, no legal standing whatsoever. I certainly didn’t want things to turn out this way, but I can’t see turning my back on the responsibility of it all. Help me to make them see what’s right, I beg of you…"

"Joan, sometimes, not often but sometimes, I wonder how different my life would have been if Melissa hadn’t been born. And yes, your Uncle Harry is Melissa’s father. We were married two weeks before Melissa’s birth. Didn’t you ever wonder why you’ve never seen any of my wedding photos? He was eighteen, I’d just turned sixteen and we gave birth to the most magnificent child the world has ever known, present company excepted," she said and laughed.

"It’s just not fair. If that baby were growing inside of me we wouldn’t be having this discussion. We’d be planning for its future." I had an inkling of what an incredible ordeal this must be for Sam, but I could never imagine "getting rid of" the baby. "Come on Aunt Melissa," I said rising to my feet. "We’ve got an abortion to stop!"

"That’s my girl!" She said to me as she put her arm around me and walked me home. When we arrived home Aunt Mel escorted me up to my bedroom. She insisted that I lay down for awhile. She promised me that nothing would happen without my knowledge at least. I’d been sleeping on the floor for so long I felt like I was lying on a cloud. Aunt Melissa leaned over to give me a hug and I squeezed her so tight for a moment I was afraid I was going to break her.

She could tell that I was too wound up to fall asleep. She lay beside me and gently stroked my hair while whispering over and over that everything was going to be all right. After a time, I was too tired to fight: I believed her. Sleep came swiftly after that.

I awoke instantaneously around noon. No one had interrupted my sleep so I assumed that nothing had happened yet. Still, the house was a bit too quiet. I literally ran down the stairs. Mom and Aunt Melissa were sitting at the kitchen table. Was today a holiday and no one had informed me? "Good, you’re up." This from Mom. "Go and get dressed, we’re all going to the doctor’s in a wee bit." I ran back upstairs. My stomach felt like it had a thousand pound weight hidden inside it. I washed my face in the sink and got dressed.

I’m not sure how they beat me, but Mom and Aunt Melissa were all ready to go when I came downstairs. I started thinking that maybe if Aunt Mel told Sam her story that she’d see what a fantastic person my cousin was and put any thoughts of terminating the pregnancy aside. I was grasping at straws.

We all piled into Mom’s car and made the short drive to the medical center. Sam and I went up to the counter together to sign in and the receptionist assumed that the appointment was for me. On an otherwise bleak day, that made us smile. Aunt Alice looked as I had before I went back to bed. Mom didn’t look much better. For some reason Mom and her sister were holding hands.

The five of us sat there for close to an hour. It was as if we were waiting for the axe to fall. Finally the doctor’s assistant came into the waiting room to secure the patient. Her jaw dropped slightly when she realized that Sam was indeed the patient. Aunt Alice and Mom attempted to join her, but were told that there would be a consultation afterwards. Sam seemed absolutely petrified as he was escorted away.

It must have been an hour later when Dr. Linda Feingold came out and invited us all into her office. The silence was deafening. Dr. Feingold had some particularly nasty looks for me. I guessed that Sam had told her about our relationship. "I take it you’re the father," she said pointing at me. I did my best to turn invisible in the stiff-backed leather chair. It didn’t work. I looked over at Sam whose eyes were focused on his shoelaces. I cleared my throat several times in an effort to find my voice. Just as I was about to speak, the good doctor cut me off.

"It seems that Sam is indeed pregnant," she said and stopped. It was as though she was waiting for someone to protest: no one did. "There’s more," she went on. More, what more could there possibly be, I wondered? After the slight commotion that had erupted died down, the doctor continued. "She’s not only pregnant, she’s pregnant with twins." I knew it wasn’t a joyous occasion, but my heart soared. My baby, no, my babies were alive and growing inside of Sam. Aunt Melissa’s hand began gently massaging my back. The mouths of all in attendance with the exception of Sam’s and the good doctor’s were open and ready, as if to receive a spoonful of some dreaded medicine.

When she saw that composure had finally been restored, the doctor continued. "The question now is, what are we going to do about it?" My heart sank: deep into the depths of despair.

"Do you anticipate any complications from the pregnancy?" This from Aunt Melissa who was rapidly turning into my favorite person on the face of the earth.

"Aside from her youth, there is no reason why Sam shouldn’t give birth to two perfectly healthy babies. I’ve been following Sam’s baseball career. It seems a shame that it should have to end this way. With a very simple procedure we can end this problem now." An unexpected "NO!" escaped from my lips. What kind of a doctor was this? "I’ll leave you alone to discuss the situation," said the doctor as she made her way out of the office.

I just wanted to curl up and die. But, I couldn’t, my babies’ lives were at stake. "Sam, isn’t there some way we can do this?" I begged helplessly. I noticed that she wasn’t moved by my plea. "Sam, those are OUR babies in there. They are a part of us. Sure, it’s a shame that it had to happen now, but how many people try their whole lives and never manage to have children at all? In case you haven’t noticed, I’ll never be able to give birth to your babies. I wish with every fiber of my being that that wasn’t so, but there’s nothing I can do to change it."

"We can make this work somehow. I’ll care for them as much as humanly possible. It won’t interfere with your baseball career, I promise! Please Sam! Not just for me or for you, but for them." There were so many things I wanted to say. I wanted to tell her that if she ever loved me in the least, she wouldn’t even consider aborting our babies. And now the potential crime had doubled in magnitude. "Please Sam! I’ll do anything. Please don’t hurt the babies…" I sobbed uncontrollably.

Sam’s own eyes filled with tears as I made my impassioned plea. I just wanted to hug him, to hold him, to rub his belly till he purred with delight. The three adults in attendance remained stonily silent. "You know Sam, I had just turned sixteen when I gave birth to my daughter," Aunt Melissa announced. "It was the proudest day of my life." she finished.

Aunt Alice finally found her voice. "What do you want to do Sam?" She asked her.

Sam eyed me sadly. I turned to stone as I readied myself to hear the most painful words imaginable. I tried to look up at him, but I couldn’t focus at all. Anyone walking into the room would assume that the doctor had just told me that I had some terminal illness. "SAM!" I screamed as the others restrained me.

"I don’t know!" He uttered at last. Those three words. The sweetest words I’d ever heard in my life. Not a total affirmation, but a beginning. Could I really be a parent to a couple of needy babies? I was immediately thankful for the way I’d been raised. Thank God, I hadn’t been pampered. I had a pretty good idea of the difficulties involved in raising a pair of screaming tykes. I also knew that there wasn’t anything else in this world that I’d rather do.

"Sam, Mom and I will sign whatever you like that says we’ll take care of the twins once they’re born," I said without consulting her. I was beyond amazed that Mom looked at me with something like pride in her eyes. She remained silent.

I knew this wasn’t a game. I knew there were dire consequences. Still, nothing on this earth could have prevented me from rising to the challenge of caring for my children. For just a moment I realized that my sister would be only a few months older than her nieces and/or nephews. I was filled with a strength that I still can’t fathom. I slowly rose from my chair and walked silently over to Sam.

I grabbed his head in my arms and cradled him. I rocked him gently to and fro and cooed at him softly. This was my home. Sam and the babies were my life. Nothing else on God’s green earth mattered. We remained in that position until Dr. Feingold returned.

"Doctor, will Sam have to give up baseball for now?" I asked trying to take control of the situation. She looked at me as if she was disappointed. Like, who the hell was I to be involved in any of this. I was just a kid, and if truth be told it was my fault we were here in the first place. Her wicked thoughts bounced off of me like foam rubber off of a concrete surface. I waited for her actual words.

"Sam’s about eight weeks along now," the Doctor began. "But for her bouts with nausea, she seems remarkably healthy. There’s no reason she can’t finish out the rest of the season," she finished. For some reason I found myself not trusting the Doctor’s proclamation. Was she secretly hoping that Sam would suffer a spontaneous miscarriage? I knew those were horrible thoughts to be harboring. This person was a medical doctor after all. She’d sworn to "do no harm" as part of her oath.

"We’d like to take some time to consider our actions," I said speaking for the group. Why did this doctor dislike me so? What had I done to her? Despite my appearance I’m sure she viewed me as just another screwed-up boy. We made an appointment for the same time next week. Mom paid the bill telling me she hoped it was covered under the insurance plan. I laughed at that and told her that I’d take care of it if it wasn’t.

"I’m not breast-feeding them," Sam said as we piled into the car. That one statement sent me over the moon! I hugged him till I thought my arms were going to fall off.

"I don’t guess you two need to worry about using protection from now on," Aunt Melissa said and laughed. I thought for a second about punching Aunt Melissa in the shoulder but realized before I could begin that it would be inappropriate. The next statement belonged to Aunt Alice.

"I’m going to be a Grand Mother," she sighed sorrowfully. Everyone in the car erupted in laughter including Sam. Thankfully he sat next to me on the way home. His mood seemed to have lightened. I hate to be cynical, but I believe it was due to the fact that Dr. Feingold told him he wouldn’t have to quit baseball.

We stopped at the pancake house for lunch. The ladies started asking for the smoking section when I nixed that idea. No one was going to be smoking around my babies! Sam ate like a moose. To test out his strange cravings he ordered up some dill pickles with his pancakes. He didn’t get sick from the experience, though I felt like barfing watching him eat that insane combination of food.

We arrived home and once again, I was exhausted. "You’d better get all the sleep you can now," Aunt Alice offered up to the laughter of everyone but Sam and myself. I was somewhat amazed and befuddled by the parental attitude, but grateful for it nonetheless. I hugged Sam close and asked him if he’d like to go for a walk. We had some things to discuss and I didn’t want to talk about them in front of everyone. Sam demurred and told me we could talk about it all tomorrow.

My mind was assaulted by a variety of inanities. Joan and Samantha if they were girls. John and Samuel if they were boys. If one of each, why Joan and Samuel, of course. I seriously felt like screaming from the rooftops! Nothing more important had ever happened to me in my brief life. I couldn’t imagine anything more important ever occurring.

We walked into the house and then I remembered: it was Wednesday, I had band practice. Was I going to have to give all this up? Were my dreams of stardom quelled before ever becoming airborne? This was the one thing in my life I was doing for me. Was I supposed to sacrifice everything?

Wait a minute: Sam, he was giving up everything. Wait a minute: he wasn’t giving up baseball. Besides, he’d never held a job a day in his life. I could feel the resentment building. All in all, these children were MY responsibility. Did this mean I had to quit the band? Would I be misleading Darla and Fred if I just went along only to drop out later? There was no need for math wizardry to figure that one out. I’d have to tell them.

But, tell them how? Fred believed I was female. Should I tell him I’m pregnant? He’d probably send me walking upon hearing the news. Should I tell him that I was really a "boy?" What would he think of me then? Probably less than if he thought I was a pregnant fourteen year old. With all that had happened today, I forgot to take my pills. I wasn’t usually so forgetful about stuff. Was I forgetting on purpose?

I knew that those pills were my one link to sanity. I went into the bathroom and closed the door behind me. I’d seen no benefit from the two milligrams of estrogen I’d been taking thus far. Was it always going to be this way? Was I simply chasing some elusive dream? Hell, the love of my life was pregnant with my babies. I was jealous beyond verbal description.

I took my pills but, as I swallowed them down I determined to secure a more reasonable prescription for myself. This limited dosage would never affect the changes that I needed deep within my being.

I saw that Aunt Melissa wasn’t in my room as I passed by. I logged onto my computer and placed an order for an appropriate dosage of hormones. I knew I needed that debit card for something! I can’t tell you how many times I viewed the page that said I was taking a one-quarter dose of estrogen. My children needed a mother: I’d been knowingly elected.

