15-year-old Bill is unable. Unable to obey, unable to live in peace with others, and ... unable to cry.

~o~O~o~

A 1975 burnt orange El Camino carefully wound its way through the well-kept roads of North Montanas, the “new money” area of El Paso. The old car seemed out of place in this part of town; it even moved like it felt anxious, hesitantly turning at forks, going only 21 to 24 miles per hour in a speed zone of 30.

“Please, God, don’t let me get pulled over,” the driver muttered. He’d already seen two North Montanas police cars, each idling at different spots. He was sure that the cops would find a reason to stop him – not signaling a turn, going too fast, going too slow, driving while latino – but amazingly both cruisers let him pass without any problem.

The houses here were big and pretty, all in the $1 – 2 million range; that provided for a nice home, though not enough for large acreage or huge fences and gates. The neighborhood had been erected over the last 5 years and its newest school, Montclair Senior High, was operational in its 3rd year now. They had an aggressive security and police force; gang activity had yet to gain much of a foothold here. The upper-middle-class denizens here hoped that this would always be so. El Camino boy was not in a gang, yet he knew his appearance might stereotype him as a member. Or at least it would if he was noticed by anyone; all of the yards were empty. Do these yuppies hate the outdoors? he wondered.,

Finally, he reached his destination – 4701 Las Hongas. This place was an exception to its neighbors; it sat in the middle of 10 acres, with an 8-foot wall around it. The driveway to the house was accessible only by a gate with an electronic code.

The Camino drove up to the keypad/voice speaker box. An arm extended out the driver’s window and punched the ‘call operator’ button. The speaker crackled, and a woman’s voice came on: “Hello? May I help you?”

The driver stuck his head out the side window to speak into the box. “Ah, Mrs. Eiken? I’m Bernard. Bernard Andujar. We’ve never met; I’m a friend of Willie’s. Can I see him?”

The box was silent for a few seconds, then: “You don’t mean William, my husband, right? By ‘Willy’ you mean my 15-year-old son Bill, correct?”

“Uh, yea. Willy – I mean, Bill –we know each other from Montclair High. When he went there, we were best buddies. That is, before –“

“I know very well what happened, Bernard. I remember hearing about you now. Bill is here, but we don’t allow him to interact with any of his friends who were involved in the trouble he had with the drugs and the law. I’m sure you know all of this already. So I’m sorry but no, you cannot talk to him.”

“Okay; um, can I give you something to give to him, then? I have a birthday present for him. I know his 15th birthday was last month, so it’s kind of late …”

Gwendolyn Eiken sighed as she stood in the foyer of her house, listening to Bernard through the speaker. She still looked far younger than her 38 years suggested, with a thin fit body and a long, layered blonde hairdo. The only things that betrayed her overall presentation were the eyes, framed with multiple wrinkles from the stress of the last few years. They squinted once more as she struggled with this new decision.

A present?! No. He simply needs to leave. Can’t he just take a hint?

“Hey, Mom. Who’s that?”

Gwen turned her head to see the second of her three children, a short muscular boy named Bill. For some reason, his school friends the last few years had taken to calling him "Willy". He’d walked up behind her undetected. “It’s no one, Bill. Get back to your reading, please.”

The crackly voice came through the speaker by her head. “Uh … Mrs. Eiken? You still there?”

Bill’s face lit up with recognition. “That’s … that’s Bernard! Mom, let me speak to him, please? He’s my best bud! Hey, Bern!” – he reached for the intercom panel.

“NO.” Gwen’s hand blocked the transmit button. “Now you know the rules! Go to your room while I finish telling him to leave.” She pointed down the hall.

Bill’s face screwed up in anger, yet also defeat. “My life is SHIT! THIS HOUSE, THESE RULES, THIS FAMILY – THEY ALL SUCK,” he shouted as he turned and stomped towards the bedroom wing of the huge house.

Gwendolyn turned back to the intercom and again pressed the speak button. “Bernard, I’m still here. Leave your gift right outside the gate. I’m coming down in the golf cart and I’ll get it right away. If I don’t approve of the gift, Bill won’t get it. Please leave before I get there.”

“Um, OK. Hey Mrs. Eiken; I’m sorry for my part in what happened. Helping him break the law and all. I’ve tried to go the straight and narrow since then. But I wanted to ask you to … um … forgive me?”

Out at the gate, the intercom box remained silent for almost 30 seconds, then: “I’m sorry too, Bernard. And I forgive you.”

Bernie’s voice rose in anticipation. “You … you do? Does that mean I can talk to him sometime?”

“No, it does not.” The steel in Gwen’s voice returned. “Forgiveness means I am not going to sic the police on you with that confession you just gave me. Nothing more. Goodbye, Bernard.”

When Gwen arrived at the front gate in her golf cart, Bernard and his El Camino were gone as requested.

~o~O~o~

Bill (“Willy” to all of his ‘playa’ friends) Ramos sat in his room and fumed. He needed to destroy something, but couldn’t figure out how to do so and not make his own life more miserable.

Shit I need to kick a hole in the wall or break out a window. Something so Mom knows not to diss my friends ever again. He grit his teeth and growled with futility. Yeah, right. And then get my axe taken so I can’t even jam on it. And she’ll STILL diss me or my friends whenever she feels like it.

As an alternative to carnage, Willy picked up his guitar – his “axe” – and turned on the power. He put his headphones on, as the speaker amp had been disabled. No matter. He turned the volume on the ‘phones up as loud as they’d go and started to riff in rapid, angry chords.

Gwen knocked on Bill’s door, but he didn’t hear it over the jamming. She carefully opened the door and took in the sight.

Her son had his back turned towards the doorway; he thrashed at his guitar as if it were a prisoner that he was torturing with rapid-fire strikes from a whip. His young adolescent body was muscular and defined, a result of lifting weights (he had dumbbells in the garage) and possibly also some over-the-counter “men’s supplements” that he’d taken without her knowledge when he was 13 ½. His arrest 12 months ago, the stay in juvie and his severe home grounding had eliminated any access to anything like that in the past year. Still, Gwen wondered if those nutrition store supplements had contributed to her middle child’s aggressive personality. Worse every year since age 13, she mused. Also, his 5 foot 4-inch height may have caused him to act more macho to compensate.

He continued to thrash as he played, then turned and saw his mother. He stopped bolt-still and angrily glared at Gwen, grunting and growling as he tried to show her how much he hated her right now.

The stare shook the blonde woman internally, but on the outside she remained implacable. Then she smiled slightly and produced a large plastic sack, which she extended towards her son. “Bernard got you some late birthday presents. I looked at them, and I’ll allow you to have them.”

The glare became a confused look for about a second, then morphed into cautious optimism. “My birthday? What would he … OH DUDE! COOL!”

He pulled some model car kits out of the sack, each still boxed and sealed. There was a Dodge Viper and a NASCAR racer, Dale Earnhardt Jr.’s original DEI No. 8. Bill liked the challenge of gluing, painting and faithfully decorating a plastic model; he wasn’t into ready-made die-cast cars. At the bottom of the sack laid the coup de grace: an Aurora Godzilla model kit that had the big lizard stomping through the wreckage of a city.

“Mom! Do you realize how much money Bernie spent getting these? The ‘Zilla is over $100 at least – a collector’s edition!”

Gwen took a deep relaxed breath, a rarity when around Bill these days. “You really like it, eh?”

“No shit, Sherlock!”

Gwen tensed a little more. “But you’re happy, right?”

Bill peered back at her through narrow eyes. “Let’s not go that far. Maybe, if I could get some old-style model glue instead of that non-toxic crap you make me use.”

Gwen sighed. “Nope. Nothing that can be abused or sniffed, you know that. Have fun with these, but not before daily schoolwork is done, and night curfew is still in effect of course. I’ll call you when supper’s ready.” She walked away headed to the kitchen. Well, I enjoyed seeing him smile. For a split second.

~o~O~o~

Gwen’s other two children – Angela, the oldest at 17, and 13-year-old Malachi – had now arrived home from school, so she was fixing supper. They all lived in a mansion that could have included servants, maids and groundskeepers; but with only one parent producing income now, the budget didn’t have the room for those. Gwen had quit her job as manager of an orthodontic office earlier this year to try to homeschool young Bill, to save his life and future.

“Oh boy! Chicken spaghetti! Cheesy like I like it!” exulted Mal when they sat down to the dining table.

“Meh,” said Bill. He actually liked this dish but was unwilling to give his Mother the satisfaction of having pleased him.

They said grace and dug in. Angie swallowed her first bite, then turned to her mother. “Where’s Dad?”

“Don’t call him that, buttface! He’s just a stepdad. STEPdad, get it?” growled Bill. “Call him that, or his name, but NOT ‘Dad’. “

Gwen spoke calmly. “She can call William ‘Dad’ if she wants to.”

Bill grumbled and stabbed at a chicken chunk with his fork. “Well then, I want to call him ‘Satan’. Can I?”

“Your stepfather’s name is William. That’s what you all will call him,” announced Gwen. She turned to her daughter. “Honey, because this is such a sensitive subject, maybe avoid calling him Dad for now.”

Angie got sad, shaking off a tear as she twirled some noodles. “It’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair?” said an adult baritone voice from the entryway. “I can smell chicken spaghetti! Be there in two seconds!”

“One … two … three … four. See? Barely home and he’s lying already,’ snorted young Bill.

“Hello, people,” smiled a handsome man of 40 years now sitting down at the table. He was trim and fit with styled dusty brown hair, and had a perfect bright smile, apropos for his profession.

“How goes the orthodontist practice, William?” said Gwen with a happy/weary smile.

“Never as smooth as when you were my manager. I think Mike is still there straightening out tomorrow’s scheduling snafus.” William shook his head. After closing his eyes and whispering a thank-you prayer for his food, he then looked up at his makeshift family. “So, what did everyone do today?”

“I’ve been chosen to design our class float for the homecoming parade next month,” said Angie “It will take a lot of work to do right, but it will blow everyone’s mind if I can pull it off. Can I show you my ideas after supper, Da – I mean, William?”

“I’m in a run-off for the cross country team tomorrow,” chirped Mal. “Me and 5 other guys are racing to fill the last 2 slots.”

“So, a literal run-off,” said William, smiling at his stepchild’s use of language.

“I’m not hungry anymore,” said Bill. “Hearing about what everyone else here is allowed to do – it makes me sick.” He rose from his chair.

“Bill,” Gwen said, “do you want me to bring you something to your room later?” She was talking about food.

“Yeah. Stepdad’s rifle, from the gun safe. So I can do a quadruple-murder/suicide.” Bill then stomped out of the dining room.

The rest paused their conversation and ate in silence for a few minutes before continuing with small talk in a much more somber tone until the meal was finished.

~o~O~o~

There was a sharp knock on Bill’s door twenty minutes later.

“Piss off, whoever it is,” the youth snarled.

“Bill, decent or not, I’m coming in,” said stepdad William. The door opened to reveal a frowning stepfather with a folding chair.

The teenager rolled his eyes and sighed. “Whadda you want?”

“I ignore most of your ugly comments, Bill. You had to know that I wasn’t going to let that murder/suicide remark go, though. What crawled up your butt and died today? Your mom told me about your awesome birthday present from your friend; I was hoping you’d be in a better mood.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it, William.”

“Want to or not, I’m not leaving this room ‘til we – ‘til YOU – get this settled.” William unfolded his chair and sat down facing his stepson.

“Oh Gaaahd,” Bill moaned. “NOT more TALKING!! Gawd, can’t you just spank me or beat me and then leave me alone? But these ‘heart-to-heart’ talks – they’re like TORTURE!”

William ignored Bill’s complaint and pressed on. “I’m grounding you off the TV for the week. Unless you sincerely apologize for what you said at supper. The apology should be done to all of the family. And it had better be a good one.”

“Well, that idea can go to hell, stepdad.”

“Okay. No TV for a week it is, then.”

Bill’s face scrunched up with anger like a “Chucky” doll. “Why do you and Mom pick on me all the time? The other two are always treated as the favorites, and you punish me worse than you would a criminal! If I ever leave the house it has to be with you or Mom present at all times. You took my phone and my computer; I’m cut off from all my friends. This should be illegal. Are you sure it isn’t child abuse?”

William glanced askance at his young charge. “Come on now, Bill. I do see good and bad in all 3 of you kids. Angie is well behaved but hates to study, so I’m always pushing her to get serious about her grades. Mal loves to try to get you into trouble; I know he likes to painfully flick your ear, or continue bugging you with spit wads or elbows to your ribs, then you haul off and hit him, and he acts all innocent while you get the blame.”

“Mal hasn’t done that to me in a while. Guess he got tired of me slugging him.”

“Maybe that was it, Bill. Or maybe it was the fact that I confronted him about his behavior and threatened to ground him for a month and cancel his cross country tryouts.

“Also, your restrictions don’t just affect you, kiddo,” William continued. “Your brother and sister have to share the same computer as you, the one in the living room. We keep an eye on what sites each of you visit. And yes, when you’re outside the house you must be accompanied by a parent. So your grounding essentially grounds your Mom and me too!”

Bill hit his scalp with his fists, he was so frustrated. “But WHY?? I only did one wrong thing – one little wrong thing! Yes, I got caught taking Lortabs. But I did my time – 5 months in that hell they call Juvenile Detention. But in the 6 months since I got out, I’ve been on “Stepdad” detention! Are you never going to forgive me or trust me ever again?”

William stared at the teen in what appeared to be disbelief, then said: “Really? That’s the only thing that led to your extreme grounding? You don’t remember anything else?”

“I liked to joke around. That’s it. Nothing worth all this crap.”

“Bill. Let me refresh your memory.”

~o~O~o~

“When I first met you – that night 6 years ago, after bringing your Mom home from our first date – you seemed mischievous, but you otherwise were a happy, smiling kid. You liked to wrestle, and we tussled on the floor for a minute, remember? Your mother was horrified, but we were both laughing our heads off.

“After I married Gwen, you seemed to grow a bit distant from me. I got that a little from your brother and sister too, just not as much.”

Bill snerked out a sarcastic laugh. “Yeah, probably because your true colors came out after Mom said ‘I do’.”

“Think about it, buddy,” William persisted. “After the wedding, I stopped being just an adult friend; I automatically became one of your parents. That meant I had to step up with rules and discipline. I bent over backwards to go easy, and that seemed to work with Mal and Angie – but not you. You loved to test my boundaries, and started rebelling. It almost seemed you wanted to push the limits, like you were daring me to discipline you. Then you howled with complaints if I did so.”

“And Mom backed you every time!” Bill yelled. “She used to have us kids as her #1 priority – like all mothers should! But YOU come along, and she practically ignores us – especially when there are things I wanna do that go against your RULES. I can’t wait to get out of this place and be on my own!”

“Bill. First of all, the rules aren’t just from me. Your Mom and I worked together to come up with them. Second, I’d love to have good times with you – wrestling, or fishing, or a lot of other things – but you are so insistent on hating me that you refuse every opportunity. Thirdly, you’re fifteen. What do you think you’d be doing if you were on your own?”

“I’d be living my life the way I want! Free and easy. I know how to get money, so that’s no prob. And I could stay with Bernard; his dad works all the time and would hardly notice I was there. No more shitty school work, no more stupid rules. Man, I’d be so happy. You and Mom would be happier without me. And I could find me a chica and start getting some pussy. I know you understand that need in a guy. That’s practically the reason you married Mom – she’s a MILF.”

William’s eyes narrowed in surprised offense. “Wait. You think that –“

“Why else would you marry her?” said Bill. “A single lady with 3 kids and a lot of expenses. We weren’t starving, but we weren’t rolling in money either. An ortho- dentist? Dontist? whatever - like you could score any hot single chick he wanted. So why choose Mom, even though she’s a brick house? I bet it was because she was guaranteed to not sleep around on you – she can’t afford to mess all this up,” he waved his hand in a circle over his head, indicating the mansion they were in.

William slowly shook his head in sad realization of his stepson’s deluded thoughts. “First of all, Bill, your mother is incredibly attractive, yes. But I did not marry her because of her looks; that was just wonderful icing on the cake. She is the most loving, most determined, most courageous woman I’ve ever met. She treats me like a king and lets me treat her like a goddess. She’s my best friend, my soul mate; the one I’ve been looking for all of my life.”

“Gaaahd, gimme a barf bag,” Bill replied, rolling his eyes.

William continued. “And as for what you would do on your own – you’re just fifteen. The laws mandate that you continue your schooling until you graduate or turn seventeen, the state age of adulthood. If you aren’t doing some type of schooling, then you’re called a truant, and you go to juvie. Not only that, but your Mom and I get into trouble – what you do as a minor is my legal responsibility. We could even go to jail if we don’t keep you out of trouble.

“This statement you made earlier, about ‘I know how to get money’ – I suspect you were talking about some type of drug dealing. Am I wrong?”

“Hey, hold on! When they caught me with the Lortabs? I – uh – got those only for my personal use. I never sold nobody nothing.”

“And yet, Bill, around that time you came into some obvious money somehow. You bought an electric guitar, some gold gangster bling jewelry, and got that big tattoo of a dragon on your arm – all without consulting us or getting anything more than your usual allowance.”

“See, STEPdad? I’m always guilty in your eyes. I got good friends who like to give me things; so what? You got no proof that I’ve done anything illegal.”

“I’ve got proof that you lie,” William whispered. “Your blood sample at your arrest showed more than just the Lortab. You screened positive for cocaine and pot., too.”

“WHAT?” Bill gasped. “No one ever told me that! You’re making it up!”

“It’s true. I never told you because I’ve been waiting for you to confess it on your own, to finally get honest with me. So you got into multiple drug use, and to pay for that I assume you got into the drug trade. You’re pretty amazing if you did; this school and neighborhood have prided themselves on preventing any dope dealers from getting a foothold. Oh, the addicts still get their stuff – but they’ve had to go to the scummy parts of El Paso to do so. Until you found a way to slip through all the barriers here in North Montanas. That’s my theory. Am I right?”