I felt better as I descended the stairs. Things were falling into place all around me. Maybe not as I’d wanted them to, but slowly and surely sense was being made of my universe…

Chapter 22

Be My Baby

The rest of the afternoon sped by. I hadn’t even called Darla to ask her if we had a ride. I decided that I’d better. Cause if Aunt Vivian wasn’t taking us, then I’d better get my fanny on my bicycle.

"Darla?" I asked when the phone was picked up. "Do we have a ride to practice this evening?" I followed.

"Practice? What practice?" She said and waited for me to get all upset before bursting into laughter. "Mom and I will be over in about fifteen minutes. You’d better be ready," she said and hung up the phone.

The thought of making myself pretty for Fred didn’t even occur to me. OK, so I washed my face, put on my makeup and put a few flips in my hair. But, I pretty much did that all the time anymore. This was nothing special.

Fifteen minutes later I was waiting by the front door for them to arrive. I couldn’t help myself. No sooner was I in the car and I blurted out. "This can’t go any farther, but I’m going to be a mother."

"WHAT!!!" Darla screamed.

I went on to explain the entire situation to the both of them as we rode towards Fred’s. "OK, so technically, I’m going to be a father," I finished. Aunt Vivian remained silent in the front seat. I was really anxious to hear her opinion. "Aunt Viv, what do you think?" I asked pleadingly.

"You’re going to have to give me some time to consider all of this," she said and went back into quiet mode. Darla was so excited she seemed about to burst. If it wasn’t for the fact that she couldn’t get pregnant, I’m pretty sure that Aunt Viv would have persuaded her not to be my friend anymore.

We arrived at Fred’s and exited the vehicle. Aunt Viv told us she would be back at nine-thirty. Darla swore that she wouldn’t mention a word to Fred. I knew I had to tell him something, but what? Would I rather leave the "band" cause I was pregnant, or would I rather leave cause I was going to be a father and had no time for such frivolities. I had to tell him something. My mind kept flipping back and forth as we made our way into his basement.

"Fred?" I started as I began to set up, "we have to talk," I continued as I plugged my guitar in. A look of total confusion swept over his face. Could I tell him the truth? I knew that I couldn’t. I wasn’t sure what would hurt me more, Fred throwing me out of the band cause I was pregnant and soon to give birth, or because I was a boy "pretending" to be a girl. My heart grew heavy as I grappled for words.

In the final analysis, I went with the truth. "Fred, I’m afraid that I can’t do this anymore." His look told me he had no idea what I was going on about. I couldn’t force another word from my mouth. Darla came over and put her arm around me. Somehow, that gave me strength. "Fred, I’m going to be a parent" ( I hedged). "I’m not sure if I’m going to have the time to devote to a rock-and-roll band," I finished. Darla wrapped both arms around me as I broke down in tears. Fred meanwhile remained silent. He wasn’t quite sure just what to make of any of this.

"Are you telling me you’re pregnant?" he asked at last. I so wanted to tell him everything. My feelings for this guy were somewhere beyond my comprehension. I could tell that he was upset. I wasn’t into guys, was I? He seemed like a lost injured puppy that needed saving. I wished that I could utter a few words to make it all better. Finally, I had to own up to who I was and what my situation was.

"Fred, I am fourteen years old. But, I’m going to be a father and I’m not sure if I’ll have the time to devote to a proper rock and roll band." My statement hung in the air like a lead balloon. Darla rubbed my back like I was the fifth runner up in the "maid of the mist" contest. Did she secretly want to get rid of me? A startling bass note escaped from his instrument. We all jumped. Silence ensued.

"Joan, I’m disappointed," he began. "Yes, I’ve always known that you were a boy." How did he know that? Did Darla tell him? "If I didn’t think you had the goods, I wouldn’t have bothered with you at all," he continued. OK, so I wasn’t a genetic girl. Still, I was every bit as talented as "the" Stevie Nicks; at least I felt that I was in my heart.

Fred came over and wrapped his arms around me. I was beyond confused. I loved Sam with all that was in my heart and I loved my children to be even more. Yet, I had feelings for this strange boy. I knew I couldn’t stay here with them. Darla eyed me jealously. Could I lose myself in Fred’s embrace? Yeah, I could. Could I allow myself to become lost in such a way; no I couldn’t. I felt so dirty, so confused.

"I’m sorry Fred," I said as I began putting my guitar back in its case. I thought Darla would join me, but she simply stood by and watched while I put my guitar away. I’d probably been right about her all along, I mused as I packed up my equipment. Damn, Darla too? I made my way to the stairs and began ascending them unimpeded.

I sat down on his front steps and buried my head in my hands. I tried desperately to cry but no tears were forthcoming. Perhaps I was all cried out? Just as I was about to begin the long journey home, Fred appeared. "Come on back downstairs Joan," he begged. "I don’t have anything else planned for the evening anyway."

I sat there for a few minutes considering my options. Sadly, I didn’t have many. I could go back downstairs to sing and play, or I could begin the long quiet journey home. He waited patiently for me to make up my mind. As I stood up and turned around to go back inside he grabbed me and kissed me. My knees nearly collapsed from his kiss. Rather than being repulsed, I waited expectantly for what was going to happen next. "Come on, let’s go and play a few tunes," he summoned me.

Before I knew it I was back in the basement. Darla seemed oblivious to everything that was going on. I smiled at her as I removed my guitar from its case. At least I knew now where I stood with her. I trusted her to not totally fuck me over as long as she was within my eyesight. That realization alone hurt me, and hurt me big-time. I used one of the many electronic tuners that Fred had lying around and put my instrument in perfect tune.

We began with "Dreams." "Thunder only happens when it’s raining,, players only love you when they’re playing." It’s funny, I sang that song with every fiber of my being but when I was finished I found that my focus had been on Darla and not anyone else. It was she that evinced all the emotions that I was capable of expressing.

Fred handed me the bass. OK, so it was a cheap one. It made no difference to me. I plucked a few notes and heard the gut wrenching sorrowful notes emitted and knew that the instrument was made for me. He began playing a tune that would make the angels cry. I wished that the words existed that would express the misery that I felt as those notes assaulted my brain.

I focused on the root of the chord he was playing. My plunking fit perfectly. Darla added a death march for percussion. Soon, Fred was singing: "The world was on fire and no one could save me but you." I knew this song. I’d never felt the total sadness of it before now. We finished up and Fred played the original by Chris Isaak. It didn’t take long for Darla and I to perfect the harmonies: ‘this world is only gonna break your heart.’

I almost felt like I was walking in a dream. I had no idea that he had such a melodious or deep voice. We tried the tune again. I really felt it this time and by the end I was a blubbering mess. When he sang the last line, I almost collapsed: "nobody loves no one," and then his fingers picked away the major chord string by string. I felt a strange sense of "up-lifting." It was as though he was singing to me. I had to shake myself repeatedly before I realized that I was an integral part of the sound that had emanated from the speakers.

The song ended and I found myself unable to resist. I put down the bass and ran over to him and gave him the biggest of hugs. For the first time in my life, I took the initiative and kissed a boy. I took the song to heart and told him not to worry, that I’d always love him. This was a moment spent on another plane of existence. Finally we disengaged from our embrace and I noticed that Darla was wearing a look that said "get out of my way or you’re a dead person."

I still heard the echo of those soulful chords struck note-by-note attacking my brain. It was perhaps the saddest song I’d ever heard. The lyrics kept assaulting my sensibilities. "strange what desire will make foolish people do." I knew exactly what the author was going on about. I then did a reality check. The author of that tune was Chris Isaak. He was a major hunk. He could have (most likely) any woman he set his sights on. I doubted that he’d ever experienced the pain felt by us "mere mortals."

"Let’s call it a night," Fred said. We’d gone over the five songs that we now knew. I never felt more alive than when I was playing songs with those two. "There’s a battle of the bands at St. Giuseppe’s in a few weeks. What say I enter us?" He added. A battle of the bands? Hell my largest audience heretofore had been the large accumulation of gulls on the beach.

Darla still seemed a bit out of sorts. I was more than a bit worried about her. Darla and Fred? Hell, nothing would make me happier. OK, so I laughed to myself. Anything to get her away from Sarah! We ended the evening with what had become our anthem: "Don’t Stop Thinking About Tomorrow!" I felt an extra tug of sadness as I packed my guitar away. Could I simply give up music? Just walk away. Fred made us promise to return for practice on Saturday. He had a few jobs lined up for us in a couple of weeks. Was he totally insane? Hell, we knew five songs.

I gave him a big hug and we kissed cooperatively. I worried for Darla as our lips parted. Darla was the sexiest lady I knew. It made no difference that she’d been born a boy. Damn, was life really supposed to be this hard?

I talked Fred into selling me a beginner’s bass and a practice amp for $75. I’d initially planned on offering him $100 but, I obviously needed the money more than he did. Darla helped me load my new acquisitions into the car. This time Aunt Viv didn’t say a word as we headed homeward.

We arrived at my house and I assured Aunt Vivian that I’d be over tomorrow evening. Then, it hit me. What had I done? Why was I kissing Fred? What if Sam found out? Oh my God! Was I just using Fred so he’d sell me stuff? I knew then and there that I had to call him. Darla seemed more than a bit annoyed with me when she left. What if she told Sam? My babies! I was shaken to my core. I had no idea why I was so attracted to Fred.

Hell, he made me feel safe and secure. He evoked feelings in me that I didn’t know were possible. But Sam! Sam was my life. We gave each other strength. He was the keeper of our babies. I went into panic mode as I dialed Fred’s number.

"Fred?" I asked when I heard someone pick up. "It’s me, Joan." I continued. "Fred what happened this evening can never happen again," I went on not sure of whom I was talking to. I heard him sigh and I went on. "Fred, I’ve been blessed with the greatest gift known to mankind. I’m going to be a parent! I’m sorry if you think I was leading you on. If you want all your equipment back, I’ll bring it over as soon as I can. Sam, that’s the babies’ mother, means everything to me. If she knew that I’d kissed you… several times… she’d probably go running off to an abortion clinic. There, I’ve given you a power over me that you didn’t have before. You can destroy my life with a phone call. Fred? I really am sorry. Under different circumstances…" my voice trailed off.

"Joan, it’s alright. It’s not me you have to worry about though. You’d better call Darla and make an impassioned plea to her sense of fair play. She seemed more than a bit put out by the way we were carrying on." So, he knew? Yet, he did nothing. Hell, it was all my fault. None of this would have ever happened but for me. Sam, while he could be a real jerk, would never betray me the way that I’d betrayed him. I couldn’t imagine feeling any lower than I already did. "Joan? It’s alright. And, I have to confess…{sighs}… I didn’t really know you were a boy. I just said that to save face."

"You really are talented. I love your voice, the way you play, your sense of timing. You’ve got all the goods. I really think we’ve got something here. And, this is just between you and me, Darla is adequate. Her playing is fair and her voice is fair. She’s simply adequate. You’d better call her up and square things away. Don’t worry about your babies. I’ll back you up 100% whatever you decide to do. Far more important than any personal relationship is our music. Didn’t you feel the way it all came alive for us when we were playing? There was a magic there. It’s a rare thing. I’ve only felt it once before in all the years I’ve been playing. I’ll see you on Saturday sweetheart," he said and hung up the phone.

Sweetheart, he called me sweetheart! But, I told him never to call me that again. Was it simply his way of letting me know that the rules to the game had been changed? Maybe he was trying to raise my ire? I finally realized; whatever a jerk he might be, Fred was my friend. It was closing in on ten o’clock as I called another friend.

"Darla?" I began tentatively. I could sense hesitation over the wire. "Darla, please don’t hang up," I begged. "Darl, I was wrong. I didn’t realize just how wrong till I put everything away inside the house. I just got off the phone with Fred. I didn’t realize that guys could be so understanding. He was a prince, plain and simple. I told him that what had transpired between us this evening could never happen again. He was accepting. He said that a band like ours happens very rarely (I embellished.) He said that the three of us made magic happen. He went on to say that nothing was more important to him than the band. If he hadn’t said what he said, I’d have quit. My heart, my life belongs to Sam and the twins. Darla, are we still friends?" I asked and waited.

Tears began streaming through the wire. "Joan! I’m sorry!" She said without explanation. I was too late. I should have called her first. How could she have called Sam in his fragile state? I took a deep breath.

"Sorry for what?" I asked as my insides rearranged themselves.

"I’m sorry I was such a bitch," she said. I nearly dropped the phone and fell on the floor. She hadn’t called Sam. Oh My God! I felt so lucky to be given another chance. I’d never let Sam down again. He was the father of my babies! My head was swimming!

"Darla! Darla! Darla! I’m the one that should be sorry. I’m not sure why what happened with Fred did happen. I guess a part of me feels like my life has been stolen from me. Another part, a far more important part is telling me that I’m the luckiest person ever to draw breath. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to protect my children."

"Joan, I love you," she said. God, I hoped that it was true. I wonder if she knew how much I loved her? I began weeping into the phone. I’d been unfaithful to the only person that had ever truly loved me. Who was I? I was no longer sure as our conversation continued.

"Darla, I’d never have found myself without your help," I blurted out. "You mean the world to me. I can’t imagine my life without you in it." I was free-associating. Darla was vitally important in my life. She’d helped me discover me. We truly were sisters. "Darla, I love you…"

She started getting hyper with me. Her enthusiasm for life made me laugh. "Do you think Fred would ever look at me romantically?" She asked at length.

"If he has a brain in his head, how could he not?" I replied honestly. Damn, she was putting aside things that she had witnessed hours earlier. This kind of friendship was a rarity. I loved her all the more for her words. "Darla, Fred’s a good guy, but it’s probably best if we just think of him as a band mate and nothing more," I finished.

She laughed playfully at my last retort. I wound up promising her that I’d quit if Fred attempted to recruit another drummer. Hell, Darla did such a magnificent job on the drums, I couldn’t believe that Fred would even think of auditioning others. "Promise me something?" I ended.

"What?" she asked

"Promise me that whatever happens that we’ll always be friends," I said at last. I could almost feel her smile through the wire. I felt at peace for the first time in a long time.

"I love you Joan, for better or for worse," she said at last. I gathered the significance of that last phrase. My spirit lit to the core. I doubted the words existed that would let me tell her what she meant to me. This strange person had turned my world upside down. I ached for her happiness almost as much as my own.

"Darla! I love you too!" I informed her. How could she possibly doubt it? We were inexorably linked. She would always be my sister. I would always care for her. Nothing, no one, would ever change that.

We talked for awhile longer about inanities and I finally made my exit. I had two painting jobs tomorrow and I had to get some sleep. My painting career had suddenly become much more than a part-time job. The money would be needed for my family.

"Joan?" Aunt Melissa began as I put the phone back in its cradle. "We have to talk" She finished. Now what? I thought as I exited my former bedroom. "Joan, I’m not sure if you’re aware of the role I played today at the doctor’s office." I was more than aware, I was beyond grateful. Did Aunt Melissa need some kind of recognition? Is that what this was about?

"Aunt Melissa, it’s late and I’m pretty tired," I began. I could tell by the look in her eyes that she wasn’t going to be put off so easily. "I do have TWO jobs tomorrow," I continued.

"Joan, you do want those babies, don’t you?" She began. Did I want my babies? How could she even ask such a question? I stood up as straight and tall as I could before her. I’m sure she could tell that I’d have demolished her from this existence if she asked such a question again. I was furious. Strange, I’d never felt such an outpouring of emotions about anything before. I could have easily sliced her and diced her and put her in the produce bin.

"Joan, you do realize that Sam’s in a very fragile state?" She continued. Like I didn’t know that! Tell me something that I don’t know. I knew in my heart that Aunt Mel was trying to be helpful. It made me love her all the more. In many ways I was just a kid. In more than a few other ways I felt timeless. Like I’d been alive forever. I was safe: my love was safe; my babies were safe. Nothing else in this world mattered to me.

"Aunt Melissa," I started. "I do realize that I’m the luckiest person in the universe," I finished. "The love of my life is pregnant with my children! I realize the significance and the import of all that. No one on this planet deserves to be as happy as I’m feeling at this very moment."

She hugged me tight. We began swaying to and fro in the air. "Child, poor child," she muttered repeatedly. "This could be the greatest thing that ever happened to someone, or it could be the ultimate disaster," she said at last.

I couldn’t imagine how the birth of my babies could be anything other than a blessed event. Yes, I knew it wouldn’t be any walk in the park. The overwhelming sense of responsibility would be difficult, to say the least. These were "my" children: mine! No harm would ever come to them. I hugged her tighter. Perhaps she was in need of reassurance? I only knew that I loved this woman. I hated that fate had kept us apart. I wished that she’d stay around and be a part of all of our lives forever.

"Aunt Melissa, I have been blessed by the Gods. I have abilities and talents that will see me through this lifetime. I am to be a parent to two children. My life up until now has been a great introduction for what is to come. If I am overwhelmed with anything, it is with joy. No one should be as happy as I am right now. It’s more than most could bear." The pressure I was exerting ceased. I slowly began to crumble in her embrace.

Her tears began to flow as she hugged me tighter. In my mind I was begging her to stay. I knew that we all needed her here as a stabilizing force. How could I make her see just how important she was in all of our lives?

Aunt Melissa kissed me gently once above each eyebrow. I’d have deferred to her wisdom had she requested anything of me. It’s to her credit that she didn’t. Her only desire was for our happiness. I knew that I’d try anything to keep her here with us. This woman who had waltzed into our lives a few short weeks ago seemed to have all the answers. Or, if not the answers, the wherewithal to gather them.

We held each other in close embrace for awhile longer. Finally, she marched me down to my "bedroom." "Joan, I am beyond blessed to have you for a niece. I’ll do everything in my power to see that it all turns out for the good." She said and made her way gingerly from my room.

It felt like a permanent smile had been etched in my face. I set my alarm clock and attempted to close my eyes. So many thoughts were pervading my spirit. Sam? Darla? Fred? and yes, even Aunt Melissa. Mom and Aunt Alice were always there, no extraneous thoughts required. But most of all my mind kept turning back to the twins. TWINS! I ran through dozens of possible life scenarios in a matter of moments.

I’d never prayed before letting my thoughts drift off. I found myself thanking God for all the gifts she had bestowed upon me. I felt truly blessed as I drifted off to sleep…

Notes:

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Synopsis:

Reality sets in as Joan is forced to carefully examine her current life and potential future. What will they all decide in the face of seemingly overwhelming obstacles?

Story:

Chapter 23

Wouldn’t It Be Nice?

Thursday morning. Was it really Thursday already? I marveled that my entire life had been turned upside down in the span of a few days. I got up and made myself ready for work. I had two jobs scheduled for today and one for tomorrow. I’d have to start pushing harder to find more work. There would be no more "toys" for me.

In the back of my mind I thought that my "savings" would provide me with a certain amount of freedom. At the very least, I’d be able to get a decent car when I turned sixteen. Now? Well, now I knew that every penny would go to support my family. Could Sam and I handle this transition? Hell, I’d all but promised to care for the kids 24/7. Still, if I did that when would I work? When would I go to school? Never mind the idea of being a rock star.

OK, so I was scared shitless as the reality of the situation hit home. What under the right circumstances could be the most fantastic thing to happen to two people could simply turn out to be a total disaster to my own existence. Still, a part of me found a new reason for living in all of this. I’d never felt so alive.

I turned on the cold water in the shower in an attempt to shake myself out of my reverie. Daydreaming wasn’t going to accomplish anything. A lone thought kept popping into my head. Perhaps it was time to put away thoughts of actually becoming "Joan." My new responsibilities were of enormous proportions and I wasn’t sure that being "Joan" was in their best interests. Could I be that selfless even if it was true?

I finally calmed myself down when I realized something. My babies needed a mother. Despite the fact that Sam would be giving birth to them there was no way that he’d ever fill the bill. I vowed to be the best mother that the world had ever known. I greeted myself in the mirror with a forced smile. I put on a minimal amount of makeup and headed downstairs for some breakfast.

The Reyser job turned out to be a big one. It always amazed me what people thought sixty dollars would buy. I guessed they were just trying to see what they could get for their money. No one ever balked at my price estimates. I’m not sure if it was the way I was now carrying myself or what, but people seemed to be treating me with more respect than they had in the past. I guess I no longer had that "little girl lost in the woods" look about me. I was a shrewd businesswoman.

I finished up the second job and made my way back home. As it turned out it wasn’t critical that I get that "fourth" job for the week, but I was going to do my best. I had to put at least two hundred a week away for the kids. Could I keep up that pace once school started? I started thinking that I shouldn’t have bought the Martin. I knew Mom would never come across with the two hundred and fifty she promised. Under the circumstances, I certainly wasn’t going to ask her for it. My plan to acquire toys was abandoned before it’d ever hit full swing.

I found myself wondering what was going through Sam’s head. Was his only concern whether or not he’d get to play on Saturday? Was I turning into a resentful shrew before our journey had even begun? I made my way into the house and went upstairs to put my money away. Two hundred dollars for one day’s work. It would have taken me almost two weeks of sanding to earn that much money. Mr. Ferris had done me a favor.

I hit the shower and removed the bits of latex that had adhered to various parts of my body. I had to find some way to clear all these thoughts from my head. I was beginning to go into overload on all the events taking place in my life. The warm stream slowly brought me back to life. I was making myself presentable when I began to worry about my meeting with Aunt Vivian this evening. So far, she hadn’t said a word to me.

Aunt Melissa was busily involved in making dinner when I went downstairs. It smelled out of this world. She was making orange flavored chicken. At least, that’s what it smelled like. I thought I’d take a new tack with her and asked: "Auntie M, is there enough food for me to invite Sam over?" She laughed at the "Wizard of Oz" reference and told me there was more than enough for Sam and Aunt Alice. I made a quick phone call and invited them both for supper.

The entire setting was just a bit bizarre. Sam and Aunt Alice arrived just as I was finishing setting the table. Everyone was acting like it was just another day. How was that possible? I ran up to Sam and gave him an "extra-special" hug. He smelled so fresh and perfect. How he could not have known that he was pregnant was beyond me. Wishful thinking perhaps? I wished that I was better prepared for all that was about to happen. Sam was about to make himself a gin and tonic when I stopped him dead in his tracks. "Sam, the babies!" I screamed. He looked at me like I was nuts but thankfully poured himself a diet coke instead.

Mom came sauntering in the door and seemed genuinely pleased that everyone was there. She began her normal routine of a drink and a smoke when I told her that smoking was no longer allowed in the house. I wasn’t making any friends here. For a moment she looked like she was going to challenge me, but in the end she gently stroked my face with her hand. I decided that I’d do my best not to be a total nut case about the whole thing.

Maybe Sam’s appetite had finally been explained? He was eating for three! I waited till everyone had taken what they wanted before selecting a few pieces for myself. Sadly, money was an issue. Sam seemed in high spirits that evening. He’d thrown from the mound that afternoon with no ill effects. "I’m sure I can pitch Saturday if they need me," he said. "But coach won’t use me again in another position. He said I’m too valuable to the team as a pitcher."

For awhile I guess I’d been a bit jealous of Sam’s success at baseball. Now, well now I was just worried for my family. I did my best to block out thoughts of him getting injured during a game. At least he wasn’t into football, I thought and laughed aloud garnering a few curious looks. Dinner was over and Sam offered to help me with the clean up. I insisted that he remain seated. I guess I was turning into a bit of a nut case.