Bill looked shaken. “I’m sick of all this TALK TALK TALK. Just leave me alone, OK? I’m done. I’m going to sleep.” He flopped down on his bed and pulled the covers over his head. “Turn the lights out when you leave, WILLIAM,” he barked.

William had one more thing to say. “I don’t think you’re a lost cause, Bill. But I have to give you consequences for your bad behavior. This trouble might be all due to the drugs, and/or to hanging around with the wrong crowd. But maybe there’s something else? There seems to be a deep … what can I call it? … a dissatisfaction in you, somehow; some conflict that isn’t getting addressed. I wish you would open up to the counselor we’ve sent you to; maybe he could figure it out. Just know this: all of these rules, all of this so-called crap that I’m putting you through – it’s because I love you and care about you, bud.”

William sat there for another minute to see if Bill would respond. Then he got up, folded his chair, and left the room. He turned the light off and closed the door as he did so.

~o~O~o~

Bill lay in his bed after William left. He thought of the things that had been said.

There has to be a way out of here. It’s almost 2 years until my 17th birthday – I think I’d rather be dead than wait that long. I could run away, but if I get caught, it means juvie detention again.

Bill physically shuddered at the thought.

Juvie. The only thing worse than THIS hell is THAT. I don’t know how other counties run their JD, but I’ve never been beaten up and beaten down – by the other kids AND the guards – as bad as there. At least here I get to go outside and into town, although I have to have Mom or stepdevil with me. So running away, or tearing up my house or terrorizing my family to the point it becomes a crime – that’s out.

I could claim to be abused, right? Then Child Protective Services would have to put me with a foster family; that’s a roll of the dice. My parole officer wouldn’t approve of me staying with Bernard or any of my old band of buddies. I’d have to show signs or prove the abuse; that’s a challenge because no one believes me against my parents. Everyone sees me as a liar. I mean, I am, but it’s still unfair that I get typed that way.

What about those rich actors or music star kids that leave their families because they spend all their money, like that Charlie’s Angels star? What was it called … EMANCIPATION OF A MINOR. Is there any way I could apply for that? I could look it up on the computer, but snoopy stepdad with his tracker would see what I’d been reading.

He sat up on the side of the bed and saw the big birthday sack from Bernard.

What a great gift. Bernie knows I love cars, monsters and model kits. But as cool as they are, I’d trade them all right now for a way out of here.

Bill took each cellophane-wrapped box out to look over the specs of the kits, first the cars and then the large Godzilla set.

Funny. The ‘Zilla box is bigger so it will be heavier, but somehow it seems … TOO heavy? And the shrink wrap on it is looser like it’s an amateur job. This obviously has been repackaged. Wait, what’s this?

Printed in black marker on the bottom of the Godzilla box were the words: FILE INSIDE.

Bill puzzled over this for a minute, and then a flash of memory came to him. It was the last time he’d seen Bernard face to face, before going into Juvenile Detention almost a year ago.

What did he say to me? He just asked if there were anything he could do. And I joked back at him, “bake me a cake with a file in it” – like, so I could file through the bars and escape … !

Bill tore off the cellophane from the ‘Zilla kit. Inside were the actual parts for the model, but taped to the bottom of the box …

… was a slim smartphone.

Bill punched the “on” button and after a few eternal seconds the screen lit up; it was almost fully charged, 97%. The text icon on the phone had a little red “1” on it, indicating one unread message. He tapped it. It said:

Text back when u get this. Bernard.

~o~O~o~

To be continued tomorrow.

If you've gotten this far, please leave a comment! Don't make me reach through the screen and tweak your nose!

Thanks for reading!

~o~O~o~

Bill spent the next hour in bed, cover over his head, pretending to sleep. He actually was texting back and forth to his friend Bernard the whole time.

(Bill) Dude! That was awesome, how u slipped this phone 2 me! Is it prepaid, or what?

(Bernard) Pop got a ‘buy 4 phones cheap’ plan last week. So He, Mom, sis and me all get one. Jan’s on a exchange program til Xmas, so he put hers away. I just ‘borrowed’ it. It’s activated. Need it back B4 Dec. 21.

Awesome! So, I can text and make calls? Internet too?

Don’t call on the phone. If ur mom hears u whispering – busted. Safer 2 just text. Keep phone hidden good or we both in big trouble

Way ahead of u bro. How’s the rest of my old posse?

Man. We all broke up. None active in chemical biz now. Most don’t ask about u.

Shit. Cancel those posers.

Been tryin 2 contact u but ur keepers too strict.

Anyone else set up new pipeline 2 deliver product 2 our users?

Not yet. Gangs from south want in, but haven’t been able. Remember Rodrico Santos? He’s a junior now. Trying to take ur spot as the playa at Montclair HS but he don’t have connections u made. He might sign up with a south town gang, be their little puppet here. That’s what I liked bout u, Willy. U always your own man.

Yeah. Til I screwed up, got caught popping lortabs behind 7-11. Now my rents won’t let me even piss in private.

They watch you pee?? Awk!

KIDDING, doofus. But it’s almost as bad. NE way, I got a plan. With ur phone I
can surf internet 4G & not be detected! Dude ur awesome. I’m gonna get out of home jail w/o doing anything to get me back in juvie..

How?

Leave that 2 me. Then u + I r gonna run sweetest black market pipeline El Paso’s evr seen.

Dude. U need 2 kno. I still ur bud, want 2 help you get free, but I’m out of the drug business and staying out. I changed. I don’t want 2 be sideways with the law, u kno? Uh oh. Pop calling 4 me. Don’t sound happy.

DUDE! WHAT, DON’T TELL ME U FOUND JESUS OR BUDDHA OR SOME SHIT LIKE THAT! WHAT THE HELL?

CD9 bye! *

[* CD9 = parent(s) here]

~o~O~o~

Bill spent the rest of the night reading on the internet using his new smartphone. Finally, at 3 AM the battery ran to zero, and Bill hooked it up to the charger cord Bernard had also put in the box. He made sure to use the wall socket behind his dresser, and he hid the silenced phone on the floor under it. A plan was starting to form in his brain, one that could get him what he wanted most: freedom. However, he needed a lot more knowledge to work out all the details.

Gwen noticed Bill had overslept the next morning. She decided to avoid waking him until nearly lunchtime, mainly because of how that “murder/suicide” comment had shaken her. She decided to fix him a hamburger with mushrooms and Swiss cheese, one of his favorites.

Bill lumbered out of his room, the smells from the kitchen and his rumbly tummy pushing him onward. He sat down at the breakfast nook in his T-shirt and gym shorts and inhaled the food without a word.

“Did you enjoy your meal, son?” Gwen asked. She felt she was taking a risk by asking a question; his silence today so far wasn’t enjoyable, but it was more peaceful than the bile he spewed yesterday.

Bill blinked his eyes and lifted his head out of the deep thoughts he was in. “Hm? Oh. Yeah, it was really good. Thanks, Mom.” He then returned to his musings.

Gwen put her foot down so he’d start his homeschooling assignments on schedule. He actually did so with no resistance; this amazed her. For the rest of the day and into the evening Bill was quiet and preoccupied in thought. His siblings, after getting home from school, noticed it too; Mal was about to ask his brother what was going on, but Angie took him aside to say something along the lines of letting sleeping dogs lie. Bill went to bed at 9:07, nearly a full hour before his curfew. Again, instead of really going right to sleep, he texted some with Bernie and then surfed the internet on his little phone. Always under the covers.

This pattern repeated for the next four days. On day five, Saturday, Gwen and William confronted Bill in his room.

The matriarch started. “What’s going on, Bill? You’ve been quiet – more than you’ve ever been. You aren’t yelling or starting arguments. The schoolwork is getting done on time and you aren’t antagonizing Angie and Mal. I should be overjoyed, but I’m wondering if something’s wrong.”

Bill just shrugged his shoulders as he faced her. “I’m just tired of fighting. I can’t live in turmoil every day. I’ve finally decided to give in and be obedient.”

William was suspicious. “Wait a minute. You indulge in turmoil – you live for conflict! You get joy out of rebelling, out of fighting! Tell us what’s really happening.”

“Fine. Choose not to believe me, William. I’m not going to yell with you over it. I have to get peace in my life.” Both parents stood silent as Bill lay back on his bed, closed his eyes and folded his hands over his belly in an almost meditative pose.

William walked out and returned in seconds carrying a plastic cup with a lid to fasten over it. “Bill. Get up and pee in this. Now.”

Bill opened his eyes – and smiled pleasantly. “Sure, William.” He took the cup and walked to his toilet, producing the sample for his stepdad in less than a minute.

Hmm, William thought as he left Bill’s room. He really gave me actual urine. It’s warm, yellow, and I didn’t hear the sink running. He couldn’t have produced a fake sample like this in that short a time. Well, let’s get this to my pal at the lab and we’ll make sure.

~o~O~o~

At the end of the day, the two parents lay in their bed discussing their middle child.

“The sample showed no trace of illicit drugs,” said William.

“Then what’s caused this drastic change?” muttered Gwen.

“I don’t know, honey.”

“William … maybe this is a real thing? Maybe Bill decided to just quit resisting and try to get along with all the rest of us. Maybe all of the grounding and restrictions have suddenly paid off!”

“Boy, wouldn’t that be wonderful?” the husband sighed. “But I really doubt it. I mean, people can have a huge life shift suddenly; it’s just rare as hen’s teeth. Especially without something transformative like a spiritual experience or huge tragedy. So my gut feeling is that there’s an ulterior motive to all of this, something he’s doing to break out of the life pattern we’re forcing him to live.”

“Well. Whatever it is, I’m going to enjoy it while it lasts. Who knows? If he shows more obedience, maybe we could trust him to be at home alone while you and I go on an actual date?”

“Let’s not ease up on the rules yet; that may be just the thing he’s shooting for.”

“GYAAAAH!” moaned the wife in frustration. “If this goes on much longer I’m going to forget what it feels like to be romanced.”

“Well … you wanna fool around?”

Gwen sighed. “I was hoping for some dancing and wine, flowers and chocolate. That would REALLY get me in the mood. But sure, if you need me to, let’s have sex.”

William proceeded with foreplay, but couldn’t help but start to wonder if his marriage would survive this issue with his stepson.

~o~O~o~

Down the hall, Bill lay in his bed. He’d just finished texting with Bernard; tonight they hadn’t discussed the ‘escape plan’, just girls and music and dreams each had for the future. Bernard didn’t seem to have any focused structure for his destiny, while Bill had planned out at least the next 5 years of his. It all hinged on getting out on his own, and soon.

Man, stepdad and Mom sure looked freaked during their ‘talk’ to me. Perfect, Bill thought. This just needs to get researched and thought through a little more – just a few more days, I think. I need to write it all down to organize it in my head, then burn the writing and get it started.

They wonder how and why I’m being this way. Even I’m amazed at how I’m chillaxin’. I finally have a plan, and I’m totally focused on it; I can finally see a light at the end of this shitty tunnel, and I’m floating above it all finally. Just a few more days of research. Then I need to write – get it on paper so I can think straight, iron out any rough spots and freeze it all in my memory. Then shred the paper evidence and crank this mother up. Yeah. I like it. Snatched!*

*looks good

~o~O~o~

The next morning, Bill knocked on his parent’s bedroom door. William answered, not opening the door more than the space required to show his face. “Hey Bill. What do you need? Your mom’s getting dressed for church.”

“Yeah, William. Why don’t you get ready and go with her? I’m sure she’d like that.”

“Uh-uh. Nope. Nice try, buddy. You know one of us has to stay here to make sure you don’t get into trouble. Is that what your model behavior this last week was about? To get some alone time without a parent around? Sorry. Didn’t work.”

“No sir; that’s not it. I was suggesting we all go to services as a family – including me. I’ve shaved, and I’ve got my dress slacks ready. I’ll need to use the iron on my long sleeved white shirt though.”

William stood stunned. First, Bill had called him “sir” for the first time in maybe forever. Second, if he’d heard right, this boy had just said he wanted to go to church.

“Church!? You … want to … wait. You HATE church! We had to drag you kicking and screaming the last time you went, and that was a year and a half ago. You made such a ruckus that we agreed to not force you anymore. And now you WANT to? What’s this game you’re trying to pull?”

Bill shook his head. “Sir, why are you fighting me like this? I’m getting more grief from you now, trying to live right, than I did when I rebelled against everything.”

Now a manicured female hand slid inside the door edge and pulled it open, showing Gwen. She was buttoning the top of her dress, and had a big astonished smile that she shone at Bill. “Honey, if you want to go to church then you can go! William, stop giving him a hard time and get yourself dressed! You two had better hurry – we need to leave in 20 minutes!”

~o~O~o~

Chula Vista Episcopal Church was an old fashioned congregation that still played hymns with an organ while everyone stood and sang along. People still dressed in their Sunday Finest, too. Wearing a dress shirt with no tie was about as casual as it got here. An occasional jeans-and-T-shirt person might attend, usually a visitor or out-of-towner; but others would stare, some with disapproval.

Head-turning and stares were happening today, but not for unwritten clothing violations. The Eikens were, for the first time in over a year, attending services as a complete family – husband, wife, and three teenage children. Gwen beamed a thousand-watt smile. She loved church, and had dreamt of the day the whole household would willingly come here again.

William trailed all of them, keeping a hawk’s-eye on Bill.

Some older to teenage boys waved for Bill to come sit with them, but he waved them to come to where he was, next to his Mom. He otherwise was eyeing the teen girls, and maybe even the more attractive young adult women.

He’s checking out the hotties, thought William. But that’s to be expected of a teen boy, especially when we’ve kept him from dating. I’ll have to tap him on the shoulder if he starts to obviously leer.

The young man indeed was checking out the collection of curves. He was doing more, though; he was taking mental notes of these women. Who was wearing what outfits, what colors were combined, accessories, etc. He studied how they moved, how they walked, talked, sat down, stood up, used their arms and hands. He’d never paid that much attention to these details before. I’ve got to absorb as much as I can so that the Plan works, he thought.

Bill was so lost in his analysis that he forgot to be bored (his usual reaction) during the sermon, prayers, and collection. As they got up to leave, both his parents marveled about how well behaved and calm he seemed. They decided to chance Furr’s Cafeteria for lunch as a family.

Halfway into their meal, Gwen turned and whispered in her husband’s ear. “Look at how Bill’s eating. Small bites, closed mouth, no smacking, even properly using the napkin and utensils!”

She’s right. That boy usually devours food like a wild beast. Okay; we must be in the Twilight Zone now. What’s next? William wondered.

Neither realized that for the last week, Bill had been observing his mother Gwen and sister Angie’s habits. Not just eating, but living in general. He could tell his family – especially the parents – were confused with his behavior.

Bill was pleased. So far so good. I think I even sense a little tension going on between Mom and Stepdevil. That’ll help.

~o~O~o~

Bill covertly texted his friend Bernard that night after bedtime curfew.

Dude. RU up?

There u are, Bill. Almost went 2 bed. Pretty tired; Pop had me mow and clean gutters when I got home frm church. Saw u there BTW.

WHAT? You were there? Chula Vista Episcopal? How come I didn’t see you?

I work their ancient sound board from the balcony. I just stayed there. Your Mom don’t want me seein u. Thought I keep us both outa trouble.

But dude? U NEVER gone to church in your life! U told me a while back!

Hey I told u - I changed.

I don’t want u 2 change; I NEED u NOT 2 change. May need u for my escape plan. What the hell kind of change??

Not gonna tell u rite now. Ur 2 angry.

DAMMIT BERN TELL ME

Look. Need 2 sleep. Will tell u when ur more chill. Nite.

BERNARD U ASSHOLE
…

BERN?
…
Bern. Sorry. I’m sorry. Treating u like shit after all u done. Im a lousy friend. Next time I shut up n listen 2u. Sleep good bruh.

~o~O~o~

Two days later, Bill finally felt ready to map out the Escape Plan. He made sure that all of his homeschool homework was done, as well as any chores he’d been scheduled for. Gwen had rented an on-demand movie for the family to watch – Disney/Pixar’s latest animated offering. Bill watched it for about ten minutes then asked to be allowed to retire early, claiming the movie didn’t interest him (which was true).

In his room with a legal pad and a pen, he diagrammed the Plan with possible deviations and appropriate actions. No stone was left unturned, none that he could see. He’d planned for every eventuality. Except for one big thing: Bernard. He might need his best bruh if the plan was to work. How would Bern’s “change” affect his willingness to help?

What if he’s super religious now? If so, he won’t agree to some of the things I may need him to do. Dammit, I need to know. I haven’t texted him since he brushed me off two nights ago. What if he won’t talk to me now? Only one way to know.

.....

Hey Bernard. U there bud?

There was no response for a few minutes; then

Hey Bill. Saw the last part of ur last text. Apology accepted. How come u no text for 2 days?

Thought you might be mad at me. U never stood up 2 me like that B4.

Just setting a boundary. That’s a pop word with my new crowd

New crowd?

Yeah. See I changed. I attend 12 step grp 4 drug addicts. NA. A group of them also attend Chula Vista church, so I started early summer, and now I run sound board.

But u nevr were an addict! U nevr used our products!

Yeah I did – u just not kno about it. When u got caught, I try 2 stop but no luck. So I went to NA w/a friend. They – and HP - have me clean.

Whats NA and HP?

Narcotics Anonamous and Highr Power

Anonymous. Ur spelling still atrocious Bern haha. So, ru clean / sober now?

Yeah 8 mos. But 2 keep it I avoid illegal drugs, even selling. I don’t like how strict ur grounding is, so I help w/ that – but not getting back in chemicals. So, u have plan 4 getting out of ur sitch?

Yes. It may seem xtreme; freak you out. But trust me. Here it is in nutshell …

~o~O~o~

The next morning,

Gwen Eiken was wondering what she’d lost: her mind, or just parts of her wardrobe.

I know I washed my lilac blouse last week and I swear I haven’t worn it since. So where is it? And I know I have 4 black skirts, so how come I only see 3 here? In fact, my whole closet seems a little too thin … and I did all of my laundry yesterday. Could Angela be … ?

As she checked her daughter’s closet, she found none of her own attire there. That was a futile search. Angie’s still too petite compared to me size-wise, anyway.