The conversation continued until it was time for us to leave. I felt a knot begin to form in the pit of my stomach as we made our way to the Raspberrys. For some reason I felt as though I’d let Aunt Vivian down. I had no idea WHY I felt that way, I just did. Mom dropped me off and left when she saw that I was safely inside. Aunt Vivian ushered me into the kitchen.

She poured us some coffee and sat down across from me. I removed a cigarette from my purse, lighted it, and inhaled deeply. "So, a lot has happened to you over the last few weeks," she began in an attempt to draw me out. Talk about an understatement! My entire world had been turned upside down in the past several days. "You know, for awhile there I was worried about you and Fred. I guess I don’t have to do that anymore?" She eyed me intently, looking for clues.

"Aunt Vivian, Fred is just a friend. Besides, I don’t really know him that well," I finished.

"It seems you know him well enough to kiss him passionately?" She stated in an inquisitive mode. So, Darla had discussed our goings on with her mother. Great! I sighed aloud.

"Aunt Viv, what happened between Fred and me was a mistake. If I thought it was going to happen again, I’d quit the band right now. I’m not really sure why I kissed him. I’ve never been kissed by a boy before. It was a strange, but not unpleasant feeling. Still, it will never happen again," I said authoritatively.

"And what do you plan on doing about Sam?" What was with her this evening? Usually she’d just let me ramble in any direction I chose to go. This evening she seemed to have an agenda.

"Sam!" I could feel my eyes light up. "No one or nothing is more important to me in this universe," I said.

"And just how do you plan on supporting your family?" Why did I have the feeling that she was attacking me? I couldn’t see any reason not to respond, so I did.

"Aunt Vivian, I know I’m only fourteen years old. I know that these aren’t the best of circumstances. Still, this is probably the only chance I’ll ever have to become a genetic parent. I know for a fact that I can earn a few hundred dollars a week at my job," I finished.

"And you think you can support a husband and two babies on a couple of hundred a week?" I was near tears. I thought she was here to help me? Did she think I was unaware of the extreme challenge that lay ahead? For a moment I considered running away. Maybe she’d been right initially? Maybe we were too close to have a "Doctor/patient" relationship.

"Aunt Vivian, would you prefer it if I sought out another therapist?" I asked as the tears burst forth. I began wondering if my therapist needed a therapist.

"Joan, you make me so proud of you in so many ways. You handle most situations like an adult. And then, you do this…" Her voice trailed off and we both lapsed into silence.

"I can’t go back and change the past. What would you recommend; an abortion? That was a rhetorical question. I’m not seeking your opinion. Those are my babies and god help the person that gets in the way." I felt truly righteous. I may not be able to give my children all the "things" that money could buy, but I’d give them more love than they could handle.

"I’m sorry if I seem a bit abrupt with you this evening. I had to make sure that your head was on straight and that you had your priorities in order. I’m sure you’ll make an excellent mother," she said as her voice began to warm. I heaved another sigh of relief. She certainly had a strange way of showing me how much she cared.

I found myself wishing that I was the one that was pregnant for another reason. I knew I could handle the whole experience better than Sam could. Still, he was smart, and he was strong. I wasn’t really worried about him.

"I was doing a bit of research earlier. Did you know that you and Sam can get married with parental approval?" I looked down at my wedding ring. I felt like telling her that Sam and I were already married. Part of me found the idea attractive. Would Sam marry me for real? Hell, I’m only fourteen! I felt like screaming. Would he and I wind up like our own parents in another twenty years? Hell, in less than that time I’d have two children thinking about their college education. My cool facade was developing some serious cracks.

"I’m not sure if Sam would marry me," I said sadly.

"Well, don’t you think you should ask him?" Why was she pressuring me so? I thought I’d come over here and find a bit of release. Now, I felt more wound-up then I had been when I woke up this morning. Our hour ended and Mom came waltzing into the kitchen.

"Well, did you manage to talk any sense into her?" Mom asked. So that’s what this was about? And here I thought I’d had Mom’s support. I finally felt defeated. There was no way we could do this without the support of all of our loved ones.

"Clara," Aunt Vivian began. Addressing her that way caught Mom’s attention. "Joan and Sam need all the help we can give them." Every moment brought with it a new surprise. Half an hour ago I thought that Aunt Vivian was my worst enemy.

"Mom," I thought aloud. "There’s no way we can do this without your help." Had I been kidding myself thinking that I had my mother’s support? "I’m so sorry Mom. But, don’t you see? It’s a blessing in a way. This is the only way that I’ll ever be able to have children," I said thinking of a time when the hormones would leave me sterile.

"Joan, that’s not necessarily true," Aunt Vivian opined. "You could have your semen frozen for later use." OK, so I already knew that. Was I the only anti-abortion person that I knew?

"Sweetheart, we could bank your sperm and then when the time was right you could have a family with the right person," Mom said. How could rational people even have this discussion? If we couldn’t keep our own babies at the very least we could offer them up for adoption. And, that would happen over my own dead body. I had to maintain control. If I crumbled now it would just be a further indicator that I was in no way ready to become a parent.

"Mom, Aunt Viv, I’m aware of sperm banks and the possibility of artificial insemination. However, my babies are alive and well and growing inside of Sam. I have no idea how we could do this without your help. I don’t even know if Sam would be willing to try. I can promise you this though, if you insist on an abortion, you’ll lose me forever. This is not a joke. I’m not overreacting. This is plain and simple: life and death."

I lit another cigarette and walked outside. I thought about waiting for Mom, but realized that I had to get away from there. Halfway home I threw the cigarette away and began running. I had to get to Sam. Minutes later I was pounding on his front door. It took awhile, but finally he answered.

"Sam, you’re all right!" I screamed and hugged him tight. He looked at me like I’d gone round the bend.

"Why wouldn’t I be alright?" He asked seriously.

"Sam, will you marry me?" I blurted out of nowhere. I knew if I stopped and thought about it that I’d never have had the courage to ask him. He nuzzled my head into his shoulder.

"Shhhhhhh, Joan baby, it’s all right," he said smiling. "We’re already married, aren’t we?" He asked and held me tighter. I felt myself totally losing control. "Joan, of course I’ll marry you. If you hadn’t asked me, I was going to ask you.." I felt my pulse begin to soften. He loved me as much as I did him. We’d make a fantastic family. Our children would be perfect!

"Joan, I already have my mother’s written permission, do you have yours?"

He was full of surprises this evening. Hell, I didn’t even know it was a possibility before hearing Aunt Vivian explain it all. "No Sam, not yet," I said. "But, she’ll sign the forms or lose me and her grandchildren forever," I said with all the conviction I could muster.

Hopefully Mom was just overwhelmed with everything. Perhaps Aunt Melissa could help. How would I have ever handled any of this if she hadn’t been here. And, what would happen to everything when she left. She seemed to have a way about her. Mom was so much more relaxed when she was around. I had to get this all worked out and soon.

Sam and I hugged for a few minutes more. This time I did manage to rub his belly. I couldn’t get over the fact that there were two babies inside of him. We kissed goodnight and I headed back home. Thankfully, Mom hadn’t made it back yet. I needed to talk to Aunt Melissa alone. She was sitting in the living room petting the dog and watching the ten o’clock news when I walked in.

"How’s my favorite niece this evening?" She asked me with a smile.

"I’m fine Aunt Melissa but I’m worried about Mom. I thought she was OK with Sam’s pregnancy, but now I get the feeling that she’d rather we went the abortion route." A sudden silence ensued. She turned off the television and went and poured herself a drink. A thick plume of smoke filled the air as if out of nowhere.

"Well, what did you expect her to do? Dance a jig? Her fourteen year old son wants to be a girl and now "he" wants to be a mother as well. Don’t look at me like that. I’m not saying this to hurt you. Your mother just wants what’s best for you. You have to have an inkling about how hard it will be with two more babies in the household? I’ll grant you I’ve never in my life met a youngster as responsible as you are. It almost doesn’t make sense that you would have been so careless when it came to sex."

"Joan, I know for a fact that your mother is not in favor of abortion. She never has been. She was a major supporter of mine when I gave birth to your cousin. And yes, she was exactly the age you are now. Perhaps she just needs a slight reminder. I’ve never been a Great Aunt before." She laughed.

"Aunt Melissa, Sam and I can get married with Mom’s written approval. Sam already has permission from Aunt Alice. I know it sounds crazy, and I know we’re only fourteen, but I want our kids to start out on the right foot. Besides, if I was older, I’d marry Sam in a heartbeat if he’d have me. This obviously isn’t a puppy love kind of thing. I’ve loved him all my life. Everything about him is magic. And the way he makes me feel. He makes me feel like there’s nothing that I can’t do. When he’s around I feel this extra strength well up inside of me. I wish I could find the words…"

"You’ve done pretty good with the words there kiddo. Believe it or not, I know just how you feel. Now you stop worrying about everything, I’ll talk to your mother." She laughed. "Besides, I kind of like the idea of her being a grandmother before me. Holy Cow! She’ll be a thirty six year old grandmother. Speaking of your mother, where is she?"

"I left her at Darla’s and walked home. I guess she’ll be along soon. You don’t think she’s going to call my father to tell him, do you?" Something else to worry about. I was pretty confident of the relationship that I was establishing with Doreen. Perhaps Dad wouldn’t be such a problem after all. Besides, this would give him grandchildren that he’d otherwise never have.

"Don’t worry about your father, Joan. Your mother has things all worked out with him." I had no idea just what that meant. I went upstairs and got myself ready for bed.

It was closing in on eleven o’clock when Mom came through the front door. I only had the one job lined up for tomorrow. I wondered how Sarah was doing with sawdust in her pores? I’d bet she only took that job cause she thought she was taking it away from me. An evil smile crossed my face. Aunt Melissa’s voice snapped me back into reality.

"I think you should let the kids get married," she said. Fourteen years old and married. It almost seemed silly. Like we were two kids in a science fiction novel whose job was to repopulate the earth. Mom seemed just a bit confused by everything that had been happening lately.

"Is that what you want, Joan?" Mom asked and waited. "Do you have any idea how expensive it will be to transition into womanhood? And now here you are on the verge of becoming a parent. Does all of this strike you as somewhat absurd?" Mom may be walking a fine line of sanity, but at least she had a good grip on what was going on.

"Mom, I wouldn’t have chosen to have kids now. I realize that in a lot of ways I’m still one myself. I won’t lie to you though and tell you that I’m not excited about the prospect of sharing my life with Sam and the twins. I love him, Mom. I’m pretty sure that Aunt Viv will back me up with regard to my maturity level. We can do this, but it will have to be a team effort. Sam and I will need everyone’s support. I know it won’t be easy. Are you ready to welcome the son into the family that I never could be?"

"Joan, I’ve always thought of Sam as my own, you of all people ought to know that?"

We lapsed into silence. I made my way into the kitchen and decided to make hot chocolate for everyone. I smiled as I thought that Aunt Melissa would be attending two weddings during her visit home. I poured the mix into the cups while I waited for the water to boil. I heard Mom’s voice out in the living room. She was telling Aunt Mel that she wished her mother were here. I knew Grandma would be here in a few weeks for Melissa’s wedding. It would be a rare visit home for her. I don’t know why she and Granddad had never been a bigger part of our lives.

I brought out the hot chocolate and the ladies accepted it appreciatively. Mom lit a cigarette and looked up at me challengingly. I smiled at her and lit one myself. Funny, she never asked me where I got them from. A few weeks ago smoking had been one of the most important things going on in my life. Yes, it was all just a bit absurd. I sat there and tried to assimilate all of the information that had been presented to me in the last week. I needed to start formulating a plan.

"And here I thought I was just coming home for Melissa’s wedding," Aunt Mel said and laughed.

"So much has changed in the last few months I don’t even recognize my life anymore," Mom said and started crying. Aunt Melissa and I did our best to comfort her. I wasn’t ready to examine Mom’s words too closely though. She was right.

We stayed up for another hour or so and talked of another wedding. A simple civil ceremony. One that would raise more than a few eyebrows in the community. I went to sleep hugging Josam and Teddy. One for each of the twins.

Notes:

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Synopsis:

Joan and Sam make plans for their upcoming nuptials. In the end she receives an unexpected proposal...

Story:

Chapter 24

Chapel of Love

Friday morning, I awoke feeling refreshed. Sam was going to marry me! Holy Cow! How did that happen? Sometime in February our babies would be born. Hm? On Valentine’s Day? Was I living some kind of fairy tale?

Shandy and I jumped all over each other for the longest time. I’m sure she had no idea why I was so happy. Likewise, I had no clue as to her own state of bliss either. I let her out into the back yard. She was out the door like a shot. Being the first one up, I put on a pot of coffee.

I ran upstairs and hit the shower. I simply couldn’t stop smiling. Whenever I was this happy I intuitively braced myself for disaster. I was going to have to start thinking of wedding plans. Sure, we could have waited till Christmas time or beyond for that matter, but why? Yes, I could think of one very good reason to "wait" but I wasn’t going to let my mind take a trip down that road. I wasn’t sure what time the rest of the house was getting up, so I ate some cereal, drank my coffee, made a sandwich, and out the door I went.

The Barclays lived a few miles away on the poor side of town, if such a thing could be said to exist here. Mrs. Barclay, an elderly lady, seemed very happy to see me. Maybe she was simply responding to the smile stuck on my own face? The job she wanted done was no sixty dollar job. I looked at her torn housecoat and the overall state of affairs and decided to "give something back."

I finished up around one o’clock and Mrs. B offered me lunch. I’m guessing she knew it was no sixty dollar job either. I refused her kind offer and told her I had other engagements. She thanked me for doing such excellent work and promised that I’d be the only one doing her painting from now on. I couldn’t help but laugh at her comment. I left their home and headed to the print shop. My business cards were ready. "Painting by Joan" in a bold fancy script across the front of the card. The red splash of paint in the upper left hand corner made all the difference. I was optimistically excited as I left the store.

Next stop: Hospin’s Paint Center. Mr. Hospin greeted me with a big smile. Told me he’d just got off the phone with Mrs. Barclay. Said she wouldn’t stop raving about my work. Maybe I’d done the right thing after all. I removed a few dozen cards from the box and handed them to him ceremoniously. His eyes lit up when he saw them.

"You know Joan, everyone has a special gift. It may not seem like much to you at your tender age, but you were born to paint." I smiled sadly in return. I began to wonder if I’d ever get a chance to fulfill any of my dreams. My own wood-shop, the band, etc. Hell, I hadn’t really begun to live. There wasn’t any time to worry about such things now. Mr. Hospin smiled at me and handed me a list of fresh prospects. Maybe I could line up a few jobs for the weekend.

I got home around three. Even with the way I’d been hitting my account, after I made a fresh deposit I’d still have over a thousand in it. I began thinking about my wedding. Would Mom help me make a wedding gown? Would my father even come? Did I want him there? Life seemed to be getting more complicated by the day. I thought about the twins and realized that it was getting complicated in a "good" way.

I found Aunt Melissa sitting at the kitchen table, having a coffee and a smoke and talking to someone. Her Aussie accent was in full swing so I guessed it was someone from home. Not one to intrude, I nodded hello, poured myself a cup and went out to the picnic table.

I wondered if we could have something of a reception in the backyard. I closed my eyes and saw the chinese lanterns hanging everywhere, a big tent in the far back, and flowers, lots and lots of fresh flowers. Would Sam be amenable to such a gathering? If you’d told me six months ago that I’d be the bride in a wedding this summer, I’d have asked you what you were smoking.

I crossed the street and knocked on my beloved’s front door. Aunt Alice greeted me and told me that she expected Sam home at any minute. I gulped noisily when she told me to call her "Mom." I pinched my left arm with my right hand. Nope, I wasn’t dreaming. I asked her about her thoughts for a wedding. She told me she didn’t really care as long as the two of us were together. I was really amazed by her attitude. I began to worry whether she had plans of selling the house and moving away. I couldn’t bring myself to ask her if that was the case. I shook it off as being nonsense.

Sam arrived home as "Mom’ and I sat at the kitchen table discussing wedding plans. "Tommy can’t pitch tomorrow. He threw out his shoulder during practice. So, I got the go ahead!" He seemed a bit too happy that one of his teammates had been injured.

"We were just discussing wedding plans," I said.

"Yeah, about that," he said. Uh oh! Was something wrong? "Joan, I just want to make sure you understand, when the babies are born, I’m choosing their names." I figured we had plenty of time to worry about names for the babies, so I decided to say nothing. "While we’re on the subject of names, what say you change your last name to mine since I’m going to be the man of the house anyway?"

This had been totally unexpected. Joan Peters? I knew my father would disown me if I went along with that idea. Then again, if he saw me wearing a wedding gown, he’d probably hate me forever anyway. Did I really care about my last name? John Joan Johnson, the name I was born with. I wasn’t sure I was ready to give that up.

"What say we both just keep our own names?" I asked.

"All right, but the babies are going to have my last name," he added belligerently. Again with the babies’ names. The babies were seven months away. I wasn’t going to get into a pissing contest over the babies’ names. He could be such a "guy" sometimes. I sighed aloud.

"It’s settled then," he said with finality.

"Sweetheart, if it’s that important to you, then so be it." I said magnanimously.

He held me tight and rubbed my back as if I was the one that was pregnant. Was I getting weaker or was he getting stronger? I figured with all the painting I’d been doing that I should be maintaining muscle tone at least. Still, I felt like I was falling behind somehow. He begged me to come to his game tomorrow. I had to refuse. I had band practice. That seemed to piss him off more than just a bit. I promised him that the next time he pitched, I’d be there.

I felt a bit guilty and invited him over for dinner, yet again. He smiled down at me. He was never one to refuse free food; especially if Aunt Melissa was doing the cooking. Damn, if he didn’t seem to be growing taller. Maybe I was shrinking? I told him I’d expect him over in one hour and ran home to help Aunt Mel get everything ready.

She was off the phone when I arrived and was fussing with her "secret" recipe for "beef merlot." I was going to have to find some time for her to show me a few recipes. The lady really knew her way around a kitchen. I put the dinner rolls in the oven and prepared the salads. We worked together in perfect harmony. She wouldn’t be leaving for three weeks yet, but I was missing her already.

"Aunt Melissa, would you mind if Sam and I got married before Danny and Melissa?" I had to ask. She put down the pot she was holding, removed her oven mitt and came over and gave me a hug. "I know this is all so sudden," I continued. Come Monday I’d have to look into the marriage license, etc. Sam and I were really going to do this! I felt absolutely giddy.

I found myself re-thinking the whole name thing. Would I really want to have a different last name from that of my children? "Joan Peters," sounded rather nice, didn’t it? Besides, Mom changed her name when she got married. I just wanted to be with Sam. I got lost for a few minutes dreaming about going to bed with him each and every night. OMG! Was that really going to happen? Maybe our mothers would have other ideas. I sighed again. I had to find out just what Mom and Aunt Alice (I’d never get used to calling her "Mom") had in mind by allowing Sam and I to wed.

Ours would be the happiest family ever to live in Ocean Township. I excused myself from the kitchen and ran upstairs to make a few phone calls. Apparently, I’d been getting good press. Three calls made, and three jobs lined up; two on Sunday and one for next Monday. Making money wasn’t supposed to be this easy, was it? I ran back downstairs and set the table in the dining room. Sam was beginning to become a regular dinner fixture around our house.

I poured myself a small glass of wine and made my way into the backyard. A few moments alone to drink and smoke. Was I simply pretending to be an adult? No one had put any limits on my behavior since Dad left. Was that a good thing? Sometimes I thought that I worried too much. This was one of those times. I finished my wine and my cigarette and made my way back into the kitchen. Aunt Melissa corralled me and put me back to work.

She smiled at me as I worked diligently in the kitchen following her orders to the letter. She said that I reminded her of Melissa in so many ways. I was totally flattered by her words. My eyes began welling up with tears.

"What’s wrong child?" She asked me seriously.

"I was just thinking that in a few more weeks you’ll be leaving," I said as my eyes continued to leak.

"Don’t you be worrying about that now. You’ve got two weddings to prepare for!" Her statement totally brought me around. I began to feel guilty and worry that I had no right to be so happy. I began to wonder why I associated happiness with disaster? Maybe Aunt Vivian would have some answers for me with regards to that question.

Mom arrived home in a joyous mood. She dropped her bag in our modest foyer and gave me a huge hug. "So, when’s the date?" She asked me as she smothered me in kisses. I couldn’t believe it! This was really going to happen. Once again I drifted off into a state of semi-consciousness. Sam and Joan were fighting and I did my best to separate them and lull them into a good mood. They were such good kids. Slowly, my daydream faded.

"I love you Mommy!" I squealed with delight. "Sam’s coming over for dinner. We have to make sure that the twins are getting enough to eat," I added and laughed. Where were all these thoughts coming from? Were they courtesy of the two milligrams of estradiol valerate I was taking daily?

"Mom! We have to get to the fabric store tomorrow. I need a wedding gown!" She smiled with me and cooed with excitement. I was going to be a bride in a wedding. YIKES! The fact that I was a newly minted "fourteen year old" kept nipping at the back of my mind. Hell, Sam and I weren’t cousins and this wasn’t Arkansas (sorry to all of you that live there!)

Sam came strolling in unannounced and headed straight to the "bar." Once again I cut him off at the pass and persuaded him that the last thing the babies needed was alcohol. I began worrying about his actions when I wasn’t around to make sure he behaved himself. I was never a fan of "magical transformations," but I’d have given anything to have the twins in my care.

Sam lost himself in his diet coke and waited for his dinner to be served. Aunt Melissa and Mom became engrossed in conversation and serving up the food became my job. I brought out the salads and the large variety of dressings and dinnertime began. Before Sam could utter a word I had the fresh dinner rolls and the butter served as well. I still couldn’t get over how much he ate.

If he continued to eat like this I’d have to start chipping in for groceries. I smiled a grateful smile as I realized I was simply glad that I’d be able to do so. Sam seemed oblivious to all going on around him. "Damn, I wish I could see you pitch tomorrow," I said and meant it. I was sure that a new level of nervousness would apply since I learned of the circumstances under which he was pitching.

"So, Sam are you going to rent a tuxedo for the wedding? Perhaps it would make more sense to buy one since you are going to be an usher in Melissa’s wedding as well?" Mom asked.

Sam seemed too involved with his food to give any consideration to the questions being asked of him. "Whatever you think is best Mom," he said as he bit into another piece of beef. I knew I loved him more than life itself. The fact that he was carrying my babies made the allure that much stronger. Yet sometimes, sometimes he gave me pause. He was smart, he was talented, he had a certain physical prowess, still, his overall grasp on reality didn’t seem to exceed his ability to fork up another mouthful of beef. Was I worrying needlessly?

Dinner ended and I cleared the table and did the dishes. I was getting spoiled by the variety and quality of the food that Aunt Melissa prepared on a daily basis. She should have her own restaurant. I wondered idly for a moment if she’d ever given that idea any consideration. For someone whose financial future seemed dubious at best, I was still filled with dreams of grandeur.

At least the cost of Sam’s pregnancy would be covered by Aunt Alice’s health insurance. There had been a bit of arguing with the service provider, but since Sam was a named insured, they decided to honor the contract. I didn’t even want to think about how expensive it would be to have babies without insurance.