She was only mildly concerned about this riddle. After all she had plenty of other clothes to wear. Surely these missing ones would show up eventually. Nothing to worry about. As long as no more items start disappearing.

Little did she know the answer to the riddle would be solved in about 9 hours.

~o~O~o~

Suppertime, that same day.

Gwen was placing the beef and noodles on each plate, along with potatoes, carrots, and green beans.

“Mom, I’m starving to death! When’s he gonna get here? The food’s getting cold!” urged Malcolm.

“Sit down, son,” laughed Gwen. “William texted me seventeen minutes ago that he was getting on the highway. Unless there was a traffic jam, he should be here in –“

“Hello, family!” Williams voice boomed from the hallway garage entrance. “Ooh, and hello beef stroganoff, from the smells. My favorite!”

“Have a seat, Dad! We’re all here and ready – except for Bill,” said Angie. Then in a whisper she added, “when Bill’s not around I can call you ‘Dad’, right?”

“Where is our middle son?” Gwen frowned. “I called him on his room intercom that dinner was ready. Mal, can you go get him?”

“If I don’t die of hunger on the way, sure,” fretted Mal. He got up and sprinted to the bedroom wing.

William gave Gwen a kiss on the cheek as they waited. “How did Bill do during his homeschool sessions today, honey?”

“Oh, he was well behaved, as usual – the new usual, I mean. Got all his work done, and then said he would be in his room until supper.”

“Hmm, so he’s been in that room for all the afternoon? Did you check and make sure he wasn’t into any mischief?”

Gwen’s mood soured suddenly. “William – I am so tired of us always having to suspect the worst from him. No, I let him be. He’s been so good lately. Why can’t I trust him for a few hours? Why can’t you?”

Just then Mal returned to the table, his face white as a sheet. “Uhhh … all you guys better hang on to your seats.”

In walked Bill to the dining area. At least the head was Bill’s. He was dressed in Gwen’s lilac blouse, with an obvious bra underneath. There were two modest protrusions in the bra cups simulating breasts. A black midi skirt adorned his lower body; his bare legs appeared to be shaved (!) and women’s flats were on his feet. His eyebrows appeared to have been plucked (by an amateur; there was an obvious imbalance from left to right). A lightly colored lip gloss had been applied around his mouth. His closed mouth. All other mouths at the table were gaping wide, and speechless. Bill did speak, though; in a light, high pitched voice.

“Hi Momma. Hi Poppa. Hi, Mal and Angie. It’s good to meet you. My name is …
Willow.”

~o~O~o~

To be continued tomorrow.

If you've gotten this far, please leave a comment! Don't make me reach through the screen and tweak your nose!

Thanks for reading!

~o~O~o~

“Willow” waited for her family to say something. Not a word was uttered, however. Just slack-jawed staring, combined with confused glances at the others at the table. William and Gwen especially looked at each other, but neither could utter a coherent syllable.

The newest female at the table then shrugged, pulled out her chair, sat down and proceeded to eat.

Gwen finally found her voice. “Bill!? You –“

“Willow, Momma. I’m Willow please.”

William cleared his throat and spoke in a low register to emphasize his authority and displeasure. “Bill. What the –“

“Willow! It’s Willow, Poppa. Please respect my decision.”

The male parent’s face showed even more perplexion. “He … called me Poppa.”

“She called you Poppa. I think she wants to be referred to as a she. And by the way, if she gets to call you Poppa, then I get to call you Dad,” Angie reasoned with a look of triumph.

“Angie,” Gwen whispered. “Did you have anything to do with this?”

“Nope, Mom. But I figured all of ‘her’ recent sweet disposition was leading up to something. I’ve learned to expect anything when it comes to Bill – OOPS! So sorry, I meant Willow.”

“No apology needed, Sis. Thank you for correcting yourself. I never want to be called ‘Bill’ ever again.”

“No problem,” said Mal. “I’ll only call you retarded from now on, OK?”

Mal then tore into his grub with the urgency of any young teen male. Willow ate her meal slowly and gracefully. The rest of the plated food got cooler as the other family members carefully addressed the former ‘Bill’.

“When did you get yourself ready like this? Just this morning you were your usual appearance,” asked Gwen.

“I shaved my legs and plucked my brows in my bathroom earlier in the afternoon; I used the rest of the time to dress. I’m still new to this, so it took me a while to get everything as good as I could.”

William whispered towards his wife. “Still willing to trust him to be left alone?”

Gwen snapped her head around to give him an angry stare. “You are NOT being helpful,” she growled.

“Momma,” Willow spoke. “I do need more practice and guidance with dressing, makeup, and – when it grows longer – hair. Would you help me?”

The mother shook her head emphatically. “No. Bill, you-“

“Momma! Please. It’s Willow now.”

Gwen clenched her teeth, and her eyes became wet. “No! No, it’s not. You are Bill. And this is all just an elaborate stunt, like William had been telling me. I was a fool to get my hopes up that you were sincere in your changing. And if this is real – if it’s not just a stunt – then it’s wrong. It’s morally wrong, and I cannot accept it or endorse it!”

“Momma. The Episcopal Church has officially accepted gays and transgenders as legitimate people. I read it on Wikipedia, after completing my other computer assignments.”

“Not all Episcopal congregations, Bill! The church we attend has broken away from the national leadership on this issue. The bible says that men are not to dress in women’s clothing. Now that is that. And you are going to change out of my clothes – hey, wait. How did you get ahold of my clothes?”

“Two days ago, Momma. You left your bedroom door unlocked while you were in the master bath showering. I got into your closet to get what I needed. It just took me a few days to build up the courage to present in front of you as Willow.”

“Bill. You will go to your room and take my things off – NOW. You may come back and finish your supper when you are in male attire. And never, ever dress in women’s clothes again.”

Willow’s face fell. “Okay, Momma.” She slowly stood up.

“Aw, the retarded sissy’s gonna cry,” laughed Mal.

“NO,” Willow snapped back at her brother. “I won’t. I haven’t wept since I was in kindergarten. Dad – our birth dad – spanked me, and I vowed no one would make me cry again. I’ve forgotten how to do it; don’t think I could if I wanted to. But even without tears, this really hurts, Momma.”

She then walked back to her bedroom. Gwen noticed that her child didn’t walk off in his usual angry stomp.

“Okay, everyone,” Gwen barked to the rest at the table. “I need all of us on board with this. I will not tolerate Bill being a drag queen or transvestite or whatever you call them. It’s wrong, and we’re going to resist this and reject it. We agree, right?”

“Oh yeah. I’m gonna have so much fun with this,” chuckled Malachi.

Angela sighed. “Mom, I’m going to leave this to you and Dad. I’ll be Switzerland, okay? The way I’ve survived this war with Bill these last few years is by staying out of the line of fire; I’d rather continue that way.”

Gwen looked at William. “You agree with me, right?”

“Um …. Not 100%.”

“WHAT??”

“Now, hang on. I mean you and I hold different opinions about transgender people. I think they are real, and have a right to exist and live their lives how they want – despite what our local church leaders think. But in Bill’s case, I don’t believe for one second that this is real. I think he’s angling for a way out of the current restrictions, or maybe he’s trying to find a way to leave the family. So yes, I think he shouldn’t be allowed to dress as a girl. We agree on the end strategy, we just get there in different ways.”

Gwen sighed. “That’s not the answer I was hoping for, but I’ll take what I can get. Let me heat up everyone’s plates in the microwave; I’m sure the food’s as cold as ice.”

~o~O~o~

Thirty minutes later, Gwen knocked on Bill’s bedroom door while holding the half eaten plate of food she’d left at the table.

“Bill. Have you changed into boy clothes?”

“Willow, Momma. I took off all of your stuff; it’s folded on top of my bedside table.”

“Good, son! I’m coming in with your supper, ‘kay?”

“WAIT! I’m not decent! Um … okay, you can come in now.”

His mother walked in to find Willow sitting on the bed, her blanket wrapping her and covering her from ankles to neck.

Gwen’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t have ANYTHING on?”

“Momma; I have to return your clothes – they’re not mine. I have some more in my closet and drawers that you can take back too. I can’t force you to let me use them. And you can’t force me to wear boy stuff. I refuse to live a lie one second longer. So until I can wear what’s right for me, I’ll go naked. I am hungry still; can I finish my plate?”

The adult woman stood there shaking her head silently. She picked up the stack of clothes and sat the plate down on the spot they had been. “Bill, get me the rest of my clothes out of your closet and drawers and I’ll pick them up in the morning. I’ll talk further with you then.” She turned to leave the room.

“Momma?”

She stopped and turned her head back to her child. “Call me ‘Mom’ like you used to, not ‘Momma’. Now what did you need?”

“Just reminding you. It’s Willow, please. Not Bill.”

~o~O~o~

The next morning Gwen knocked on Willow’s door once more. She decided to crack it open just slightly and speak through the opening.

“Honey? I need you to get up. I got us in to see your counselor this morning. The appointment is for 10 AM so you need to get dressed.”

Great; even sooner than I hoped! Thought Willow. “Good morning, Momma. Can I wear a blouse and skirt?”

“NO. Things have not changed since we talked last night!”

~o~O~o~

Gwen drove both of them to the appointment; she smiled at her son. “See? Jeans and a T-shirt looks fine on you.”

Willow sat in the passenger seat, arms crossed. “These are okay for a girl to wear on a casual indoor day, or to work around the house in. But it’s way too sloppy to wear out in public.”

“Okay, honey.” Honey was a useful term; it was unisex, and wouldn’t draw a “Willow, please,” from her son. “Honey, when we see the counselor, I need you to be open with your feelings. I know you hate him –“

“No I don’t, Momma. In fact, I’m looking forward to it. I’m hoping he’ll understand me in a way that you can’t right now.”

“I want to warn you: I’m sitting in on this session. Your stepdad will also; he cancelled a few appointments to be part of this. What happens this morning may have huge effects on how we treat you from here on out.”

I’m counting on it, Bill thought silently, hiding under Willow’s persona.

~o~O~o~

Andrew Kaplan, LCC, just finished his first patients of the day, another rebellious teen vs. overstrict parent scenario. The rift between the father and son seemed huge, but it was their first session so he was nowhere near giving up hope. However this next case, an urgent work-in, was one he had called nearly intractable when he last saw them three months ago. William and Gwen Eiken, and Gwen’s son Bill. The mother was open to discussion, but her husband’s mind was set in stone. And the son – he just wouldn’t open up, not a word. After 8 weekly sessions of getting nowhere, Andrew had recommended a different therapist or none at all.

So I wonder what has changed, he thought.

Fifteen minutes later his mind was blown. Bill declaring as a transgender was the last thing on earth he would have suspected. Gwen and William had given their observations and opinions on Bill’s new revelations. For the first time that the counselor had ever seen, Bill’s parents seemed to disagree somewhat about what was going on. Their child sat patiently in a separate chair, staying silent. Until both parents finished – then he said “Mr. Kaplan, may I give you my side of the story?”

“Why of course, Bill. Would you prefer I call you Willow?”

Willow burst into a smile. “YES, please!”

“I’m sure I will have some questions of you, but why don’t you say whatever you want to say right now?”

Willow took a deep breath. “I know it’s hard for Momma and Poppa to understand how I could show no feminine traits at all for fifteen years, then come out as Willow. All I can say is that I’ve been really restless and unhappy for all my life and couldn’t figure out why. You even told me, Poppa. You said there was a deep dissatisfaction in me – and I realized you were right. The source of it is that I was born in the wrong body.”

“Wait,” said William, massaging his forehead furiously. “How did you come upon that theory?”

“I started thinking, meditating, after you told me that. I realized when I looked at girls, it was with envy, not lust. And when I thought about living my life as a woman, I felt an overwhelming peace come over me – I didn’t want to do any more fighting or rebelling. I don’t want the macho; I don’t want to be a “playa” in the drug game. I want to dress with grace and beauty; I want to be a soft body who gets held by a hard body every night; I even dream about having a vagina and being filled by a _”

“No more detail is needed Willow,” coughed Mr. Kaplan rather loudly. “It sounds like you only came to this conclusion in the last few weeks. How can you be so sure that this really is the right path for you?”

“I – I don’t know. How CAN I know? If I’m not allowed to live as a woman, I’ll never find out if this is the actual truth for me or not. And Momma and Poppa won’t let me.”

Andrew looked at the parents. “How would you feel about a trial period of letting Willow dress as she feels?”

“You cannot be serious,” said William with a violent shake of the head. “Can’t you see that he’s playing you? Bill is a master manipulator, and you’re taking it hook, line and sinker.”

“That’s a possibility. One of my main jobs is to sniff out truth-twisters, and I can’t tell yet if your son is or isn’t in this case. But even if he is, consider this: if you give in to this demand and only this demand, then you’re likely to see if Bill/Willow is really serious about this or not. Give it anywhere from one to six months.” Andrew now turned to Willow. “Would that satisfy you for now?”

Six months of dressing in dresses and still being under my parent’s thumb? NO WAY. “No, Mr. Kaplan. It’s, um … too little of a change, because … Think! Because what? … ah! … because puberty has started. If I don’t block it I’ll get a deeper voice, chest and beard hairs … my life will be ruined!”

“That’s a valid concern. Going on testosterone blockers is not too drastic if it’s only for a few months. I could refer you to an endocrinologist to do so.”

“You,” said William, rising, “are a gullible quack. We are not doing this.”

That’s it. Ignore the professional recommendation; that will be good ammo for me to use in court, Bill thought with glee. “Mr. Kaplan – can I speak to you without my parents around? Just for a minute,” Willow asked.

“Sure, Willow. Mr. and Mrs. Eiken, would you mind stepping out to the waiting room for this?

“Yes, I would mind. I need to hear what Bill has to say,” William asserted.

Counselor Andrew looked back at William with authority of his own. “If Willow tells me anything that you absolutely must know, I’ll relay it to you. But she deserves to open up in a safe, comfortable environment. Which is not what we have right now.”

Stung by the rebuke, William left the room – grumbling. Gwen followed.

Andrew exhaled as the door shut. “Now, Willow. What do you need to say?”

“Mr. Kaplan – thanks for hearing me out. I know Momma and Poppa are not going to let me live as a woman; look how she forced me to dress to meet you today! What needs to happen is legal action. I’ve been consulting with Lawzip, an online legal source, and have filled out the initial paperwork to be declared an emancipated minor. What I need is your strong recommendation supporting that, because it’s the only way I can live my true life – as a female. Could you do that for me today, if possible?”

Andrew sat and peered at Willow, scratching his chin. He remained silent for an eternal minute, looking into the child’s eyes then staring at the ceiling. Back and forth went his gaze as he contemplated.

He suddenly sat up straight. “No, Willow. If you need to take that drastic step, you should have someone besides a ‘general practitioner’ counselor. We need to get you to a specialist. You should pull him aside, as you did with me, and see if he’ll give you that recommendation; it’ll carry more weight coming from him. Let’s get your parents back in here.”

“Please don’t tell them what I just told you! They’ll ground me ‘til summer!”

“Don’t worry, Willow. I’ll be discreet,” Andrew smiled. He called her parents to re-enter the room.

Andrew addressed William and Gwen. “As I told Willow, I’m a general family counselor. If you don’t agree with my assessment, why not get a second opinion from a gender specialist? If he agrees with you two, then the matter’s settled. Try Dr. Philip Estrada; he’s an MD who also does his own gender counseling. There’s really no one else like him. I’ll make a call and see if he can squeeze you in this week.”

~o~O~o~

Later that week.

The trio were in Dr. Estrada’s office. The main body of the consultation was similar to the appointment with Andrew Kaplan a few days prior. Willow waited until the hour was almost up to ask for a private moment with the doctor; she explained her intentions as she had with Mr. Kaplan

“So that’s what I need – your recommendation that I be allowed to be emancipated as a minor. That’s the only way I’ll be able to be complete. Please,” she entreated.

Dr. Estrada tapped his pen on the desk in the therapy room. “That breaks up your family. I get the sense they really care about your well-being; they just oppose you in this one issue. Don’t worry, Willow. I’m going to take care of this for you. Mary, call the Eikens back into this room,” he spoke into his office phone.

“Doc, don’t tell them what I told you – about the legal stuff!” said an alarmed Willow.

“Trust me, young one.” The doc winked at Willow to reassure her.

The doctor’s tone became firm when William and Gwen were once again present. “I know you are determined to not allow Willow to dress or live as a female, despite my strong recommendation to the contrary. Just know this: she’s likely to suffer emotionally and psychologically as a result. I cannot overemphasize how important it is that she be allowed to be who she sees herself as. If you don’t allow it, there may be consequences.”

William was taken aback. “Consequences?”

“CPS – Child Protective Services – might need to intervene. They could place Willow in the correct environment; it might be a foster home, but she would be allowed to dress. And I would testify as to her absolute need to live as a woman; that would authorize them to take whatever action they needed to. Or, you could just allow Willow to live as a female, and none of that will be needed.”

No, no, no, no, Willow thought. Let me do this plan my way – don’t force their hand now!

“Doctor – give me and my wife a minute, please,” said William as he arose and pulled Gwen out into the hall. He walked with her to the far end, where they could talk.

“This was a huge mistake, seeing this ‘gender specialist’ doc!” he muttered. “It’s like he had his mind made up as soon as Bill spoke. Then he comes down hard on us! Our opinion was tossed out like trash.”

Gwen agreed. “He’s insinuating that any bad outcome would be our fault; suggesting that he could have CPS take us to court. What if they decided to call it child abuse!?”

“I don’t know. Would they really go that far?”

Gwen was panicked. “Honey! What are we going to do? That doctor/counselor just told us to allow Bill to be ‘Willow’ for up to half a year. He told Bill to file a court case against us if we didn’t, and said he’d testify on Bill’s behalf! We’d be seen as bigoted transphobic child abusers. Maybe … maybe we should just end all the grounding on Bill and let him go back to school; let him see his friends and stay out late as much as he wants.”

“No, baby. We’re still responsible and accountable for him until age 17. What if he sells drugs to some kid who gets behind the wheel while high? If that kid kills someone, they’ll come after us. Because we’re ultimately liable for anything he does. Better for him to dress as a female than for that to happen.”