I served up coffee to the ladies at the dinner table and begged Mom to take me to the fabric store when she was ready. If I was going to get married next weekend, we’d better get a move on. It seemed impossible. Could we really stage this entire thing in a week’s time? I reasoned that people eloped all the time with no plans whatsoever. Still, there wouldn’t be any time for formal wedding invitations or much else for that matter. Could I call my father and invite him up?

I considered that for a bit and decided that it would probably be best to tell him after the fact. Though he wasn’t handy in any sense of the word, he’d probably do his best to throw a wrench in the works. Besides, me in a wedding gown, getting married, and changing my last name to Sam’s own would probably be more than he could handle. I wished things were different. I wished my father could be there for me. Still, asking him to give the bride away would probably give him a heart attack.

"Well Joan, do you want to go pick out a pattern for your gown, or don’t you?" Mom asked, shaking me out of my reverie. I smiled broadly and grabbed my purse. The three of us "ladies" piled into Mom’s car and we drove off to Fabricland. Sam absolutely refused to come with us. Said he was going to watch some television and turn in early. I made him promise me that we’d spend tomorrow night together before we headed out the door.

I picked out a simple dress pattern. Though, it did have a veil, there would be no train trailing behind me. It was simplistically elegant.

"I guess you won’t be wearing white," Aunt Melissa said and laughed.

"What do you mean?" I started and then it hit me. "This is my wedding and I will too be wearing white!" I said and ran over to Mom who was already checking out the fabric selections. She found the perfect material; white satin and lace. I began to feel just a bit self-conscious about the whole thing. Mom held the material up against my tanned body and told me it would make the prettiest gown imaginable. I hugged her tight and then told her that I’d need a pair of white patent leather pumps. She laughed in reply and promised that we’d get them.

We finished our shopping and headed on home. The ladies seemed pleased with my selections. I felt as if I was living in a dream. Mom assured me that the dress would be ready for my wedding a week from Sunday. She had another surprise for me. It seemed the mayor, Marcia White, had stopped in the library during the afternoon and Mom asked her if she would preside over the ceremonies. This was all happening so fast!

The three of us gathered round the kitchen table. I served coffee and cake and sat down to join in on the planning. "Mom, I’ve got a question for you?" I began. She waited expectantly. "How come Grandma and Grandpa hardly ever come around? They only live about a hundred miles away." I stopped and waited.

Mom cast a furtive glance at Aunt Melissa. Her eyes seemed pleading. I could read that look, it said: "should I tell her?" Mom sighed aloud and began. "Joan, the main reason we’ve not seen much of my parents over the years is that they had no use for your father. There were words between your Dad and mine on our wedding day. I’ve only seen them twice in the last fifteen years though your grandmother writes to me quite often. Maybe now would be a good time to mend fences?"

Yes, I had grandparents that I wouldn’t recognize in a crowd of six. Maybe they forgot I was a boy named John and would simply accept me as their granddaughter? I couldn’t figure out why I felt this need to have everyone like me, love me. "Invite them to the wedding next Sunday," I begged Mom.

She looked at me as if she wanted to comply, but wasn’t sure that she could. "Don’t worry Joan, I’ll take care of it," Aunt Melissa said. For a moment I forgot that they were her parents too. It was getting late and I did have chores and band practice tomorrow so, I bade everyone goodnight.

I fell asleep envisioning myself in my bridal gown with Sam standing straight and tall beside me wearing a tuxedo. It was an idyllic image. I truly was the luckiest girl in the world.

Saturday morning I was the first to awaken and began doing my chores immediately. While the first load of laundry cooked, I scrubbed and mopped the kitchen floor. It was still too early to make noise with the lawn mower. I boxed myself in with the mop and headed back down to the basement to start another load. Damn, I felt special that morning.

I thought about getting information on sperm banks. I wanted to get that taken care of before I started mega-dosing with the hormones. Maybe Sam would want more children someday? The only thing that made me feel sad was the realization that my wedding gown would be stuffed with breast forms instead of "just me." I wore the things all the time anymore as if they were just another necessary article of clothing. In fact, I felt kind of naked when I removed them. It was a weird feeling for sure. Still, I’d be happy to have them gone.

Eight o’clock finally arrived and I headed outside to mow the lawns; yes, lawns. Sam was going to get the summer off from that particular chore. I hoped he appreciated it. I did all the trimming and weed-whacking as well. It was after ten by the time I was finished. I felt good! I ran in the house and took a cold shower. Cold showers always hit the spot on hot summer days.

When I was finished I heard faint stirrings coming from the bedrooms, so I headed back to the kitchen and began preparing a big breakfast. A breakfast of massive proportions! Home fries, french toast, pancakes, eggs, sausages, bacon, you name it, I cooked it. I called Sam up and invited him over, but he told me he never ate a big breakfast on a day that he pitched. Damn, and I wanted to show him just what he had to look forward to every morning for the rest of his life.

I took a frying pan and a table spoon and marched upstairs into the hallway. I began banging and clanging away for the sleepyheads to get their sorry behinds out of bed. I wasn’t serving breakfast in bed. There was simply too much to choose from. Aunt Melissa was the first to arrive on the scene. She had a healthy love of food. I was amazed that she managed to stay in such great shape given her appetite.

She sat down at the table and I served her a cup of coffee. Mom, a bit groggily, followed closely behind. I laid the feast out and sat down to join them. The sisters seemed to have their own non-verbal form of communication. It was almost spooky to watch. "So, have you decided who you’re going to invite to your wedding?" Mom asked me. Aside from Darla, Aunt Vivian, and Sally, there was no one in particular I wanted to invite. I thought for a moment maybe Mr. Ferris, or Mr. Hospin? Nah, they weren’t really friends, more like business acquaintances.

"It has to be a small affair Mom. I can’t afford anything else! Maybe I can get Fred to be the DJ?" Mom smiled appreciatively at my practical attitude.

"Well, generally the bride’s family gets stuck with the bill," Aunt Melissa said and laughed. I began to wonder just whom Sam was going to invite? Best not to dwell on that. I didn’t really know who his friends were anymore. Hell, in the past I could have counted them on one finger: Sam’s friends? ME! Things were hardly that simple any more. I hoped that was a good thing.

Aunt Melissa attempted to clean up after gorging herself on my many offerings. I insisted that she remain seated and did the clean up myself. Funny, Mom never needed any encouragement in that regard. Had Mom done what she’d done for me, or for herself? I guessed that the answer lay somewhere in the middle as I put the final pots and pans away.

"Well ladies, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and practice for a bit. I do have band practice in a couple of hours," I said as I walked off somewhat haughtily. I spent little time practicing the guitar. I could handle just about any rhythm responsibilities. As far as the bass was concerned, I was a babe in the woods. I began practicing scales on it as I’d taught myself on the guitar. The strings were thicker and tougher. Some serious calluses were going to be required.

Darla actually called me and asked if I could supply us with transportation over to Fred’s. I went and asked Mom if she could take us. She said that she’d love to. She wanted to meet this new boy that was my friend. Thankfully, she didn’t refer to him as my "boyfriend."

I put my bass and my Martin in the car and told Mom it was time to go. Aunt Melissa not wanting to miss out on the excitement either, joined Mom in the front seat of the car. They talked excitedly about the weddings as we made our way first to Darla’s and then to Fred’s.

Fred, as always, was waiting at the front door for us. I turned a few shades of crimson as I explained to him that my mother wanted to meet him. He laughed with the air of an aristocrat and walked out to Mom’s car and introduced himself. Both Mom and Aunt Melissa were quite taken with his good looks and his demeanor. "Don’t worry ma’am, I’ll take good care of your daughter," he said as he bade them goodbye.

"My Mom will be here to pick us up in three hours," Darla said "so we’d better get started," We went over the five songs that we’d already perfected and then Fred had us working on some simple 1 - 4 - 5 progression rock songs. He called them filler tunes.

"You guys may not realize it, but we already have enough material for an hour’s set," he said with serious optimism. I was a little reluctant to appear in public with less than ample material. Darla was ready to play anywhere, anytime. I found myself wishing that I felt as "at ease" as those two did.

"Fred, I’ve got a favor to ask of you?" I began. "I’m getting married next Sunday and I was wondering if you’d be the DJ at my wedding?" I finished.

"You’re WHAT!?" screamed Darla.

"Oh, and Darla, I was hoping you’d be my maid of honor?" Perhaps this hadn’t been the time or place to ask them these very personal questions. I felt a bit guilty as the silence continued. "Guys?" I asked hopefully. Darla spoke first.

"Joan, you have to know that I’d do anything for you," she said sadly. I began to wonder if her feelings for me were simply platonic. Fred’s response was similar to Darla’s. Was I some kind of tease and didn’t even know it?

"Joan, I’d be honored to supply the music on your special day. Just tell me where and when and I’ll see to it that it’s handled properly," he said in a professional tone. I felt extremely strange under the circumstances. I began to wonder if my feelings for Fred ran deeper than simple friendship. Everything was just happening so damned fast!

We practiced for another hour after my announcement. Fred joked that we wouldn’t be taking any jobs next weekend. He then asked me something that I’d not even considered. Where was I going on my honeymoon?

Hell, I was fourteen years old. This was a marriage of necessity (sort of). I’d never given any thought to going away with Sam. Would our parents even allow such a thing? The mere suggestion made me realize how far over my head I was getting. I couldn’t back out now. I knew that if I even suggested the idea to Sam that we just slow down "she’d" be running off to the abortionist. The twins were the most important thing in my life. They always would be.

"I don’t think we’ll be honeymooning anytime soon Fred," I responded. Darla wore the same confused look that I did. We were way out of our depth. Water wings weren’t going to do any good in the choppy seas ahead. "Sam still has the rest of his baseball season. He’s the best pitcher in the league, don’t ya know?" I finished.

Fred made some derisive sounds but nothing that I could discern. Was he making fun of me? It had probably been a mistake to ask him to DJ the reception. Reception: what a joke. A last minute impromptu backyard affair with god knows who attending. Was this what I wanted for my wedding day? Usually thoughts such as these would have me in tears. This day, I simply felt numb.

Aunt Vivian arrived and we made plans to practice again on Wednesday before saying goodbye. The band, at least, was coming along quite nicely. Fred had so much nice stuff. Every time I was in his basement I found myself scheming to purchase another of his cast-offs.

"Mom, I’m going to be maid of honor for Joan!" She squealed with delight.

"Oh, and when’s the happy day?" Aunt Viv asked. I wasn’t sure why, but sometimes her questions exuded sarcasm. Was she making a statement? Trying to awaken me from my dream? I knew then that the sooner the wedding took place, the better. If I had too much time to think about it, I’d probably be the proverbial "runaway bride."

‘We’re getting married a week from tomorrow. There’s going to be a small gathering at our house. I hope you can come?" I looked at her pleadingly. Her eyes softened and she told me that of course she’d be there.

Darla and I hugged goodbye. I told her I’d call her tomorrow night so we could discuss plans for the upcoming insanity. I was far too young to be this cynical. I went inside and wonder of wonders no one was cooking in the kitchen. I’d done my share of cooking for the day, so if no one else wanted to, I’d simply grab a bite later on the boardwalk.

I wasn’t home fifteen minutes when Sam called. We were finally going to spend a Saturday night together. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d done that. He asked me if I wanted a steak. Said he was ready to redeem his free dinner coupons he’d won at the ballpark. I told him that it sounded perfect and would see him when he got here in about an hour. He didn’t even mention the game. I began worrying that he hadn’t had a good one. How could I have forgotten to ask?

Mom tried to coral me and enlist my help on the wedding dress, but I told her I had more important things to do that evening. She actually told me she understood and that we could work on it tomorrow. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I had two painting jobs lined up for tomorrow. Hell, we needed all the money we could get. Besides it might make more sense to make my gown out of a certain set of bed linens tucked away in the back of my closet. I smiled at that thought and… maybe I would make something for the babies out of those sheets.

I checked myself out in the bathroom mirror. My makeup needed just a bit of a touchup. My own face looked like a stranger’s to me. Who was this person staring back at me from the glass? Unusual for me, I was beginning to feel a bit overwhelmed by life. Everything was moving too fast. I wished I could just fill my backpack with clothes and head for the hills somewhere. Leave everything and everyone behind; just go. Aunt Vivian better allow me the opportunity to express myself next week, I really needed to vent to someone who might understand.

I went downstairs into the kitchen and made myself a cup of tea; a highly unusual act for me. I sat at the table, drank my tea and had a smoke. There’d be no smoking around Sam and the twins this evening. He came over wearing a huge smile and carrying a single rose. I hugged him like my life depended on it. "Did you win baby?" I asked as I pressed my head tight against his chest.

He smiled and replied, "what do you think?" Ah, he was getting cocky in his old age. I put my rose in a small vase and realized I had no place left to call my own to put it on. It’s funny, Aunt Melissa had been here for over two weeks and I was just figuring this out now. Why was I feeling so cranky? I left the rose on the middle of the kitchen table, said goodbye to Mom and Auntie M and we began the long walk to Sheerborn’s Steakhouse.

"You know Sam, I worry about you a lot more than I used to every time I know you’re out there playing ball. I know it sounds crazy, and the Doctor said it was safe for you to play, but I just worry."

"There’s no need to worry Joan. Didn’t I tell you I now have a personal physician? (he laughed) Dr. Feingold comes to all of my games. We spoke for a bit when the game ended." I wasn’t so sure I liked that idea. Would she try to talk Sam into terminating the pregnancy? He looked at me as if he could read my mind. "Don’t worry sweetheart, she just suggested the best way for me to care for the twins at this early stage." I heaved a sigh of relief.

I was so glad I wore my blue pleated skirt this evening. The warm wind felt perfect as it gently kissed the lower half of my body. When I found the time, I was going to make a few more of them for myself. We arrived at the Steakhouse and Sam proudly presented the coupons to the hostess. She eyed him dubiously. It took me a moment before I realized that Sam had accomplished something that only two others had in the history of the billboard: won a free dinner for two.

We took our seats at an intimate table for two and Sam held my hands across the table. "Are you happy sweetheart?" Was my anxiety about the upcoming events showing? I considered his words carefully. A very simple question on the surface: was I happy?

"Yes Sam! I’m really and truly happy," I said and realized that all things considered, I was. "I really wish I could invite Doreen up for our wedding though," I continued. It took him a moment before he remembered just who she was. He looked at me as though I’d lost my mind. "Sam, she’s carrying my sister! My sister will be here in just a few short months! I’m sure Doreen would be thrilled about us. But, there’s no way I can tell her; at least not at this point." I sat there and stared sadly at the little red candle burning in the center of the table.

"It probably wouldn’t be a good idea telling your Dad until it’s all over," he said. I knew he was right. I’d arrived at that same conclusion myself recently. All in all, that was part of what was making me sad. Part of the rain on my parade. I smiled up at him wanly and squeezed his hands a bit tighter.

"So, Sam darling, where are we going on our honeymoon?" I asked and giggled. His draw dropped. Like myself, he hadn’t given the idea any thought either. What else weren’t we considering here? My own jaw dropped when he looked deep into my eyes and told me it was all taken care of and that it was going to be a surprise. I couldn’t help myself, I got up and walked around the table and hugged him for all I was worth.

"Thank you Sam," I whispered. He looked up at me uncertainly as he presented me with a small jewelry box. It seemed he was full of surprises this evening. He came across to my side of the table, went down on his right knee, looked me in the eyes while holding the box out proudly and whispered "Joan, will you marry me?"

I was totally unprepared for this. The tears began flowing as my heart filled with joy. He knew all the right buttons to push. This wasn’t a mistake, a marriage of necessity; this was the real deal. A once in a lifetime opportunity.

"Yes Sam, Oh, YES!" I exclaimed as he slid the ring on my finger. It was a perfect match to my wedding band. While the diamond was very modest in size, it symbolized the greatest love the world had ever known…

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Synopsis:

This is the final chapter in the story of "Joan's Room." Their magical day finally arrives. Will Joan find the strength within herself to make it all come together? Will outside forces intervene and prevent this marriage of necessity?

Story:

Chapter 25

I Will

Sam was far more in tune with everything than I’d ever realized. For awhile I worried that he was just another confused kid. It was pure serendipity that we found each other all those years ago, albeit in a playpen with him wrestling me to the ground as often as not. I grew to love all the more the person that he was becoming. His strength of purpose, his sense of being, everything about him were things to admire.

Sunday morning arrived and I found myself getting ready for work. I had two paint jobs to complete before the day was done. The Willitz were at the top of my list. I figured I’d stop home between jobs and grab a bite to eat. I found myself ringing their doorbell promptly at nine-thirty. Mr. Willitz answered the bell.

"Good morning Sir, my name is Joan, I’m here to do some painting," I said with determination. He eyed me chauvinistically and was about to close the door in my face when Mrs. Willitz appeared. "You must be Joan! Please come in. Mr. Hospin has had so many kind things to say about you. I ignored the poison darts emanating from Mr. Willitz’ eyes and followed Mrs. Willitz inside.

Once again I was faced with a job that far exceeded the sixty dollar range. These people were going to pay. "Mrs. Willitz, I’ll be more than happy to do this job for you, but I’m afraid it’s going to cost $120 for my time," I said solemnly.

"Whatever it costs, it costs dear," she said and threw daggers with her own eyes in Mr. Willitz’ direction.

Four-and-a-half hours later, I’d completed my task. I always felt good when I finished a job. Mr. Willitz paid me with grudging admiration. I handed them a few business cards and asked them to recommend me to their friends. With a smile on my face I rode home for a quick bite to eat.

The Seaton job was a much more straightforward one. In and out in two hours time; no muss, no fuss. I handed out a few more business cards and left with a big smile on my face. It had been a profitable day.

Sunday evening. Mom was preparing dinner. Instead of accepting it as part of our old routine, I began to wonder if Aunt Melissa was all right. "Mom, where’s Aunt Melissa?" I asked.

"She went to spend the day with her own daughter. She can’t spend all of her time with us, can she? By the way, Dan and Melissa are coming to your wedding. Melissa seemed especially thrilled by the news." I found myself subconsciously rubbing my own tummy and smiling. I was certain that this would be one case of "sympathetic pregnancy" for the books. I wondered if Aunt Vivian was already working on the idea?

"Mom, if things had to happen as they have, I couldn’t have planned it any better if I’d tried. You’ve all been so wonderful to me and Sam," I said with tears in my eyes. She came over and held me in a warm embrace.

"It’s going to be all right sweetheart. It’ll be good to have the pitter-patter of tiny feet in the house again. You did know that I always wanted more children, didn’t you?" She asked sincerely.

"So, what’s for dinner?" I asked, changing the subject.

"I thought we’d have hamburgers," she said as I burst out laughing.

"Our gourmet cook has run off for the day and you’re making burgers, it figures," I said jokingly.

"You’re always welcome to make us something else if you like? In fact, those burgers would taste a lot better if you made them on the grill and invited Sam and your mother-in-law over to join us." It was her turn to laugh.

I agreed that it was a good idea and placed the call to Sam. He and Aunt Alice would be over shortly. One day Sam would totally surprise me and turn down an offer of food, I thought and laughed again.

"So, have you figured out how you’re going to support your family?" she asked facetiously.

"Well, I plan on saving two hundred a week until the twins are born," I said matter of factly.

"It’s nice to have plans," she said in a placating tone.

Mom had absolutely no idea how much money I was making. For some strange reason I still can’t define, I felt it was best to keep it that way. In fact, I regretted my bit of braggadocio. I vowed it wouldn’t happen again.

Aunt Alice must be saving a ton of money on food these days. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d been invited over there for dinner. When it came to domesticity, Aunt Alice was severely lacking. I found myself worrying over the stupidest of things. Aunt Alice had asked me to call her "Mom." I just didn’t feel comfortable (for reasons unknown) doing that.

They walked in while I was in the backyard firing up the grill. I ran inside the moment I saw Sam heading for the gin bottle. His behavior was beginning to be cause for concern. I wondered how much he was drinking when I wasn’t around to stop him. How was I going to handle this? Like it was some kind of cutesy joke? Should I "out him" in front of the parents? That would just piss him off. I decided that after dinner we’d do a little online research and I’d show him the effects of "fetal alcohol syndrome."

With the four of us in attendance, I made enough burgers for six. I had no idea how many Sam would be eating these days. I reasoned that if he was going to be putting anything in his body, food would be best.

Dinner passed uneventfully. The "Moms" were more into next week’s wedding than I would have imagined. I took that as a good sign. "Aunt Alice" became upset when I called her that. I explained that if I called her "Mom" while Mom was there, it could get rather confusing. She accepted my explanation and let it pass. I knew that wouldn’t fly the next time I was over at their house. I guess it was one more thing I’d have to get used to.

With dinner over and everything put away, I ushered Sam up into my room and performed a google search on my computer. Sam became quite upset when he saw the graphic photos of newborns suffering from fetal alcohol syndrome. The pictures of those poor babies suffering sent chills down my spine. He promised me then and there that he’d not touch another alcoholic beverage. I hoped that it was a promise I could count on. Sam’s "friends" were known to tip back more than a few bottles of beer during an evening’s celebration after a victory. I had to keep him away from those gatherings, somehow. Oh, how I wished the babies were in my care. I laughed as I reasoned that it would be one sure way to get me to stop smoking.

"So there it is," he said matter-of-factly. I gave him the confused look he was attempting to elicit. "The scene of the crime. Want to go for a ride?" He asked as he pulled me towards my bed. I actually went into panic mode.

"Sam, we can’t do this here, now! Our mothers are downstairs!" He laughed and pulled me down on top of him. He was too damned strong for me to resist. "Sam please!" I begged. "We’ll have plenty of time for that next Sunday," I promised. I gave him my best pleading look. He wrapped a hand around the back of my head and pulled me to him. I slowly forgot what I was worried about as he teased me with his tongue. I finally came to my senses. "No, Sam! You have to learn that no means no!" He released me with a look that said I was breaking his heart. I knew there was no way I could perform with our Moms just fourteen steps below.

"What are they going to do, ground us?" He said and burst out laughing. I couldn’t help myself. I started laughing too. It was a special, memorable moment. I rolled off of him and gently rubbed his tummy. With my hands and my tongue, I gave him the release that he craved. I had to "shush" him a few times as he began writhing out of control. I vicariously experienced that same magical satisfaction. It was glorious.

Sam and I made our way back downstairs. Both of us wearing identical "shit-eating-grins." I could tell that both Moms knew exactly what we’d been up to, but thankfully chose to ignore it. The evening broke up early and Mom went into the sewing room to work on my gown. I told her I’d join her in a few minutes, that I had to call Darla first.

I had to ask her how Sarah was making out with my old job. I was surprised when she told me that she hadn’t heard from Sarah in a few weeks now. I knew she was interested in Fred, but was Darla actually changing sides? I didn’t pursue that line of questioning. She asked me how many bridesmaids I planned on having. I hadn’t really given it any consideration. I asked her if she thought that Sally would help out. Darla promised to call and ask her. I figured that Melissa would probably fill-in as well. This entire affair was getting more complicated all the time.