“William!”

“I know, I know. I can’t believe I’m saying it either.”

“It’s immoral! It’s a sin!”

“So is dealing drugs. God help me, I don’t see any other path to take. If Bill is faking this – and I still believe he is – then he won’t be too thrilled about us letting him stay and ‘allowing’ him to dress as a girl; I’ll bet he won’t last a week. But who knows? He’s so stubborn, he might go longer.”

“So … so that’s it, then. That’s what we’re doing. Oh God.” Gwen’s face drained of color.

“You want to tell him now or later?”

“Now. I’ll do it. No use in prolonging this.” Gwen marched back to the room, William in tow.

“Um, Willow,” Gwen said. “We’re going to allow you to dress as a girl for up to 6 months. I’ll give you a stipend and take you shopping for clothes, makeup and accessories. We want to do right by you, and by Dr. Estrada. We’re not allowing you to get on any testosterone blockers; just dressing.” She then turned away, dabbing her eyes with tissues as she did.

Dr. Estrada smiled. “What do you think about that, Willow?”

The child in question was numb, shocked. “You … you’re actually going to let me live as a girl? This is actually happening?”

William raised an eyebrow. “Yes. Aren’t you happy?”

She shook herself out of her daze. Keep acting! Don’t blow it! “Oh Momma, Poppa – thank you so much! Thank you thank you thank you!” She hugged her parents with a huge smile on her face and - if one looked closely enough – a bit of panic in her eyes.

~o~O~o~

Bernard. U there?

Yeah. How did visit 2 tranny counselor go?

BAD. He was gr8 at 1st, telling ‘rents they had 2 let me dress as girl. Should have left it there; they would have said no, and I could quickly sue for emancipation. But then he started TALKING ABOUT me suing, and it scared Mom, so now they r gonna let me dress as girl 4 trial period. I still have 2 stay @ home!

Bummer. How long is trial period

6 MONTHS!!!

Yikes

Ain’t waitin that long. Going w/ addendum to plan

Uh-oh. What’s that?

~o~O~o~

Bill got up early enough to catch a quick breakfast with the rest of his family. They were hustling to make it to work and school. He was in a T-shirt and gym shorts, amusedly watching the morning chaos.

“Willow!” barked his mother. The loudness made Bill jump. “Wake up, little missy! That’s the 3rd time I called you just now; did you forget your name?”

Bill belatedly switched his mind into Willow mode. “I’m sorry, Momma. I need to drink some coffee I guess; must still be sleepy.”

“Well, you’ll need to be alert; it’s a big day ahead of us. I’m taking you shopping for what you’ll need to dress and present fully as a female.”

“Yay!” Willow feigned with all of the fake enthusiasm she could muster.

“I pulled some of my clothes out that should fit you. They’re stacked in a little pile on the table in the hallway. Can you get dressed and be ready to go in say, half an hour? I’ll help you with some basic makeup before we leave. Realize since we’re just getting started, you probably won’t ‘pass’ as a woman very well today.”

Willow did indeed need to focus – on keeping up her female persona as she and Gwen hit store after store. She set her mind on acting thrilled with this new reality, one where she was to occupy the outward appearance of a woman as realistically as possible.

The mother/daughter combo hit the mall first. “Don’t get your hopes up about high fashion just yet,” Gwen warned. “We’re just getting started, and this will be an unexpected hit to this month’s budget. So JC Penney will have to do.”

Willow got all of her basics – panties, Wonderbras, hose, slips, Spanx – first. Then to the shoe department for some flats, multiple types of sandals, and one pair of 3 inch heels “for training in high heel walking” per Gwen. Following this were enough clothes that Willow wondered if she’d ever leave the dressing area. She ended up with four blouses, two sweaters, three skirts (one flowy midi, one pleated, one skater skirt “to show off your legs”), two pair each of slacks and jeans (women’s) and one semiformal dress that would be appropriate for church, if it came to that.

The next stop was Elle’s salon, in the same mall wing. Willow got her first facial makeover there, and from that her makeup needs were determined. Her hair wasn’t long enough to do much with; it was still in a short boy’s cut, not a buzz but too close to style. “I’ll do your nails at home; let’s get your ears pierced,” said Gwen.

The day was topped off – literally – with the purchase of a wig. “You’ll have times when you need to blend in; it’ll take nearly half a year to grow your own to a passable length, I’m guessing,” advised Willow’s mom. The piece was a brunette long bob that fell just short of the shoulders.

“Shopping is exhausting,” puffed Willow while laid out on the back seat of the car.

“The day’s not done yet. We need to open those packages of panties, hose and bras. I ‘guesstimated’ the size for you, but you need to try them on. I’m turning onto Las Hongas steet now – almost home.”

~o~O~o~

Gwen yelled through Willow’s bathroom door. “Willow. Do the panties fit?”

“Just a minute, Momma.”

“It’s been five minutes, honey.”

“I’ve – I’ve got a situation, here. Give me just two more minutes!”

Finally Willow let Gwen in. The Mom sniffed twice and shook her head at her new daughter.

“Did you deal with the ‘situation’ Willow?”

“Yes, Momma.”

“I’ll bet your panties cover your crotch a lot better since you took care of your erection.”

Willow’s face flushed deep red. “What! I didn’t – I mean, how did you –“ her voice dropped to a whisper. “God, just let me die now.”

“The musky smell in here made it pretty obvious. If you had used some deodorizer and washed your hands –“

“Momma that’s enough! I – I’ve never felt tight smooth fabric down there before, OK? I didn’t expect to react to it! How am I ever going to pass with a constant groin bulge?

“Hmmm … we should have gotten you a bubble skirt.”

“That doesn’t sound like a solution! I may have to research on the computer, to see how other trans girls deal with this. Do I have your permission to do so?”

~o~O~o~

“Momma, please come here – I’ve found what I need. Can you order some for me with next day delivery?”

“Okay, Willow; let me see what you pulled up on the screen. Hmmm. A “gaffe”, eh? That keeps you … “pulled back”? Ooo-kayyyy … let’s order you a few. I wonder why they have women modeling them when they’re for men who are trying to –“

“Momma. Those models are men. They just have good makeup and prostheses, or maybe some are on hormones.”

**URK!** - “Good God. Let’s get this ordered and get off of this page. I’m looking at scantily clad men? This is practically a porno site!”

“Momma, you wouldn’t say that about a regular women’s lingerie catalog.”

“Honey – I’ve submitted the order. And I’m closing the page. And those things better last you, because I don’t ever want to go to that site – or one like it – again.”

“Get ready, Momma; there’s a lot more things like this you may have to get used to.” Although I hope you freak out, try to force me to live as a guy, and then maybe I can sue for emancipation, Willow silently reasoned.

~o~O~o~

Willow dressed exclusively as a female for the next 7 days. She developed a daily routine to keep the ruse going – and to keep her sane.

First, Bill got up at 5:30 AM to meditate, or (as he called it) focus.

I am Bill Ramos. Street handle Willy the Dude. I am the baddest 15 year old SOB on the planet; I am running the biggest one man sting operation in M****F**** recorded history. The acting I pull off will win an Oscar next February. Today I will become a sweet little teenage girl named Willow. I will eat gently, walk and speak softly, say please and thank you and Momma and Poppa and OMG that’s so cute!! And I will drive my folks crazy and win my freedom, fully and legally. Then after age 17 I will come back and show my stupid family how I duped them all just before I say good f**** riddance for the very last time.

Now: I am Willow. Calm. Gentle. Quiet. Caring (that one’s tough). Obedient (tougher!). And in love with frilly clothes and make-up.

Next she showered, shaved (legs and pits, as well as a few that would pop up on her chin), and lotioned. She applied deodorant and got dressed in her lingerie. Outfits were easier than expected; she had discovered a talent for pairing clothes. Then Gwen would enter and help apply makeup. Finally, she’d be ready for the day at home.

~o~O~o~

Thus Willow’s plan to gain freedom from her parents and rules was in full swing. The shock over her first appearance at dinner had been perfect. The conflict between Gwen, William and the gender specialist was promising at first. But now the plan seemed to be stuck; her folks were allowing her to wear skirts and dresses. Their consent was grudging at first, but now it seemed that the whole family was more accepting of Willow than they’d ever been with Bill – well, at least in Bill’s last 2-3 years. So as she had told Bernard, it was time to throw an addendum into the plan.

“Momma, I need something different for my boobies. The socks aren’t cutting it.”

“Really? I’ve heard about bags of bird seed …”

“No thanks. I’d be afraid to walk through the park and the tons of pigeons there; can you imagine the feeding frenzy around my bosom? I need something more realistic.”

Gwen sighed. “I told you, our budget is stretched thin. Good breast prostheses are pretty expensive.”

“That’s not what I mean. I need my own breasts, Momma. I need to get on woman hormones. I need the man blockers, too. So I will stop developing ugly man hairs and shapes, and make female curves.”

“Wha … Willow. I told you last time you brought this up – these are major steps you’re asking for. The effects are permanent, I think!”

No they aren’t, not for at least a few months. But you don’t need to know that yet, thought Willow.

Gwen shook her head. “NO. No, Willow. You need more time to experience living as a girl before you decide to actually change into one!”

“Momma! I AM a girl already in my mind, in my soul! I – I need this so badly! I can’t STAND being a boy. I want it all – the hormones, the sex change surgery, the face and throat surgeries. I want boob and butt implants too. I can’t afford to get any more manly than I already have!”

“Honey – look in the mirror. You’re more girl than boy in your appearance; isn’t that enough for now? Your muscles are getting thinner because you’re not lifting weights, and you have no facial hair!”

“That’s because I shaved my chin this morning. And I’m starting to get chest hairs! We’ve got to do something, NOW! My voice is just starting to crack and change; maybe blockers and hormones could stop that. If not, in a few months I’ll sound like Darth Vader! Pleeeease, Momma!”

I wish I knew how to cry; a few tears would really frost the cake. ‘Momma’ looks like she’s about to explode, Willow mused.

The “new girl” may not have been able to cry, but her mother now was doing enough weeping for both of them. Gwen’s face was flushed, and she grimaced through her sobs. Her hands covered her ears tightly. “NO! I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS! I WON’T ALLOW YOU TO CHEMICALLY MUTILATE YOURSELF! GO – GO TO YOUR ROOM, BILL!”

“Willow, Momma. It's Willow.” The teenager turned and walked to her room. With her back to her mother now, she allowed a smug grin to erupt on her face.

~o~O~o~

To be continued tomorrow.

If you've gotten this far, please leave a comment! Don't make me reach through the screen and tweak your nose!

Thanks for reading!

~o~O~o~

Later that day, in the Eiken’s master bedroom (with the door locked):

“Allowing him to dress up – full time, no less! – was a huge mistake. We need to put our foot down and force him to act and dress as what he really is – a BOY.”

Gwen had been ranting for the last twelve minutes. William listened without saying anything; now, though, he needed to respond. “Force him? How? At gunpoint? He’s already shown us he’d rather be nude than do clothes he doesn’t want.”

“Why is he acting like this, William? His personality changed two weeks ago, and he’s been in skirts for the last week. If this is not real, it’s lasting longer than I would have ever thought possible! I mean, who can fake it that long?”

“I know. It has me flabbergasted, as your Dad would say. Gwen … I think we need to consider that this could be a real thing. Bill could … I can’t believe I’m saying this … really be transgendered.”

“I know you believe in all that trans stuff. I don’t. It’s a mental illness at best. And you don’t treat mental illness by saying ‘just live that way’. That wouldn’t work with a schizophrenic!”

“No matter which one of us is right, in less than 2 years Bill will be a legal adult. How will our relationship be with him if he still chooses to become a woman? Do we shut him out? Say he’s dead to us? Or endure uncomfortable holidays together for the rest of our lives? At some point, would you accept him?”

Gwen glared at her spouse with anger. “Whose f**ing side are you on, you bastard? If you don’t support me on this, then Satan wins – perversion wins! And if that happens, I will hold you responsible because you didn’t stand with me!”

William’s face felt numb. He’d never heard Gwen so angry, nor so foul-mouthed. “Honey … you’re talking about being godly, fighting evil, and then swearing like a sailor. Do you see the contradiction?”

“DON’T TALK TO ME ABOUT GODLY, YOU HYPOCRITE! GET THE F*** OUT OF MY BEDROOM! OUT OF MY HOUSE! GO SLEEP IN A MOTEL TONIGHT BECAUSE I CAN’T STAND HOW YOU’RE TALKING; I CAN’T STAND YOU!” Gwen threw socks, briefs, and other items for him to grab to show she meant business.

William had never seen his wife come unhinged like this. She was bawling heavily while continuing to grab some of his clothes from the closet. He decided to swing for the fences as a last gasp effort to salvage this situation. Walking into the closet, he grabbed Gwen and held her firmly against his chest, not hard enough to cause pain or restrict breathing, but definitely preventing her from using her arms.

“LET ME GO! I WILL CALL THE COPS ON YOU, YOU …”

“Baby, it’s going to be okay,” William whispered into her ear. “Don’t do this. I love you, and I am always on your side. We may disagree on some things, but we are a team and I will never break us up. Please just breathe. Don’t talk, just breathe. I love you.”

Gwen twisted a few more times. “NO … LET ME … LET …” She gave up and suddenly went limp, continuing to bawl. William eased both of them down to the floor of the closet; he knelt there, still holding her, still whispering encouragement in her ear.

Willow and her older sister Angie stood in the hallway outside their parent’s bedroom; they’d been there ever since the loud yelling had started. Angie was visibly scared and crying; her Mom and Dad had never fought like this. Willow’s eyes looked distressed, and she kept her mouth covered with both hands. That was necessary to hide the fact that she was smiling widely.

Looks like Mom and Stepdevil’s marriage is on the rocks. That helps the plan. If I can split them up, mom won’t have the energy to keep me grounded here at home. And I’ll never have to put up with Stepshit’s rules ever again. This “addendum” is working better than I hoped. Freedom, here I come!

~o~O~o~

Dude I did it – told Mom I wanted hormones

And?

TOTAL FREAK OUT. Said I had to stop dressing. Stepdad came home, they got into huge fight. They might break up! Good news totally!

So you going to take hormones?

NO dude. It should not even get that far. I WILL demand them even more, and the folks will either fight more and break up or they will let me go to save marriage. Win-win.

U sure dude. I mean, HORMONES. What if they decide to have u take them?

There is NO WAY they will let me take them. Chill dude.

Worried. B careful.

Aw Bernard. U so sweet. U best boyfriend a chick like me could ask 4.

BILL WHAT

Psych, dude! ROFLMAO!

~o~O~o~

The next night, Gwen received a call on the home phone in the living room. She looked at the caller ID: Roberto Ramos. She sighed and answered. “What do you need, Robby?”

“Well, hello to you too,” said the voice on the receiver. “That’s a rude way to answer the phone, even for your ex-husband.”

“You only call if you’re in need. It would be great if you called regularly just to shoot the breeze with one of your three kids. But no, it’s only once or twice a year, and then it’s for a favor, or money, or something. So …?”

“I’m going to make you a liar, Gwen. See, I AM calling to see if I can come over and talk to one of our kids.”

“Only one? Let me guess. Bill.”

“Yeah. Is it true what I heard? That he’s a pansy little sissy now?”

“Where did you hear that?”

“Malachi told me. Sometimes I call him on his cell. He still speaks to me nice, like a son should treat his father.”

That’s because I divorced you when he was 5; too young to remember how horrible you were, Gwen fumed silently. “Malachi described Bill as a pansy sissy? Those words?”

“No. He said his bro was wearing dresses. How in the hell are you letting him do that? What did you do to him? l bet the problem is that damn homeschooling; all he does is hang around with ‘Mommy’ all day, and now he wants to be you.”

She ignored the verbal insults. “Robby. If ‘Willow’ wants to talk with you on the phone, then I’ll let her. But if you get abusive or threatening, then the conversation’s over.”

“You mean I can’t come over in person?”

“Did you hear the words ‘abusive’ and ‘threatening’? You were a hair’s breadth from assaulting me the last time we met in person. This talk happens on the phone or not at all.”

“Fine. Get the faggot on the line.”

Gwen went to the home intercom. “Willow – please come out to the living room. Your dad – Roberto – is on the phone and wants to talk.”

Willow came, wearing a spaghetti strap top and a denim mini skirt along with some make up and her wig. “Talk? About what?”

“He heard about your dressing, and he’s not happy. You don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want.”

“No, I’ll have to some time. Might as well get it over with.” She reached for the phone.

“Honey, do it via speaker. If he gets bad, I need to hear it.” Willow nodded and punched the SPEAKERPHONE button on the phone base.

“Hello, Dad.”

“Bill? What’s this-“

“Dad. It’s Willow now.”

“SON. What’s this I hear about you wanting to be a girl?”

“I don’t want to be; I am one. I should have been one from the start,”

“Uh, Bill –“

“Willow.”

“SON! You were never a girl. You, of all my kids, were the most boyish of boys. I dreamed of us cruising the strip someday with some hookers and a bottle of tequila, father and son. What the hell happened?”

Willow decided to turn the sugar and spice up to 200%. “Daddy. Can I call you that? I really want to. Anyway, Daddy – I’ve been living a lie all my life, and I just didn’t realize it until this month. I’m not your son, Daddy; I’m your daughter.”

“So do you rent chick flicks and cry a river watching them?”

Willow’s tone became suddenly harsh. “No, Daddy. I may be a girl now, but I still don’t cry. I can’t cry; it doesn’t ‘happen’ for me. Not since –“

“Yeah, yeah, you’ve told me. Not since I spanked you so hard as a little kid that I left welts on your butt. That was good for you, SON. It hardened you up. Until you decided to do this girly act. I have to tell you, this is a huge disappointment for me, you being like this. I need to let people know that whatever made you do this, it ain’t from me. None of your freaky faggot flamin’ tranny tendencies are from my side of the family, got it? In fact, just don’t consider me your Dad until you come to your senses. And I better not ever hear you call me ‘Daddy’ one goddamn time more. Do you hear me, you piece of shit?”

Gwen gasped and reached out for the END CALL button, but Willow’s left hand blocked her. The girl glanced at her mother and did a quick shake of the head. She remained silent; her eyes were wide open, her breathing slow and measured, with just a slight tremor in her clenched, white knuckled right hand. In her head, a savage conflict was occurring.

Don’t lose it, don’t lose it, don’t blow it, don’t blow your top THAT SON OF A BITCH I’LL SHOVE HIS no, no, no, NO, no I won’t! If I revert to Bill now I blow the plan! That bastard doesn’t deserve to have me throw away my freedom for him. There’s another way to get him. Yes, that’s it. Breathe. In. Out. Ahhh. Now … what would Willow say?

“Hey – I said, do you hear me, you piece of-“

“YES. Yes I heard you, loud and clear. Look, sir. You may hate my guts. Fine; I still need to be who I need to be. And no matter how much hate you give me, I’m going to always have a love for you. ‘Cause you’re my Daddy. But I won’t allow you to see me or talk to me ever again.

“I’ll have a successful life without you, Daddy. I’m going to wear bikinis at the beach and have boys want me. I’m going to get married someday in a huge white dress, and have my husband take me to Tahiti for our honeymoon. He’ll be making love to me under the stars. As he does, I’ll be thanking you, Daddy.

“See, I’m a girl because of you. I grew up with you as the man in my life. I saw you hitting your wife and kids. I saw you ignore us and steal from us, and stay drunk all weekend every weekend. So a few weeks ago I realized: If you are the example I have to follow to be a man, then I’d rather not be one. Being a girl is so much better than risking growing up to be like you.

“Now you have a nice life, Daddy. Goodbye.”

Willow punched the end call button and turned to her stunned mother. She took a big breath then exhaled it.

“Momma, I – I need something to cool me down.”

“You and me both, Willow. There’s some Blue Bell ice cream in the freezer; I’ll scoop us some. And by the way, daughter – I’m so proud of you.”

~o~O~o~

The tension in the Eiken’s Cadillac Escalade was high. Willliam was driving; he’d rescheduled two patients and drove home so he, Gwen and Willow could go to Dr. Estrada’s office for their appointment. Willow had forced the issue, demanding to get started on testosterone blockers and hormones. She refused to let the subject drop and had been pleading day and night for most of the week to get her way.

Gwen held her husband’s right hand from her spot in the front passenger seat. The couple had talked about how to deal with these demands. William was pretty sure that she couldn’t get a hormone prescription at the age of 15; he’d done some internet research regarding transgender estrogen therapy. Gwen explained that to Willow, but she refused to accept the information from her parents. So today Dr. Estrada would give Willow the news and she’d have to accept it. It seemed a simple thing to accomplish.

So why is my stomach doing flip-flops, wondered Gwen.

Willow continued to act cool, but inside she was determined and just a little concerned. Things were never supposed to have gotten this far. She’d been sure that her demands would have had her kicked out for being a biblical abomination; either that, or her Mom and Stepdad would have fought so bad they’d have split up, weakening their resolve on her perpetual grounding. Either way, there was no way that her parents would consider allowing her to take chemicals to change her sex. Except now the three of them were going to the gender specialist to discuss that very thing.

The teenager had dressed up in her most girly presentation so far: a bright yellow sundress with a floral sash, strappy sandals on her feet, large hoops dangling from her ears. Her skills in dressing and makeup had really blossomed over the last two weeks. Finger and toenails were painted yellow, eyebrows were evenly thin and arched, eyes were gorgeously adorned with shadow, liner and mascara. Her long bob wig was framed perfectly around her face. A light spritz of Chloe’ perfume topped off this ultra-feminine cupcake.

Maybe as the folks see me like this it will push them further towards the edge. Maybe the Professor will think I’m doing too much to fast, and will tell me to back off. Either way, I can’t let any of them know this is just a sting. Don’t abandon the plan. Except as a last resort. What would a “last resort’ situation be? Willow wondered.

“Hello, Eiken family. Is everyone comfortable?” Dr. Estrada entered the therapy room where Willow and her folks had been waiting. He was a heavy-set fellow with some moderate male pattern baldness; his hair was black with grey mixed in. Thick glasses sat on his nose, and his brown jacket squeezed a little too tight around his shoulders as he sat down and leaned towards his clients.

"Well, I was comfortable," replied Willow, "until your nurse poked me with a needle to draw blood as soon as I got here. What was that for?"

“It has everything to do with the reason that you are here; I need to check your baseline levels if we consider therapy. After all," Estrada stated, "I was told by my assistant that you, young lady, want to start on medication?”

Willow spoke up. “Yes sir, please. I can’t stand the thought of puberty changing me into a man; that grosses me out.”

“You are in the midst of male puberty right now, Willow. Your voice seems a little more masculine than the average child’s, but not really drastically low in tone. Your muscles have some definition, and your shoulders appear to be getting wide. Hair growth is starting on your chin, though I didn’t see any on your torso during my first exam. It’s impossible to tell how much more masculine you’ll get, but I suspect you have a lot more to come – unless we intervene.”

“Ugh! I hate my chin hair! We’ve got to do something. Starting hormones now is my best chance to become as real a girl as I can, right?”

“But wasn’t it just a few months ago that you were doing many macho things of your own volition? Lifting weights and getting all those muscles; talking with your stepfather about ‘getting a chica so I can get some pussy’?”

“Well, I still would like a pussy – but I want to own it,” she smiled. “I think I acted macho to try to drown out any girl urges.” At least that’s what all those online transgender testimonials say, Willow thought. “I muscled up and joined the army because I was …” what’s the word they used?

“So you think you were overcompensating?” offered Estrada.

THAT’S the word! “Yes – I think that’s why. But I am so much calmer; life is so much sweeter now that I’m living my true life. It will be ruined if I get all hairy and deep-voiced, though! But my parents – ESPECIALLY my Momma – won’t allow it! I think William disagrees with her on this, and they have been fighting – hooo boy, have they ever!. The stress level is getting worse and worse. I don’t know if I can continue to live this way.”

“Oh? Willow – have you been considering ending your life?”

“What? NO!” Wait a minute – if I was, would that help my plan? “Uh … I mean, I don’t know - maybe?”

Estrada turned towards the parents. “Has Willow continued to be pleasant and obedient, or has she relapsed into the rebelliousness and anger that she had when she was Bill?”

The mother replied. “Actually, she is an absolute joy. She listens, she minds, she opens up and talks to me at times. And the other day she handled a difficult phone conversation with her birth father with such aplomb and restraint! I have to confess – I absolutely love her as my daughter.” Gwen’s voice started to falter. “The problem is, she isn’t my daughter. She’s my son. I still believe it is morally wrong for my son to change his sex.” Now tears were running down her face.

Prof. Estrada nodded and pursed his lips; then proceeded to a different subject. “You remember that on our first visit I said most transgender girls will want to have hormone therapy; that it’s something you’d eventually have to deal with.”

William’s eyes widened. “But the key word is ‘eventually’, right? Willow’s barely had two weeks of living and dressing like this full time.”

“Yes. However, my theory is that she is highly overdue for her transition; her dysphoria was probably the driving factor behind all of her rebellion and lawbreaking behavior. Further delaying her transition could lead to a relapse of that, I fear. It is absolutely imperative that we start testosterone blockers. And it’s probably advisable to start estrogen as well.”

Gwen now was bawling; William looked as if he was in shock. He finally recovered his voice: “Hey! Everything I’ve read on transgender females and hormone therapy says they usually wait ‘til a child is 18 to start estrogen!”

“That was true. However, the thinking on that is changing. I am one of the ones who believe 15 years old is not too young to start hormone therapy. There are a number of cases around the country now where this has been done.”

“But what if Willow changes her mind later – decides after eight months or so that she really doesn’t want this? These drugs will give her irreversible side effects by then!”

“Probably not completely irreversible. She might want to have her sperm frozen just in case. If she decided to detransition, any effects that lingered probably could be dealt with by surgery. But these are all moot points; I’m nearly 100% confident that she will be fulfilled, happy and more socially and psychologically stable with this medical treatment.”

“But … I don’t feel right about this. I’m a man of science, a professional like you, but this is too fast, too soon, and we’re still too uncertain about Willow’s motives.”

Estrada shrugged. “I don’t sense any deception in her.”

Boy, do I have him fooled, Willow thought. I’m so damn good at this. Too good, maybe. This dude wants to start me on hormone pills! But Mom and William won’t let it happen; then we go to court. This is it, my moment of freedom.

Estrada now frowned at William. “You have valid concerns. But I feel the danger of delaying transition outweighs the dangers of starting now. If you don’t agree, I think you could be putting your own fears above the welfare of your child.”

William paled as he contemplated those words. There it is – the implicit threat of legal action. The doc mentioned Child Protective Services in the previous visit. If I resist, they take Bill away and start the therapy. If I agree, he stays with us and gets the therapy. Either way he gets hormone therapy. My God. It has come to this.

William grabbed Gwen’s hand and squeezed it. “Okay, Doctor. If this is really medically sound, and if Willow really wants it, she can have the blockers.”

“I do recommend the estrogen also,” Estrada added.

“Dammit. Why can’t we …” William’s shoulders were slumped in defeat. “Okay, that too.”

Willow’s jaw hit the floor and her mind went blank.

Estrada smiled. “Excellent. Now, Willow, this is a big decision. Are you sure this is what you want?”

The girl finished scraping her chin off the ceramic tile and responded. “Oh yes! This is my dream come true!” … No problem. I’ll just flush the pills down the john daily. It’ll look like I’m taking them, and I’ll be one of those trannies that the estrogen just doesn’t seem to work on. There are trannies like that, right?

“All right. William, please sign these forms and slips – there are a lot of them. Willow, read through these warnings and what to expect. I’ll be back with your medicines.”

“Hey, wait!” William was looking for a way out of this madness. “Don’t we have to have a second opinion from like an endocrinologist to start this?”

Estrada tilted his head. “Did I not give you my card last time? I’m dual board certified, in psychiatry and endocrinology. A full service gender specialist physician, able to do all but the surgeries. I’ll be back with your shots, young lady.”

When he returned, Willow spoke up. “Shots? Uh, Doctor - can’t I take pills?”

“These injections are what I prefer to use with my patients, Willow. It ensures compliance. They’ll need to go in your buttocks, one for each side. Your mother can act as our female chaperone. Bend over, please.”

And just like that, Willow was on estrogen and blocker therapy.

Estrada gathered up the signed forms. “Included in the consent forms were forms to apply for a legal name and gender change. I’ll get my staff to work on them, but it will take weeks for it all to go through. Meanwhile, Willow, I’ll see you back here every 2 weeks for your shots and your required counseling.” He then left the therapy room.

William stood up unsteadily, still reeling from what had taken place. “I feel like we all just tried to take a quick peek into a sausage machine, got sucked in and spat out the other side, a trio of weenies roasting on the grill.”

Gwen still was sniffling; she walked to Willow and pulled the child’s head to her shoulder. “God, honey … I hope this isn’t a huge mistake … but you’re happy at least, right?”

Willow could manage only a whisper. “Yeah, Momma. Like I said, it’s a dream come true.” She tried to pull up The Plan in her head, but couldn’t find herself on the diagram. She’d gone off the paper, over the edge.

~o~O~o~

To be continued tomorrow.

If you've gotten this far, please leave a comment! Don't make me reach through the screen and tweak your nose!

Thanks for reading!

~o~O~o~

The main evidence of hormonal treatment in the first week was nausea, vomiting and hot flushes. They all began when Willow awoke the next morning after her shots. She had never worshipped at the porcelain throne so much before.

Willow’s attitude began to worsen some. She obviously had trouble reining in her emotions; angry moments began to erupt, though they never progressed to foul language and threats as Bill would have done. Often she felt morose, and could be seen lying on the couch in the living area, pillow pulled over her head. Gwen twice checked on her to see if she might actually be weeping – she never was; just sad and retreating from the world. She also began eating a little more at meals and in between.

A week after the doctor visit, Willow confronted her mother. “MOMMA! Did you dry my clothes on the hot cycle? They seem to be shrinking!”

“No, honey. I mostly cool dry your stuff, since it’s all still fairly new. I think the problem is … you’re growing,” said Gwen, and she softly pushed a finger into Willow’s tummy, hip, deltoid and cheek. “There’s a little more fat on you, all over.”

“How can that be?? Am I eating more than I did as Bill?”

“A little, and you’ve been less active too. But a big reason may be the estrogen, honey. It slows the metabolism; makes it hard to keep weight off. You’ll have to eat a lot less and get some aerobic exercise in. Welcome to our world; Angie and I struggle with this all the time.”

Willow rolled her eyes. “Great. Just great.”

~o~O~o~

Bernard u there
…

Bernard, come in bruh

BILL! Where u been? No text 4 a week now!

Sorry dude. Been down. Don’t kno what 2 do

Uh oh what happened

Should have listened 2u. doctor put me on hormone shots! 1st one last Tuesday

U let Dr give u hormone shot?

Didn’t want 2, folks were there, felt trapped. Mainly stupid Dr’s fault. Mom & stepdad didn’t want me 2 have it either.

DUDE U SHOULDA RAN

NO then Mom & W kno all this was an act, & still on house arrest for almost 2 yrs more. They can’t find out this was all a lie. If u think my grounding strict now – sh**, after that I’ll be a virtual missing person!

So what r u growing tits now

NOT FUNNY

Wasn’t joking, ru?

No. not yet NE way

U any closer to freedom?

Not that I can f*** tell.

Dude. U have another “addendum” 2 ur plan you can use?

No. have 2 think. U think 2, ok? I don’t know what to do next!

Ur the planning genius, buddy. I try tho. Hey, can u send me pic of you as Willow?

WHAT THE F*** FOR DUDE, SO U CAN LAUGH AT ME? NO

Tryin to help u, dude.

I hate my life

Don’t give up. Repeet after me: I will not give up.

Okay. Keep misspelling – makes me laugh

Awr yew macking phun ov mei?

Now ur doing on purpose. Still funny. ROFLMAO!

~o~O~o~

Gwen Eiken was on the phone with her minister from Chula Vista Episcopal.

“Father Wilson, I have a question for you; I’m trying to settle a disagreement that I have with one of my children. It’s about transsexuals and cross-dressers. I’ve been taught that those behaviors are sinful, but I can’t seem to find where Jesus says so in the Bible.”

“Ah," sighed the minister. "I’m getting this more and more from our members as the years go by. I suspect it’s due to the LGBT agendas being pushed by the schools. The book of Deuteronomy clearly states cross-dressing to be an abomination.”

“Yes, I saw those scriptures,” said Gwen. “But Deuteronomy is an Old Testament book of rules; right after that ‘abomination’ passage, it says you can’t wear clothes made of wool and linen woven together; you can’t plant 2 different types of grapes in your vineyard, and adulterers should be put to death. We don’t believe or do any of those things – why should we consider cross-dressing an abomination then?”

Father Wilson sidestepped that question to offer another point. “Well, the apostle Paul says the effeminate will not inherit the Kingdom of Heaven; that means they’re going to hell unless they repent and stop being that way. That’s in the New Testament.”

“Yes, I found that too. 1st Corinthians chapter six. It also says that adulterers and drunkards are going to hell. Forgive me, but wouldn’t that disqualify half of our eldership?

“Ms. Eiken. Insults are not becoming of a Christian lady such as yourself.”

“And hypocrisy is not becoming of my church leaders. For years I have been taking what you said as the gospel truth, without researching it myself. Well, never again. The one guy I trust in this Bible is Jesus. He condemns hypocrites. But nowhere does he condemn gays, transsexuals or crossdressers. He’s the example you keep saying we should follow.. So I’m going to do just that.”

“Ma’am … are you quitting the church?”

“No. I still love church – worshipping, singing, fellowship with my friends. But I will no longer sit and absorb every word I’m told. I’ll be listening, researching, cross-checking. Watching for hypocrisy. And when I see it I will not be silent. You have been warned.” She hung up the phone.

Okay God, she prayed silently. I’m sorry for how I’ve rejected my daughter. I repent; please forgive me. Help me to change. Help me to treat her right, no matter what sex she chooses to be.

~o~O~o~

The only strategy that Willow had was to try yet again to get Dr. Estrada to consider recommending “emancipated minor” status; perhaps he would wear down with repeated requests. Her next appointment was in the morning; the biweekly shots were due. Willow tossed and turned, yet could not get to sleep. She didn’t like the thought of more chemicals entering her body. Maybe the doc would stop the injections if she really emphasized the hot flashes and nausea?

She looked at the clock; 3:37 AM. Tired of lying in bed, she got up and proceeded to the kitchen. She was trying to diet, but maybe some of the gelatin Momma had made – with a little whipped cream on top, just a touch – would make her satisfied enough that she could sleep.

On the way, she passed the wet bar; a non-event, as her folks always left it locked. Willow stopped. She spun around to look at the bar again. For the first time she could remember, one of the cabinet doors to the alcohol had been left open. William may have forgotten to close and lock it after his nightcap earlier.

Man, how long has it been since I’ve had a beer? Since just before I got thrown in Juvie. Now THAT would help me sleep. Let’s see, what’s in this cabinet? No beer … lots of pretty bottles … what’s this one … vodka! Man, I haven’t even had wine before, much less liquor. Surely the ‘rents won’t miss a little of this?

Willow found a wine glass and poured some vodka into it. She noted that before the pour, the level in the bottle was above the “A” in the word ABSOLUT; after, the level was nearly down at the bottom of the A. Okay; that should be at least one beer’s worth. She replaced the bottle and attempted to gulp down the glass in one big long swallow. She got not half of it down before choking and spewing the rest on the carpet.

OOH CRAPCRAPCRAP!! Grabbing the paper towels at the bar sink, she cleaned all she could – including the wine glass, which she slipped back into the cupboard – and sprayed the whole area with the bottle of deodorizer she’d found below the sink. What a major screw-up. I can’t believe Momma didn’t wake up and catch me. Willow was already feeling woozy-headed when she got back into her room and fell into bed.