"We’ll have to go shopping for bridesmaid dresses and soon!" She exclaimed in anticipation. I laughed and promised her that we’d have it all taken care of by Wednesday. Then she asked me who she was going to be paired off with for the wedding. I sighed and told her I had no idea who Sam had in mind for best man.

"Don’t worry Darla, Fred’s going to be there. You’ll never have a better chance than this one. I hope it all works out for the both of you. I then told her that I had to go and help Mom with my wedding dress. We said goodnight and I promised to call her tomorrow evening.

With all that had been going on I doubted that I’d have much time to get any painting done this week. Still, I knew if I didn’t take those jobs that someone else would. I decided to schedule as many of them as I could for the upcoming week. I was a glutton for punishment.

With that thought in mind, I began making phone calls. Forty-five minutes later I had six jobs lined up for the week. That was enough. I got off the phone and ran down the stairs. I didn’t want Mom to get angry with me.

"Well, look who’s finally decided to show her face. And how is the fair princess?" she asked sarcastically.

"I’m sorry Mom. I had to call Darla and line up some work for the week. I was as quick as I could be," I told her.

She actually seemed to be somewhat understanding. Wonders never ceased. She had the frame of the dress already cut out and assembled and had me try it on. It was beautiful! I liked it just the way it was, but Mom promised it would look so much better when she was done adding the lace. There were tears in her eyes as she had me turn this way and that. A brief moment of confusion swept over me as I realized the significance of it all. Could I really go through with this?

"Mom, what’s going to happen after Sam and I are married?" I had to ask.

"What do you mean sweetheart?" she inquired.

"Well, is he going to move in here? Am I going to move over there? Are both of you going to throw us out on the street? Are we supposed to just continue on as we are?" I was overloaded with questions.

She actually laughed as she told me not to worry about it. She didn’t dismiss my questions, she admitted that they were good ones, but she had to sit down with Aunt Alice and work everything out. I asked her if she thought Melissa would agree to be a bridesmaid. Of course, she threw my question back at me and told me the only way to find out was to ask her myself. It was just then that the three of them came walking in the front door.

"Oh Joan! I’m so excited for you!" Melissa squealed as she ran up to me and gave me a hug. Had everyone lost their minds? Damn, this was supposed to be a happy occasion, yet I felt the only thing missing was the shotgun. Not that I didn’t want to marry Sam, I did. It just seemed like there was too much pressure from every direction.

Melissa and I chatted for a bit. I explained to her that I only had two girlfriends and asked if she’d please fill in as a bridesmaid. She laughed and told me she was hoping that I’d ask. "Joan Peters, that does have a nice ring to it," she said and smiled. I turned bright red and agreed with her that I liked the sound of it too.

Dan meanwhile sat in front of the TV watching ESPN while drinking a bottle of Budweiser. I didn’t even know we had any beer in the house. The four of us "girls" adjourned to the kitchen. I put on a pot of coffee and we began to make plans for next Sunday. The questions were fast and furious. How many people would be attending? What about food? Booze? Entertainment? It was closing in on eleven o’clock by the time we wrapped it up. It was decided that we’d order food for fifty, and get beverages accordingly. The Joan and Sam freight train was speeding towards its destination. Thankfully, it wasn’t out of control.

By Wednesday, I had all my painting jobs done for the week. I went and told Mr. Hospin that I was going on vacation for the next week and a half. I’m not entirely sure why I just didn’t tell him the truth. Perhaps I was afraid that he’d think less of me had I done so. The marriage license had been easier to obtain than I’d thought it would be. It seemed having the "mayor" preside over one’s wedding helped grease the bureaucratic wheels.

By Thursday’s end, all systems were go. The "bridesmaids" managed to find suitable dresses at Macy’s. No, they weren’t formal wedding attire, but they were appropriate and would serve the girls well for future functions. Fred had agreed to do double duty as videographer/photographer as well as handling DJ responsibilities. I was so glad that Sally was going to be part of the celebration.

Sam asked Billy to be his best man. I wasn’t too thrilled about that, but what can you do? It was his wedding too. Dan of course would escort Melissa and Jim, remember Jim? (part of the old gang.) He would serve as the final groomsman. I wasn’t sure which of those two I disliked more, Billy, or Jim. If nothing else, I’d gain more experience interacting with others my own age as Joan. I had no qualms about seeing those idiots again.

The rest of the week passed by in a blur. Sam actually asked if he could skip that Saturday’s game, but the coach told him if he wanted to be part of the team that he’d better be there. I guess that was for the best, well at least as far as the "Waves" were concerned. Although Sam hadn’t been scheduled to pitch, he was called upon in relief to save the game. This was the first time in county history that the Waves had an undefeated record this far into the season. Sam himself was setting his own records. No pitcher had ever gone this far with a zero-point-zero earned run average. Rumor had it that major league scouts were coming to the games. I found that a bit hard to believe. After all, he was only fourteen years old… and pregnant! I laughed insanely at the truth of it all.

Finally, the big day arrived. Although I hadn’t spent Saturday evening with Sam, he assured me that he’d not had a drop to drink. I believed him. He told me that he had to go out with the guys, you know, an impromptu bachelor’s party. He was crazier than I was. We were a perfect match.

It was a gorgeous summer Sunday. I’d spent Saturday preparing the backyard. Everything was glistening and ready for the upcoming ceremony. Aunt Melissa bought the wedding cake at Belle’s Bakery. It was a beautiful three-tiered cake with white frosting. I surveyed the situation one last time and went inside to get ready. Something old: I laughingly put on a pair of jockey shorts; something new: a sparkling pair of chandelier earrings courtesy of cousin Melissa; something borrowed: Mom’s antique pearl necklace; and something blue: a piece of ribbon tied in a bow around my right wrist.

I felt beautiful. My gown seemed to shimmer in the sunlight. The guests began to gather in the backyard. There were more people there than I’d anticipated. I nearly fell over when I saw Dad and Doreen in the backyard among the guests. Who the hell had invited them? He seemed to be happy enough. Could I go down there and face him dressed as I was?

"Mom!" I screamed. She came running into my room. "What’s he doing here?" I asked pointing out the window.

"Now just calm down Joan. Everything’s going to be all right." She said and waited. I began shaking uncontrollably. Not a month ago the man had kidnapped me and threatened to send me to military school. Now he was here to attend the wedding of his fourteen year old "daughter?" I camethisclose to fainting. Mom and Aunt Melissa kept me from collapsing on the floor.

"Joan, you’re going to have to see him sooner or later," Aunt Melissa said. I had but one question with regard to that assumption: why? I looked closer and noticed that he was talking and joking with my grandparents. I truly had stepped into the Twilight Zone.

"But, I thought Grandma and Grandpa hated him?" I asked in a confused state.

"They did honey. It seems they don’t dislike him quite so much now that he’s an ex-son-in-law." Aunt Mel continued. This was all too much for me to handle. I sat down on the bed and began hyperventilating. What next? I half expected to see Sam’s erstwhile father in the company of Sarah. This was more than I could handle. I so wanted to go to the bathroom and soak my head in the sink. With my makeup already on and my hair just so, that would have ruined everything. Even a damp sponge would have ruined it all.

Aunt Melissa came to the rescue with a double shot of bourbon. She forced the glass to my lips and insisted that I drink it. I nearly spat the contents all over myself as the foul elixir hit my taste buds. I managed to get a swallow of it down and pushed the glass away being careful not to spill any. Aunt Melissa shrugged her shoulders and quickly downed the rest of the whiskey.

"Come on sweetheart, it’s time to go. Everyone’s waiting…" Mom said as her voice trailed off. Suddenly I felt like I was at a Halloween party and I was in contention for best costume. I stopped in the kitchen before heading outside. I poured myself a shot of gin and drank it straight from the glass. I began to feel a bit woozy as I made my way into the backyard.

As if by magic, the traditional wedding march began to play. I thought this was supposed to be a small intimate gathering? There must have been seventy people there! Yes, I know, a small intimate gathering means different things to different people. My father grabbed my arm as I slowly made my way down the makeshift aisle. Perhaps we should have had a rehearsal? I locked my eyes on Sam. He was smiling down at me!

Finally we arrived at the small platform and I ascended alone. Sam stood there straight and tall in his tuxedo. The sun bounced off his angelic visage. I began to calm down as he took my hand in his own. The mayor began her magical pronouncements. Before I knew it I was saying "I Will" in response to Sam’s own. Then, he grabbed me in his arms and kissed me theatrically. It was over, we were now officially husband and wife.

I began nervously twisting my wedding band. It had taken on new significance in the last fifteen minutes. This really was a bit overwhelming. A line formed and people came up to greet us one-by-one. I didn’t know half of them. They all seemed to know me and Sam though. Fred continued taping the entire reception line procedure. He was really outdoing himself.

Grandma and Granddad were the last in line. I was totally numb by this point and simply hugged them both as they wished us well. There wouldn’t be any time today to get to know them better. With the greetings completed, Fred put on some soft background music as everyone headed for the bar. Aunt Alice and Aunt Melissa had everything under control in that department.

People who I didn’t even know kept coming up to me and telling me what a lovely ceremony it had been. I smiled at them all and thanked them politely. Finally, my Father and Doreen came over to me. Doreen looked radiant. She also looked as though she’d give birth at any minute. We hugged like sisters as she told me how glad she was that they’d been able to make it. I wanted to ask her what she’d done with my father and just who was this pod-person standing next to her, but that would have to wait for another time.

My Dad looked at me with tears in his eyes. "Joan, I’m so sorry," was all that he said. I told him that it was all right and that I was so glad that he had been there for my special day. The party began to get into fifth gear.

Darla became Fred’s eager assistant. Billy was a bit annoyed thinking that perhaps he’d have a chance with her. Ha! Talk about going from bad to worse; from Sarah to Billy? Thank God for small favors. Thankfully, Billy hadn’t said two words to me. We had nothing to talk about. I simply didn’t understand Sam’s friendship with him. I guess it was the love of the game (baseball.)

My husband came and escorted me into the middle of the dancing area. Since neither Sam nor I had a particular song in mind, Fred chose one. Soon Paul Stookey’s "The Wedding Song" began to fill the air. I’d never heard it before, but the sentiments were absolutely perfect. This was the first time I’d ever attempted to dance while not leading. OK, so I hadn’t had a lot of experience as it was, but still, I’d never gone at it from this direction before. Neither Sam nor I stepped on each other’s toes. If he had, I’d have killed him. I loved my white patent-leather pumps.

The song finished and everyone applauded as if we’d just taken first prize in the All-American Dance Contest. We smiled at them all and took our seats at the center of the wedding party’s table. It was time to make the toasts. A roar of laughter ensued as Billy had absolutely nothing prepared. Fred, once again, came to the rescue. It seemed that one of Fred’s many jobs was actually performing DJ services at weddings. His tuxedo was clearly no rental. I can’t recall his exact words now, but his toast was sheer perfection.

I was so proud of Sam! He lifted his glass of ginger ale and joined in with us all. To show my support for him, I refused the champagne and opted for the ginger ale as well. The cake cutting ceremony was also a tender moment. There was no cake shoved in anyone’s face. We each fed the other with affectionate loving gestures. I couldn’t imagine being any happier than I was that day.

"So sweetheart, what’s the big surprise? Where are we spending our honeymoon?" I asked impatiently.

"You’ll see," he said and kissed me tenderly…

***

Thus, "Joan’s Room" comes to a close. It’s going to be awhile before I begin posting chapters of Book Three (as yet untitled.) I’d like to take a moment and thank all of you for your kind wishes and thoughts. I hope you’ve had at least half as much fun reading this as I’ve had writing it. And, I have to admit, for myself, it was a lot more than simple "fun." I hope you’ll all be back to read "Book Three."

Peace be with you.

Always,
Darla…

Notes:

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