~o~O~o~

The next day Gwen drove Willow to Estrada’s office. The mother looked over at her child in the passenger seat. “You look like you feel awful, honey. What’s going on with the big sunglasses?”

“Momma, you don’t have to yell. It’s … ah, the hot flashes from the shots. Really bad today.”

“Hmm. Let’s tell Dr. Estrada that. Maybe he needs to cut back on the hormone dosage."

The meeting went quick. The doctor heard the complaints about the flashes, emotions, nausea. He dismissed those concerns, saying that she’d get a tolerance to those symptoms with more time on the hormones. “I do need blood work from you before I give you your shots, Willow.”

“What for?”

“To determine blood levels of the drugs you’re on.”

Willow misinterpreted this as a request for an illicit drug screen, not the estrogen level test that the doctor meant.

HE WANTS TO DO A DRUG SCREEN ON ME?? Wait, that’s fine – I haven’t used any since before I was in juvie. OH GOD, WAIT – I GOT INTO THE VODKA 6 HOURS AGO. IF I GET BUSTED, IT’S ALL OVER. What makes him suspicious? My bloodshot eyes? I can’t let them test my blood.

“Doc … I’m already getting 2 shots, and I hate needles. Now you’re going to stick another in me. Can’t we just skip it?”

Dr Ramos smiled. “We’ve just developed urinalysis technology that approximates serum levels; I have one of the first machines here in my office.”

The nurse in the room turned to Willow and Gwen. “He means a urine sample will do, Hon.”

Willow walked with the urine cup to the bathroom. This is no better. I’ll bet there’s some alcohol in my urine. She went in the toilet room and hiked her skirt up, pulled her panties down and filled the cup with yellow pee. After she pulled herself back together, she poured at least ¾ of the cup into the toilet. Have to have a little pee in there for the color, right? Then she filled it back to the brim using warm water from the tap. God, I hope that dilutes the vodka enough.

“Done,” she said exiting the bathroom, handing the sample to a gloved nurse.

The doctor came back in Willow’s room fifteen minutes later with the shots.

“Sir,” Gwen urged, “Is there any way we can cut down on her dosage? She had a lot of hot flashes even just this morning. This is all new to her, and she’s struggling a bit.”

“Cut down? I’m having to increase it. Her drug levels are almost nonexistent. I’m guessing her liver or kidneys chew up and eliminate the drugs more aggressively than most. She needs more, not less,” he said, waving the very full syringes in his right hand. "I'll give her a nausea medicine shot also, and send you home with a prescription for antinausea suppositories."

Willow really didn’t catch on the whole meaning of this conversation between her mother and the physician. Her head was still pounding, yet she was relieved that no drugs were found in her urine. When prompted, she “assumed the position” and received her shots. And in her hung-over state, she forgot to pull him aside and ask for the emancipation letter she wanted.

Gwen drove them home where Willow once again collapsed in her bed.

~o~O~o~

Three days later.

“How are you today, Willow?” Gwen asked as her newest daughter walked into the kitchen. “Feel like eating this morning?”

The girl was wearing her skater skirt, pink sneakers and a long sleeved purple tee. Her wig was now always on her head unless showering or asleep; she had some eyeliner and minimal makeup, with simple studs in her ears.

“Yeah, finally. I’m hungry; after broth for the last 2 days, I hope I can tolerate real food. The nausea was so intense after those latest shots! I think I lost a little weight – which is the only good thing about all this.”

“Getting thinner via bulimia is NOT a good thing, daughter. I’ve already been on the phone with Dr. Estrada’s office this morning. Your blood sample we gave them yesterday – you know, the one they requested when I called about your severe reactions – it showed way too much estrogen in your system. Evidently that urine estrogen level they did at the office was inaccurate in your case, so you got an extra high dose this last shot. They’re lowering the dose next time. I’m pretty angry at them; you really have suffered.” Gwen handed a small plate of buttered toast to Willow, who started nibbling eagerly.

“Momma – you’re saying the pee I gave them was to check for a hormone level, not anything else?”

“Yes. Why, what were you thinking it was for?”

“Nothing. Just wondering,” the teen lied. STUPID! Stupid stupid stupid idiot! I’m already messing up my body with hormones, and I just tricked him into giving me MORE?! Okay. No more alcohol, no more distractions. It’s all on hold until I gain my freedom. Speaking of …

“I was wondering, Momma – oh boy, this toast is so good – how am I behaving? I know I’ve been more emotional since the shots. You said that time at Dr. Estrada’s that I was being obedient and polite; am I still that way?”

“Oh, you’ve been a little more difficult after starting the shots, but I think that’s due to those estrogen side effects. Some of us women become emotional wrecks when our ovaries first start firing up. So you could have been worse. Maybe you would have been, if you’d had to deal with bleeding and periods too.”

“Am I better than I was when I was Bill?” When you say yes, I’ll push to end my grounding.

Gwen tilted her head as she looked back at Willow. “Behaving better? Absolutely. But let’s not say you’re ‘better’ than Bill as a person. Bill had a lot of rough edges, but I loved him and always will. Just like I love you, daughter. Now if you start doing the things Bill was doing, you’ll find your Poppa and I can be just as harsh with our rules. But no matter what, we’ll still love you.”

“I know you love me, Momma. But I’ve always thought Poppa didn’t. ‘Cause he’s a stepfather. And stepdads abuse their children. Stepparents can’t love their stepkids because - they aren’t really their kids.”

“Willow,” gasped Gwen, “who told you that?”

“It’s common knowledge, Momma. Half the kids at school – when I actually went to public school - are stepkids. We talked about our folks. Most all of us wished we could have our original two parents back together. Not me! I know how rotten my ‘sperm donor’ father is. But William married you for you; we kids are just the baggage you brought along. That’s how most everyone thinks of their stepdads and moms.”

Gwen stroked her daughter’s cheek with the back of her fingers. “Oh Willow. Maybe that’s true for some stepparents. It’s true for some original parents too; there are plenty of Moms and Dads that have their natural kids and treat them like garbage. Again, exhibit one: your natural father. But when it comes to me, you are so, so wrong.”

“Momma – I wasn’t talking about you.“

“In a way, you were. See, after my divorce, I vowed to never get involved with any man who would treat my kids as second-class citizens. If some guy wanted me, he needed to treat me as the love of his life, and treat my kids as his own – better than his own. I frankly thought I had set the bar too high, that no man out there could meet my strict requirements. And then God plopped William into my life.

“As we were dating, I kept a keen eye on how he treated you. When he proposed, I demanded a yearlong engagement just so I could see if he loved you guys like you should be. He knew that becoming a stepparent would be rough, and that one or all of you would rebel against him. And he took you on anyway. So I married him. And he’s stayed true to his promise to me – and to you.

“So see, when you say William’s going to treat you as ‘baggage’, that means you don’t trust me as your Mom. I would never marry a man who does wrong by my kids. Rules? Yes. It’s frankly easier to enforce the rules when I have a husband to help me; that may be why it feels like things are stricter with him around. But abuse? Absolutely not. If I saw any, I’d take you three and be gone in a heartbeat, even if it meant living in a mobile home again. But me and you and your siblings, we got lucky. We got the best guy on the planet, and he’s sticking with us despite all our mess.”

Willow shook her head. “I’ll buy that he loves you, Mal and Angie. But the only reason he’s being affectionate to me right now is that I’m behaving. He never loved me when I was Bill. If I’m honest, Momma, I want a father who loves me for who I am, no matter how I act, no matter if I’m a boy or a girl. My real dad never did, and you can’t convince me that William does. Why should he? Even I wouldn’t love me if I was my own father.”

“Oh baby – what a thing to say!” Gwen’s eyes became moist. “You have more love in you than you know. We just need to bring it to the surface, past all that hurt and anger. You are worthy of love – ESPECIALLY from yourself. And how can you believe that William doesn’t love you after what he did while you were in Juvenile Detention?”

Willow tilted her head. “What are you talking about?”

Gwen’s eyes widened. “Don’t you – didn’t you ever hear about his speech in Juvie court?”

Her daughter shook her head, intrigued. For the moment, she’d forgotten all about asking for the grounding to be stopped.

“Oh, baby. I thought he’d told you,” Gwen sighed. “When you got put in detention, William and I came to visit you, remember? Seeing you there, obviously scared out of your wits – that shook us. Then that week we were told that the Judge in your case wanted to meet with us without you present. I had the impression it was to be an informal affair, maybe just to have us answer some questions.

However, they began to proceed with your case! In the court, police and your school counselors laid out their opinion that you were a rebellious, out of control child who was probably introducing drugs into their pristine utopia of Montclair High and North Montanas. All they had was second-hand testimony that you were dealing drugs, no definite proof; but they were ready to incarcerate you for the next 3 years. We were taken aback – there was no attorney there to speak for you; we weren’t aware you’d need one.

“Then William stood up and told the court that although you were rebellious and disobedient, there was too little evidence to support their decision. He said if you were in juvie detention for that long, you would surely emerge damaged; that they should reduce the sentence to time served, then let us keep you in home detention until you turned around. When they tried to blow him off, William promised he'd return that day with an army of lawyers. The court ended up shortening your detention to 5 months.

“Your Poppa made some enemies that day; he put his reputation and community standing on the line for you. Then he prayed every day, along with me, for your protection and survival while you were in detention. So he’s proven to me that he loves you, and I love him so much for it.”

Willow was amazed. “He did all of that for me?”

“Yes. That’s why I know he loves you. He really, really loves you. As Willow, or as Bill; doesn’t matter. Now, LIKE? I think he LIKES Willow better, and I do too. Sorry, Bill, if you’re in there somewhere,” she smiled as she poked her daughter on the noggin. “But we LOVE you just as much, no matter which one you are.”

Willow sat bolt still. “He … he really loves me,” she eked out in a whisper.

“Yes, and – honey? Willow, are you okay?” Gwen suddenly was concerned.

Willow was experiencing distress she’d never felt before. A severe cramp squeezed her upper chest and spread to the base of her neck. Her jaw locked shut, and her facial muscles spasmed to form a grimace. God! What’s happening? Am I having a heart attack?? Now the cramp rose up to her voice box and the back of her throat; it was painful! Her vision blurred, and she could feel water drenching her face. Am I dying? She attempted to call for help.

“Mmm … mmMomm … wha … wha’s … WHA’S HAPPENIN’ TO MEEE??”

Willow dissolved into a weeping, sobbing heap there at the kitchen table. She was crying for the first time in over a decade. Gwen ran and embraced her daughter, hugging and rocking her as her own tears now fell.

“Go ahead, baby. Let it out. I’ve got you.”

~o~O~o~

William walked in from the garage that late afternoon carrying two large flat square boxes.

“I come bearing gifts – the gift of pizza. One meat, one veggie. Putting them on the kitchen counter. Uh … hello?”

Gwen’s voice came through the intercom. “Hi, honey. Come on back to Willow’s room, okay?”

He did so. His wife was standing at the door to meet him; they shared a quick heartfelt kiss.

“Pizza’s in the kitchen like you asked. How’s Willow?”

“Still weepy, off and on. It’s like she’s making up for years and years of not crying. But she does want to see you. Go on in; I’ll be here in the doorway.”

William walked in. The overhead light to the bedroom was off, but two lamps and the sunlight from the window was sufficient. Willow was sitting on the side of her bed in the same outfit from this morning; her eyes were red, and any vestige of makeup had long ago been washed away by tears. A trash can with a small hill of wadded tissues was off to her left.

Willow looked up at the man in her room and smiled. “Hi, Poppa.”

“Hey, Willow. You wanted to talk to me?”

“Yeah.” She rose to stand like a perfect lady, legs together, with a smooth gradual ascension. “Um …”

Suddenly she ran the few steps to where he stood. She embraced him around his neck and kissed his cheek. “I … I love you too, Poppa. Love you too!” Now her tears were flowing again. William returned her embrace with his big arms around her back.

Her mother looked around for a fresh tissue box as the one in Willow’s room was now empty. Gwen felt a tap from behind on her shoulder blade; it was her daughter Angela to the rescue with another box.

“Thought it might be time for a new one,” whispered Angie.

Gwen kissed her oldest, then grabbed a handful of the paper and walked up behind William. She dabbed at Willow’s eyes with a few pieces and stuffed the rest into the girl’s right hand. Then she took a step back and took in the sight of these two former enemies holding on to each other.

Malachi’s voice crackled through the intercom. “OH my GOD!! Can we EAT already? I’m STARVING out here!”

~o~O~o~

Bernard u there?

Yep. How u? quit hurling yet?

Yes kept down slice of veggie pizza tonite!

Veggie? U a carnyvore dude

On a diet. Was getting fat

Okaaaay; whtevr. How goes the Plan

Um; reworking it; not finished yet.

Better do it B4 ur next shot!

Yeah. Hey Bern. Got serious question

Uh oh. Ok shoot

Ok. Ur my friend, right? We still best buds?

Yes

Would we still be best buds if I stayed this way 4 a little while?

Stay what way?

Just say yes or no

I cant. Don’t kno what ur talkin bout. Stay … ?

The way I am right now

Which is?

Um, a girl.

…

If I stayed living like a girl. Would u b disgusted, hate me?

…

Bern u still there? Plz. Plz b there.

Srry, just stunned. Yes dude. Still besties. No matter what.

Really!!

Yes unless I get a girlfriend. Jealusy probs, right?

LOL!

SO when did this happen – r u considering really turnin into a chick??

I been thinking hard about this. I don’t know when I’ll get Dr. to help me with legal action; feels like I’m in limbo. Until then keeping up with this act. But u kno … I don’t think I totally hate being a girl. In some ways.

What ways are those?

Relationship with parents much better – they treat me with love and respect. I learned today that William loves me as if I was his natural kid. And I think they may start relaxing rules soon? So maybe I get more freedom finally?

Well at least that’s happening - good

I feel more peace in life and heart, especially today. Anger not constantly burning in chest. Don’t kno if that is from being a girl or not; if not, it’s a huge coincidence.

Hello – R U sure this is Bill im talking 2?

Actually, ur talking to Willow. I’m still Bill, but Willow is becoming like a real person now, not just an act. She likes to get dressed up and look pretty, too. With my wig, I fool most people – don’t get tagged too often as guy in public.

Dude u even sound like a chick. So u happy?

I think maybe a little – more than I was.

Then Im happy 4 u. Glad u told me

Scary though. Thought I’d lose u as a friend.

Hey, Im always in ur corner. Dude/chick/whatever.

U don’t kno how much I appreciate that ☺

R u into guys now?

No. but looking at girls different – their style and clothes – and not as much their T&A. Not getting boners much – but hormones may be doin that

I M worried bout u. Rite now u in sheltered life. Tougher when out in real world as tranny.

Yeah, thass true probably. So next goal in “Plan” is allowing me some freedom in real world. Will have doc recommend to folks

Maybe u and I could finally hang out some again. I kno ur mom hates me 4 the drug stuff – but clean/sober for almost 10 months, attending 12 step program.

Man, I miss hangin w/u. I’ll talk 2 Poppa 1st; he might convince Momma

U call him Poppa? Not Stepshit? OK mind blown. So what do u look like as girl?

Texting u a pic of me. Lousy light srry. I haven’t seen u in over a year – text me a pic of u please?

Ok I sent pic; just got urs. Dude u r kinda hot

Why thank u Bernard. I C U R kind of a stud yrself

OK DUDE; FREAKING OUT.

U started it! ROFLMAO!

~o~O~o~
To be continued tomorrow

If you've gotten this far, please leave a comment! Don't make me reach through the screen and tweak your nose!

Thanks for reading!

“This will kill any love they had for me … I’ll have to go back to being angry Bill! All the good things in my life – I’m going to lose them all! I’m so scared!”

~o~O~o~

Willow was in Dr. Estrada’s office for the required counseling and yet another set of hormone shots. Mother Gwen was there, but out in the waiting room. The doc had requested a one-on-one session with his teenage patient. They sat in his consultation room on opposite facing lounge chairs.

“I’m encouraged about your breakthrough with your family, Willow. And you now can experience the emotional release that a good cry can give you. These are both positive developments, genuine ones. It’s about time, too.”

The girl tilted her head at that last sentence. “What did you mean by that, Doc?”

“How do I say this,” muttered the counselor/physician. “You’ve been giving me perfect answers to my questions for the last few sessions. Too perfect. Like you got them out of a manual or off a website. Absolute textbook responses as if you were the ideal, complete transgender patient. Frankly, I've begun to doubt your sincerity.

“I do think you were truthful in our first few sessions, but I’m not sure about the ones since. The exception is today’s report - your joy in how your family is treating you, and how much peace you have. That has the ring of truth. But I’m wondering if, in our first meeting, I might have been fooled. You were so enthusiastic, and I took that as evidence that your story was factual.

“So I need to ask you a question. And I want to be able to know that your answer is genuine. I’m not perfect; I can’t always tell when a patient is deceiving me. But I can tell certain times when I absolutely feel the truth and sincerity of what I’m being told. That’s what I need you to do. Convince me that you are absolutely being real when you answer this …

“Did you first come to me purely because you feel you are female, a girl, or was there some ulterior reason? Say, wanting to get out from under your parent’s oppressive grounding and rules?”

Willow immediately opened her mouth to give her rehearsed answer, but Dr. Estrada held up his palm in a “STOP” gesture.

“Do not answer me right away. I’m going to step out for about ten minutes; use that time to figure out how you’re going to convince me. And if it’s not the truth, there’s no way I’ll be convinced. Willow, if you have lied previously, here’s your chance to set it straight without any penalty or condemnation from me. Choose well. I’ll be back in ten.” He stepped out of the room.

Willow’s mouth was dry, and the tightness in her throat came back. She reached for some tissues. Deceiving everyone with The Plan had become a huge psychological burden, and she felt the need to come clean.

If I do that, will everything fall apart? Will my family hate me, and the doctor reject me as a patient? Wait, he said no penalty. What does that mean? Keeping this secret – it’s been eating away at my soul. God, what do I do?

When Estrada returned, it was to a contrite Willow. “I’m – I’m sorry, sir. I was trying anything to get out from under my stepfather’s thumb. I wanted to be an emancipated minor, or bust up my folk’s marriage, or both. Saying I was transgender seemed like a perfect way to get those done. When it didn’t happen, I found myself trapped in my own lie.

“But I discovered something – I really, really like being a girl. I’ve started to wish I had been born one! All the good things I reported today – they are due to my transition. Even though I started this for the wrong reasons, I think I want this for all the right reasons now.”

Estrada’s gaze into Willow’s eyes was intense. “And you discovered this when?”

“Um, when I had my crying breakthrough.”

“So you were deceiving me and your parents for eight weeks, then less than 14 days ago you realized you were –“

“Deceiving myself,” Willow inserted. “I found out I really like these changes in my life. I don’t want to stop my transition.”

“Being a woman encompasses so much more than getting along with your family during your teenage years. If you stay this course you’ll be living public life as a female. Have you thought about that? Having to be aware of men, and their intentions towards you? Not walking alone in the dark? Physically being weaker than you would have been? And discrimination – in the job force, politically, and so many other ways. I doubt you’ve thought about all this in just 2 week’s time.”

“Well, I just did your thingie on the internet," Willow replied. "It sure made me think hard about a lot of those issues."

Dr. Estrada blinked twice in mild confusion. "My ... 'thingie?' What ..."

"It's like a big online test. You should know, you wrote it! Like a huge questionnaire; it was called "So You Think You Might-"

"So You Think You’re Transgendered?, a pre-transition self-evaluation for prospective transgender patients," finished Estrada. "A set of worksheets that aim to help people determine where they are on the trans spectrum. They also force a person to consider the serious changes involved in transition. Yes, I co-authored that with the psychiatric division of the UTMB* medical school. Willow, this has been on the internet for not yet 3 weeks. How did you find it?”

"A google search, DUH!" she laughed. "I was looking for information to see if I really am a girl in my soul, to prove to myself that this - being Willow - is really real. Then that popped up, with your name on it no less. It made me wonder why you didn't have me do it - that survey - before I started on hormones."

Estrada looked sheepish. "It wasn't ready yet. And when it was, just a month ago, you were already in transition, not preparing for it. Have you filled the forms out totally, including the essay questions?”

"Yes," Willow nodded. "And I submitted all of it online just 2 days ago. I haven't heard back from you guys as to my results, though."

“I can score you right now – I just have to run your submission through the program tool and read your essay answers!” Estrada opened the laptop computer he kept at his side table.

(*UTMB = University of Texas Medical Branch in Galveston, TX)

~o~O~o~

“Well, Willow. Your score correlation was 86%. Not in the 90’s like the most assuredly transgender psyches are, but pretty darn close.”

“So, that proves I’m a real trans girl, right?”

The doc waved his finger in a “wait a minute” gesture. “This is a brand new tool; it’s going to take years to validate it. However, it strongly suggests that you are truly a transgender woman. Your written responses to the essay questions impress me the most; they’re full of hope along with a healthy dose of doubt, like an authentic transgender woman would have.”

“Good. I love how my family and I are right now, especially Poppa and me. I don’t want to do anything to upset it.”

“Willow, what if you feel differently after your next disagreement with your stepfather? You’ll have conflict again eventually – every parent and child does.”

“Doc, I don’t think I’m going to change my mind. But if I do, stop my transition then. I don’t want you to stop it now, please.”

Estrada half-smiled. “Okay, Willow. You have indeed convinced me you’re telling the truth. And I will allow you to continue this therapy, with one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You need to come clean with your parents; tell them what you told me. About your original deception when you announced yourself as trans.”

Willow’s face drained of color. “Oh … oh no. I … things are so good with me and my family. If I tell them … I might lose it all. Please don’t force me to do this! Not yet!”

“Willow, there is a truth about exposing a lie: the sooner, the less worse. Not ‘the sooner the better’; the sooner, the less worse. Telling the truth will hurt, and cause some damage – but the longer you wait, the bigger that damage will be.”

“What if they never found out? What if we keep this just our little secret?”

“Willow … I can almost guarantee that sooner or later they will find out. Most secrets come out into the light eventually. It’s always best if you confess it rather than them stumbling onto the truth later.” Dr. Estrada then noticed his patient looking quite different than usual. “Willow? Are you alright?”

The girl was shaking visibly, to where the tremors could be heard in every exhalation. Her eyes were wide open and wet, with tears about to be birthed from them. Panicked, they darted around the room and then met the doctor’s eyes again.

“Talk to me, young one,” said Estrada in a calm, low voice. “Let’s do the feelings exercise again. What emotion are you sensing most?”

“I … I don’t know! I don’t know what this is!”

“Then describe what your body is feeling; we’ll start there.”

“My heart is racing a thousand miles an hour! And I feel like the chair and the floor are going to collapse – I don’t have anything to hold on to!”

“Any tunnel vision?”

“What’s that? … Uhh, no, I don’t think so! God this is horrible!”

“Willow. You look like you’re terrified. Is that the emotion – fear?”

She buried her head in her hands and began to bawl, choking out some words in between sobs. “This will kill any love they had for me … I’ll have to go back to being angry Bill! All the good things in my life – I’m going to lose them all! I’m so scared!”

Dr. Estrada extended an open palm to the suffering teen. “Willow, give me your hand.” She weakly placed her trembling fingers in his. “I know your parents, and I doubt they will love you less. If you’d like, you can use your next counseling session a week from now to tell them both; that way, I can be here to support you.”

“Okay, Doc. Let’s do that, please.” She exhaled deeply and fanned her face. She gradually relaxed, eventually going nearly limp as she leaned back onto the chair.

“Whew! So that’s fear, huh? I really hate that one. How do I handle it in the future, when you aren’t around to help me?”

“First realize that it’s a feeling, and feelings pass. Then courageously face what you’re afraid of. Brave people feel scared all the time; they just don’t let it paralyze them. Remember this: when you’re walking through a Valley of Fear – keep walking.”

“Sounds like good advice. I’ve never dealt with all these emotions before.”

Dr. Estrada raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you remember being afraid before? Any time in your life?”

“You know, I think as Bill I took every uncomfortable feeling and made it into anger,” Willow contemplated. “Then I took it out on whatever or whoever was closest to me. Having to deal with feelings without just getting angry? It’s new, and it’s hard. But I think it’s better for me.”

~o~O~o~

“Your eyes are red. Everything OK?” queried Gwen to her child as they drove home. “You were in there for quite a while.”

Willow smiled and leaned across the passenger seat to hug her mother. “I love you, Momma. So much.”

“I can’t get enough of you saying that to me, daughter. I love you more than you’ll ever know.”

Willow was silent for a minute, then spoke again. “Momma? You know how – when we checked out at the doc today - they asked you and Poppa to be there for the next counseling session?”

“Yes. Next week is super busy for William but he’ll find a way to get there, I’m sure. What’s it about?”

“I was going to tell you and Poppa something, with the doc there to support me. But I don’t think I should wait; I need to talk to you two tonight, if possible.”

“Okay … are you sure you want to do this without Dr. Estrada?”

“Yeah. I’m walking through a valley, and I just need to keep walking.”

~o~O~o~

Gwen Eiken looked at the alarm clock. It was 12:33 AM. She sighed and went back to reading her book using the bedside table lamp as light.

“Hey. I’m back,” announced William quietly, walking into the bedroom.

“About time, buster. I was about to file a missing persons report. So … how are you feeling, what are you thinking?” said the wife, patting her hand on his side of the mattress as an invitation.

He took off his sneakers and slid onto the comforter beside Gwen. “You know, when Willow confessed all of that to us tonight – especially how she was trying to deceive us in the beginning – my overwhelming urge was to extend the grounding, tighten the restrictions, start calling her Bill again and get rid of all the female clothes and makeup and stuff. I realized I needed to cool off.”

“So you said you were going for a drive to clear your head - and stayed gone 3 hours. Where’d you drive to?”

“Las Cruces.”

“You went all the way to New Mexico?? Good Lord! Las Cruces is like, 40 miles away! Honey, you can’t do things like that without letting me know!”

“I know; I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I just wasn’t emotionally prepared to hear this today. Afraid if I hung around I’d lose control of my mouth, and regret it later.”

“I felt betrayed too, honey. But you’ve always felt that Willow – Bill – was trying to scam us with this transgender business, right? Why were you so surprised when it turned out to be true?”

“Because in the last few weeks I had really bought in to it all – that Willow was real from the start. I’m angry that I got fooled. I’m disappointed in Willow. And probably most of all, I feared that I’d lost her.”

Gwen was surprised. “You feared you’d lost Willow?”

“Yes. I have to confess – I adore Willow. I love Bill, but come on, he was tough to handle in recent years. In Willow, I had a second daughter; and she’s been a pure joy, just as Angie is. I suddenly realized tonight: If Bill came back full time, I’d miss Willow terribly. It was all too much. So I went on a drive to sort things out. It took over eighty miles to do it, but I think I’m better now.”

“Well, relax. Our middle child has asked that she still be allowed to live as Willow. She wants to continue with hormone treatments too.”

“I still have worries, Gwen. How will she do in public, when she’s ‘read’ as a transsexual and ridiculed? When she faces the difficulty of being a female in today’s society? I think we’re going to need to allow her to have a little independence … and pray that she doesn’t get back into trouble or drugs like when she was Bill.”

Gwen began to fret. “We were deceived in the beginning; do you think she’s still fooling us now, just to get around the rules? Do you think she’s really Willow, or just pretending to be?”

William shrugged. “I sensed tonight she was being as honest as she’s ever been. But there’s no way to be sure until we see what she does with a little more freedom. Let’s discuss the details tomorrow; then we’ll present it to her.”

“Okay. And next time you get a wild hair to go to New Mexico, you better take me with you.”

“Found a little coffee spot in L.C. where they let you sit on the roof and look at the mountains. I’ll bet under a full moon it would be romantic.”

“Let me show you something else that’s romantic,” Gwen whispered as she slid off her negligee.

~o~O~o~

Willow’s stomach was doing flip-flops, and she found it hard to concentrate on today’s homeschool readings. She had stopped earlier to analyze these sensations, and she was pretty sure it was the emotion of fear again. Last night she had come clean with her folks, and Poppa had left in his car without saying goodbye; no reassuring hug, but no angry outburst either. Her Momma had told her to expect an “important talk” after supper today; until then, she had to wait and feel her feelings. Keep walking, she thought to herself. Keep walking.

William came home just as the evening meal was put on the table; the family had lighthearted small talk as they ate. Malachi had joked about his newest sister being a unicorn, due to her powder blue cotton top with a pink-and-blue sweater she had on. Even Willow laughed at that; it was a rare non-derogatory comment from Mal. As the meal finished, Angie and Mal were excused from the room. Willow sat across the table from her parents. William cleared his throat.

“Willow; your Momma and I have talked about your confessions from last night. We’ve made some decisions about you regarding rules, restrictions, and who you live your life as.”

The teenager felt a shiver intensifying inside her. It’s just a feeling; it will pass. Be brave. Keep walking.

“I’m sorry I left so suddenly last night, without saying anything to you. Let me reassure you, I still love you. So does your Momma. That love will always be there, okay? Take comfort in that.”

Willow felt her eyes get a little wet, and the shiver disappeared.

“However, both of us were disappointed in you. We finally had come to believe you; then to find that this started out as a ruse - it really hurt, Willow.”

“At the same time,” interjected Gwen, “we are proud of you for telling us the truth now. In recent years, you’ve never admitted to a lie unless we confronted you with overwhelming evidence. This shows us you’re growing up. Thank you for that, sweetie.”

“Now,” resumed her Poppa, “as to who you should live your life as, Bill or Willow. I know you are sure you want to be Willow. But you have a whole world of challenges if you continue to live as a girl. Anti-trans and anti-woman hate are tough to deal with. Some other women will not accept you as one of them. You can never bear children unless medical science takes a few amazing leaps soon. If you keep your penis, it may not work well; if you have sex-change surgery, your vagina may not work as well as a genetic female vagina. There’s no guarantee you’ll be able to … um … come. Orgasm. You know what that is, right?”

Willow rolled her eyes and smiled a goofy smile. “Duh! Of course, Poppa.”

William’s face was suddenly flushed; he glanced at his wife. “Passing to you, honey.”

Gwen rubbed his shoulder as she laughed. “Poor Poppa. Dads get so uptight discussing sex with their daughters. But those challenges he mentioned? They are real. You will have difficulties if you decided to become Bill again, but not as severe. The main issue would be taking your newfound maturity into your Bill persona; if you did, that might be your easiest route to a successful future.”

“Momma – are you saying you want me to stop being Willow?”

“No, honey. What we want is for you to live how you want. But to really know what you want, you need to experience life on the outside more. Interact with other people; run into problems and learn how to solve them. Then before you get past the point of no return with your body, you can choose whether you really want a woman’s life or not.”

“Hey!” Willow gasped with excitement. “Are you dropping my groundings and rules?”

“Not dropping. Loosening,” replied Gwen. “First, allowing you to go out and do things with Angie instead of one of us. Let’s see how you function as a sister duo. If that goes well, we’ll loosen a little more.”

The Poppa rejoined the conversation. “You still will be homeschooled for the immediate future, and expect us to demand spit or urine to test for drugs. That will be another temptation you’ll have to overcome – illicit substances. I worry about that the most, to be honest. You’ll need to avoid friends who use drugs, and hang around ones that don’t.”

“Maybe I should attend Narcotics Anonymous,” offered Willow.

William and Gwen glanced at each other in surprise. “You’d be open to doing that?” said the mother.

“Sure! Maybe I can make a friend or two there.” Like Bernard! she tittered internally. I’ll text him.

~o~O~o~

Willow and her older sister Angela were at the Thursday night North El Paso Narcotics Anonymous meeting. It was an “open” meeting, meaning non-addict friends were allowed to attend. People were gathering and sitting down in the chairs; it was less than 5 minutes until start time.

“Angie – does it look like I’m passing? Is anyone looking at me funny?” fretted Willow. She was dressed in her embroidered jeans with her mother's lilac blouse and a denim jacket.

“Girl, chill. You move like a natural lady now, and you’re so short no one suspects anything. That and your immaculate makeup job, courtesy of your awesome sister.”

Angie took in the appearance of the gathering group. “Yikes. Some of these people look pretty rough,” she whispered. “And then there are some normal people, like you’d see at any mall.”

“Everyone’s a former addict or trying to get clean. A mix of all types. What would you expect?” replied Willow. “Oh hey! I know that guy over there!” She started waving frantically at a tall young Latino man with short-but-thick brown hair. He noticed the waving and walked over to where the two girls were.

“Bernard!” Willow winked so only he could see. “Remember me? I used to be your best bud, Bill Ramos. My name is Willow now.”

“No way! Wow, you’re a girl? That is a definite surprise. I am definitely shocked. Definitely. It’s cool, though. Can I sit by you two?”

Willow rolled her eyes mentally. God, Bern. Could you be any worse an actor? Just be quiet and I’ll take it from here. “Hey, Angie – this is my old friend Bernard. I know him from Montclair High; he’s a senior there like you. We hung together when I went there.”

“Bernard … “ thought Angie. “Mom talked about a Bernard who did drugs with my brother Bill. I don’t think she’d approve of you hanging out with us. Willow, let’s go to the car please.”

“I’m sober and clean,” inserted Bernard. “For nearly a year now. I come to these meetings to keep that way. If Bill – or Willow – wanted to do drugs, I’d have to drop him – ah, her – as a friend. Staying abstinent is the most important thing in my life.”

Angie still looked wary. She stared at Bernard and was silent for a little bit. Then: “Okay. We can stay, and you can sit with us – but start acting sneaky and I’m gone, taking her with me.”

Willow raised an eyebrow as she turned her head to Bernard. “Abstinent? You're not allowed to have sex?” she whispered.

“Dudette, you got a lot to learn,” laughed Bern.

~o~O~o~

Yo Bern u there

Hey Willow

Wow. Sounds funny, saying my girl name in text. I kind of like it tho.

How u like NA mtg?

Shocked. So many of my former drug customers there!

Yep. See that junk we were dealing was ruining a lotta lives.

And I didn’t think I needed to b there personally. But by the end, I realize I was abusing all the time I was dealing. Used 2 say I only did lortabs, and only once. But truth is I got CAUGHT only once.

You ought to continue doing NA. Gets u sober friendships, and forces u to be honest. Everyone there has lied 2 use drugs. They kno what BS sounds like. So it’s hard to fool them – they call u out on it. NA not just good 4 stayin clean, but 4 life in general.

Yeah living honestly is better. I been totally honest with folks since confessing 2 them the other nite.

Totally honest?

Yes

Willow.

What

Willow we R secretly texting on a phone u r not supposed 2 have.

Oh. Poop!

Haha bruh u even curse like girl now

Bern

Yeah?

Come 2 next thurs NA mtg again; I’ll slip ur sister’s phone back 2u. Until then let’s not use it. Maybe allowed 2 have own phone if my rules loosen further.

Ok. Glad u came 2 mtg. Missed seeing u

Missed u 2. U best friend I could ever have.

Willow typed “love u” at the end of the last text, but deleted it before sending it.

~o~O~o~

To be continued tomorrow.

If you've gotten this far, please leave a comment! Don't make me reach through the screen and tweak your nose!

Thanks for reading!

"Honey – look at Willow. She looks like your Mother did back in the 60’s!”

“Oh my God,” Gwen whispered. “You’re right!”

“Susan! Why won’t you come here and kiss me?” cried Grandpa.

“Momma – what do I do?” urged Willow.

~o~O~o~

A quick note to my readers. If you've been reading the comment sections of this serial, you may have noticed me saying that this whole story hads 13 parts. Well, I discovered last night that I had miscounted. There are only 12 parts to this story (unless I get an idea to add more). Sorry about that! And thank you for your readership and all of your wonderful comments! - **Sigh**

~o~O~o~

“And so that’s all I can think of that I haven’t told you guys. I’m sorry.”

Willow sat with her parents at yet another after-supper talk. She had initiated this one; confessing the lie of the illicit phone from Bernard.

“Are you sure there are no more secrets, Willow?” sighed William, taking the device his daughter was handing him. “I’m glad you’re coming clean, but I think I want all the rest on the table rather than getting them gradually trickling out.” As he said this, he began scrolling through the total text history between Bill/Willow and Bern.

“Unfortunately, this drops my opinion of your ‘friend’ back to zero,” Gwen fumed. “Maybe he isn’t doing drugs anymore, but he was helping you in your rebellion against us.”

William now shoved the phone screen near Willow’s face. “See anything else here you want to own up to?” Part of Bill and Bernard’s initial text had been pulled up. It read:

How’s the rest of my old posse?

Man. We all broke up. None active in chemical biz now. Most don’t ask about u.

Shit. Cancel those posers.

Been tryin 2 contact u but ur keepers too strict.

Anyone else set up new pipeline 2 deliver product 2 our users?

"Well?" grilled William.

“Oh … yeah.” Willow hung her head. “Your suspicions were right, Poppa. Before I got put in juvie, I was indeed dealing drugs to the Montclair High kids and some other users in the neighborhood.”

“One more time,” William growled. “Any more lies we should know about?”

“I don’t think so – but that’s what I thought after confessing to you guys after the doc appointment. I – I guess I’ve been lying about so many things for so long that I can’t keep track of them all. So I’m not gonna promise there won’t be more. Please forgive me - I’m so sorry I’ve hurt you guys again.”

The Poppa stood up. “I’m going out.”

“Oh William, please not another 3-hour trip,” Gwen pled. “I need you here with me. I’m kind of shaken by this too, you know.”

“I’m just taking a walk in the front acreage. I’ll be back in 10 – 15 minutes. Then I’ll finish looking at that phone. Willow, you’re grounded to your room for the rest of the night.”

The girl nodded silently as she dabbed tears away from her eyes. She walked, head still hanging down, to her room.

As she sat on the side of her bed, Willow felt free to weep a little harder. Seeing the hurt and disappointment in her parent’s faces really stung her. I wonder when they’ll get tired of putting up with me. If I were them I’d probably have disowned me by now.

There was an unexpected knock at the door. It opened slowly, and her sister Angie’s head came peering around the edge. “Can I come in?”

“I don’t know? They grounded me to my room for the night.”

“Well, they didn’t ground ME from your room. You look like you need a sister right now. I’ve got some tissues, anyway. I was in the hallway during your ‘meeting’, and I want you to know I still love you. And I know they do, too.”

Angie sat down beside her sibling and fed her tissues as Willow had a good cry.

~o~O~o~

Later that evening.

Willow was now preparing to sleep. She’d brushed and flossed and removed her makeup. Now in a long, frilly, sleeveless cotton nightgown, she pulled her covers back to get into bed.

A quick knock on her door startled her. Her Momma stuck her head in. “Hey, honey. Can you put on a robe? Poppa and I want to talk to you before you hit the sack. And don’t worry – we’re not angry.”

Willow sat on the bed with her mother; William had brought in his folding chair. He noted how much this room had changed since his last big talk in here, after Bill’s murder/suicide comment. The posters of thrash metal bands and demonic monsters were put away. In their place were posters of a few sci-fi movies and a large one of a beachside sunset, with a silhouette of a boy and a girl holding hands as they walked along the sand. There were no dirty clothes on the floor, and a fluffy pink comforter covered Willow’s bed instead of Bill’s old scratchy blanket.

“Ahem. William,” Gwen nudged, “did you want to start this?”

“Oh! Yes, sorry. Well, Willow, I expected the worst as I looked at your phone. But your texts to Bernard seem to show an evolution from the rebellious boy you were to a girl who wants to get better and improve her life. And Bernard seems to support you and even keep you honest. When he confronted you last night on your continued use of the phone, you promptly admitted it to us today. I get the sense from these texts that your recent change is indeed real.

“It doesn’t look like you used the phone for calling yet. And you’ve texted no one besides Bernard, correct?”

“Yes sir. I also did ‘net searches on it; at first to find out how to deceive you two, but then more recently to confirm that I am who I believe I am – a woman. I haven’t used that phone for anything else.”

“We were ready to ground you so hard,” Gwen stated, “but the progression of those texts encouraged us. We think you’re trying to learn from your mistakes.”

“So my grounding for this is …” Willow muttered hesitantly.

“Nothing. We’re letting you off with a warning, Ma’am,” said William in a faux police officer voice. “I do want to meet this Bernard myself and discuss his support of your rebelliousness. I can’t very well bar you from seeing him. That would mean you couldn’t go to NA meetings; he’s at a lot of them. But one more strike and he’s out, got it?”

“We’ll keep this phone until your next NA visit, then we’ll have Angie turn it back over to Bernard there,” said Gwen. “Any questions?”

Willow smiled hopefully. “So … you guys still love me?”

Both parent’s eyes widened in surprise. “Honey!” Gwen sputtered. “That was never in question –“

The girl grabbed her mother around the neck and kissed her cheek multiple times, then repeated the action with her father. “Thank you, Momma and Poppa. Thank you for still loving me.”

~o~O~o~

Two days later.

Willow was out of the shower and drying off. Turning her head to get behind her ears, she noticed her profile in the bathroom mirror. She stopped and took stock of the reflection.

It had been two months now since she had started the hormone and blocker injections. She knew it was probably too early to see breast and hip development. The problem was, she was swelling slightly all over. Her weight had risen 18 pounds since starting hormones; her eating was still too much like Bill’s diet had been, and she hadn’t really committed to an exercise regimen.

My old workout was all weights. But I want to be sleek and slender now, not all bulgy with muscles. I can’t wear any of my shorts, and even some of my skirts are too tight. Critical! I need some help. Angie’s had issues with weight a few years ago, but not now. Maybe she’ll give me some guidance.

Her scalp hair was growing to where her ears were mostly covered if she just let it hang straight. Bill had worn a short haircut, and she figured she’d need her wig for most of the next year before she was comfortable going with just her natural coiffure.

Willow fingered her nipples. They definitely were getting swollen; her mom had marched her back to her room the other day when she tried wearing a T-shirt sans bra. I’m starting to get my breasts. This is scary and exciting at the same time.

She leaned forward poking her chest out and her butt back, and pursed her lips. “Hey, boys. You like whatcha see?” she whispered. Then she frowned. “No? You don’t? Nah – I don’t either. Not yet.” She sighed and started to lotion her skin. Just then from her bedroom, she heard her Momma over the intercom.

“Everybody assemble in the living room. Now, please!”

~o~O~o~

The three Eiken kids and their mother convened as she’d requested; it was still early this Saturday morning, 8:45. William came in from trimming the hedges, glistening with sweat. “Hey, I saw you waving, honey. What’s up?”

Gwen handed him a glass of ice water. “I just got a call from the Presbyterian Hospital emergency room. Dad’s there; he fell, and is in a lot of pain.”

“Grandpa John? In Albuquerque?” Angie was alarmed. She and her Grandpa enjoyed a close relationship.

“So, I assume they’re admitting him. Is he going to need surgery?” queried William.

“No. That’s the problem. They AREN’T admitting him! There’s no broken bone; just a severe hip and back strain, to where he can’t get around by himself without help. He needs pain medicine, and someone to help him into and out of a wheelchair. That’s not enough to justify a hospital stay, so the nurse says. But Dad lives alone; there’s no way he can do it. They can send home health nurses to check on him once a day, but that lasts for 15-30 minutes and then he’s alone the rest of the time.”

“Maybe we could hire around-the-clock nurses?”

“Honey – this could worsen his Alzheimer’s disease; it’s been mild up to now, but with this …? We’ve discussed this possibility plenty of times, you and me. It’s time.”

“You’re right. Okay. I’ll go get ready.”

“It’s time? Time for what?” wondered Mal.

“For Grandpa to move in with us,” said Gwen. “Everybody’s going to need to pitch in and help once he gets here.”

“Whoa. Grandpa’s never met me as Willow,” said the newest Eiken girl.

“I wouldn’t worry about that. One thing my Dad never lacked in was love for his grandkids,” Gwen smiled. “Let’s talk logistics. William and I will drive there and get him; we’ll need to spend the night at his place, and then pack his essentials and drive him here tomorrow.”

“Malachi, you need to stay overnight with one of your friends. Maybe Mitch, or Clay?”

“That’s fine, Mom. I was gonna hang with Clay most of the day anyway,” said Mal.

“Get his mother on the phone so I can ask her if it’s okay. Now: Angela and Willow.” Her gaze turned serious. “I need to know if I can trust you to fend for yourselves and not get into trouble. I’m okay with leaving you both here alone in the house – as long as you don’t have any company, and you abide by the usual rules and curfew. I don’t want Willow left alone; both of you must stick together. I consider this a huge test for both of you, and if either of you mess it up there will be big consequences.”

“Yes ma’am,” Angie and Willow said in near-unison.

~o~O~o~

Both girls waved as their parents drove away north to the New Mexico city of Albuquerque.

“So, it’s mainly you and me today. Got anything you’d like to do?” asked Angie.

“I’m sorry you’re stuck with me today, sis. I know you probably had plans to get with your friends,” fretted Willow.

Angela laughed and shook her head. “OMG, you are SO different from my brother Bill! He couldn’t have cared less about me or my plans. Don’t worry; we’ve been overdue for a sisters-only day. I wanted to hit the mall for some clothes; I know! Let’s catch the matinee of A Star Is Born – I’ve been dying to see that – then go shopping afterwards. Then we can have a chick flick evening with popcorn and maybe some truth-or-dare. How’s that?”

“Sounds great; wow, that’s a full day.”

“Hey, since it’s just you and me, I have a question. How did you choose your name? I mean your female name – Willow.”

“It’s linked to Poppa. Before he came, I was the only William around here. Mom called me Bill but would go full ‘William’ if I was in trouble. The thing is, that name was all mine. Then our stepdad came, and I had to share my name with him. One more reason to hate him, right? But as Willow, I keep the ‘Will’ part, but there’s no way he’s sharing my current name with me. It keeps me more separated from him – and less reason to be angry.”

Angie laughed. “That’s pretty creative, sis! I was wondering why you chose that. There sure aren’t any willow trees out here in the desert to give you inspiration.”

“If I’d chosen my name by the local flora, I’d be Yucca. Bleccch!”

~o~O~o~

“OMG, that movie was so beautiful – and so sad! Why did he have to die?” Willow was still leaking tears. “I can’t believe how easily I cry these days. At least I wasn’t the only one this time!”

“Yeah, I was bawling right along with you sis. But I agree, you’ve been pretty weepy this last month. Female hormones – they’re a wild ride, right?” sniffed Angie.

“Is it ever going to get better? Or am I always going to cry at the drop of a hat?”

“You’ll get more control. Until then you need a nickname. I hereby dub thee: Weeping Willow.”

Angie laughed and ducked as Willow threw her empty diet cola cup at her.

~o~O~o~

“Cheer up, Willow. You needed some clothes, after all.”

“Yeah – because I’ve gotten too big for a lot of what I already have! God, this is embarrassing. I HAVE to lose weight. What do you do to keep slim?”

“First, cut out the snacks. I was going to pop some corn for our movie night, but maybe we need to just have celery and carrot sticks. Second, aerobic exercise.”

“Running? But I’ve never seen you go on jogs.”

“Nope, not jogs or walks. Don’t you remember what I got for my 17th birthday?”

“I wasn’t paying attention; I was still Angry Bill, wrapped up in my own stuff. Oh hey – didn’t you get your car for your present?”

“That was on birthday 16. This year, my dear, I got a Peloton!”

“A pellowhat?”

“Peloton. It’s in the corner of my bedroom. We’ll open up an account for you on it. I’m warning you, it’ll transform your life. Want to start today?”

~o~O~o~

“God, that was intense – I’m so tired!” exhaled Willow.

“You really pushed yourself, girl – probably too much for a first session.”

“So that’s a Peloton. An exercise bike with a real-time instructor. That was kind of fun, even though I’m exhausted.”

“Wait ‘til tomorrow morning; your muscles will be so stiff! You might need some ibuprofen when you first get up. But then, get back in the saddle, literally – and do this every day. While you were cycling, I fixed our supper – a couple of salads with chicken breasts and raspberry vinaigrette. Need me to help pull you up off the floor?”

“Give me a minute,” puffed Willow.

~o~O~o~

The two sisters were in the den watching their movie finish. Willow was in pink sweats accented with a yellow daisy pattern. Angie had a long sleep T-shirt on that said COFFEE FIRST; THEN I DOES THE STUFF. Willow was stunned as the credits started to roll on the screen.

“WHAT?? He was a ghost the whole time??”

“See? What a twist! I can’t believe you never saw this movie, Willow. It was M. Night Shyamalan’s first. See, not all chick flicks are just about boys and girls breaking up. This didn’t have a lot of action, but it was tense, emotional and exciting just the same.”

Willow turned to her sister. “I’m having fun with you, Angie. I never knew what a cool person you were.”

Angela smiled. “I kept away from ‘Bill’. Frankly, you were so mean, angry and selfish – sorry, that’s what I saw – that I couldn’t bear being close to you. But I like hanging with my new sister; I used to dream of having one, you know? And now – I do!”

“I hope I don’t disappoint you – I’ve still got a lot to learn about being a sister – or a woman, for that matter.”

“in that case, let’s further your education with a classic girl sleepover game: truth or dare. Have you ever played? No? Okay, here’s the rules …”

~o~O~o~

“I’ll ask you first,” said Angie. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” said Willow. “I’ve got nothing to hide.”

“Okay I’ll start easy though. Have you ever posed sexy poses in the bathroom mirror after bathing?”

“Errr …! Ah, yes. Just this morning. “ She blushed, surprising herself. “Okay, your turn Ang. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Have you ever kissed a girl – on the lips?”

“Yes. Back in junior high during a sleepover. We did a game called “mystery date” and I played the boyfriend role once; Me and Stephanie Mackover kissed really quick. Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“Lick the floor.”

Willow did so. “BLECCH! So that’s what Pine-sol tastes like,” she shuddered. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Are you still a virgin?”

“Yes. Sheesh! I don’t know why I’m blushing; nothing to be ashamed of,” murmured Angie. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Are YOU a virgin?”

“Are you asking me as Bill, or Willow?”

“Well … both, I guess.”

“Willow is a virgin. I’ve never even dated. Now as Bill, I lost my virginity at age 13, with a girl from my math class.”

**GASP** “Wow, Willow! So young!”

“Yeah. Drugs were involved. I had some pot, she wanted a joint, and my price was that we get it on in the back gym bathroom. That was so wrong … now that I look back, I’m ashamed of what I did.”

“You didn’t. Bill did. You’re Willow.”

“As much as I try to believe that’s so, the truth is that I’m both. Bill still lives in me … even some of the bad parts. They just aren’t controlling me like before.”

“Are you OK, Willow? Do we need to stop the game?”

“No way – especially because it’s your turn! Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“Sit still, close your eyes and let me give you a wet willie.”

Angie tensed and grimaced while Willow approached her ever so slowly – then jammed her wet tongue into her sister’s earhole.

“AAAUUUGG, gross gross GROSS!” Angie shivered. “You sneaky little …! Okay, missy! Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Are you starting to like boys, and if so, who are you crushing on the most?”

Willow gasped slightly, and her face paled due to a stark realization.

“No … I don’t like boys. Boys, plural. I like ‘a’ boy. And I’m starting to dream about him; his eyes, his lips, how it would feel to be held by him …”

“Let me take a wild guess before you tell me. Bernard.”

“Yes,” Willow answered breathily.

The girls continued their truth or dare game for twenty more minutes. But Willow’s attention from this point on was divided between the game and daydreams about her best friend Bern.

At 10 pm Gwen called to check on her daughters. She hung up reassured that things were okay so far.

~o~O~o~

The next morning Angie’s cell phone rang. It woke both girls up; they had snoozed in the den, in separate sleeping bags. Angie answered just before the call kicked into voicemail.

“Hello daughter – it’s Mom again. I’m calling with news, and an assignment for you and Willow.”

Angie clicked the call onto speakerphone. “We’re here, Mom. What’s up?”

“We’re about to leave Albuquerque with Grandpa in the next few hours. He’ll be staying in the spare guest bedroom. I’ll need you two do give the room a good cleaning – dust, vacuum, new bed linens.”

“No problem. Consider it done,” said Angie. “Drive safe, Momma,” added Willow.

“Girls; get ready for a different Grandpa. His Alzheimer’s has gotten a lot worse; he doesn't recognize me. He might not remember any of his grandchildren. It’s the fall and pain that caused this rapid decline; dementia can suddenly worsen if there’s a severe stress of any kind.”

“He might not remember me? But Grandpa John and I … we had a special relationship.” Angie’s eyes began to fill with water.

“I’m grieving too, honey,” Gwen’s voice quavered over the speaker. “I’ve known for quite a while that this day was coming; but that doesn’t make things any easier. We plan on being there about 5 pm. You can call Vito’s to get a pizza or salads or whatever delivered for some lunch. I love you both, and will see you soon.”

The call ended. Angie looked at Willow with tears streaming down her eyes. “He used to call me his ‘Angie-baby’ and held me while I rested my head on his shoulder. Just this last summer. Just 5 months ago,” she sputtered.

~o~O~o~

“Thank you girls – the room is immaculate,” beamed Gwen as she pulled suitcases into the spare bedroom. “William and Malachi are getting Grandpa into a wheelchair; that’s how he’ll have to get around until he heals up more from the fall.”

“Does he know he’s in El Paso?” asked Willow.

“No. In his mind, he’s living in Tulsa, Oklahoma; probably sometime in the 1960’s. He thinks he’s newly married to Grandma Susan, and that they haven’t even had kids yet.”

“Should we tell him that Grandma Susan’s been dead for the last 4 years?” asked Angie.

“NO! No, don’t tell him! It will hit him as if he’s hearing it for the first time, and he’ll grieve horribly. Any and every time he’s told that, he’ll react as if it’s the first time. What we’re going to do is not challenge his reality, but deflect. If he says he’s in Tulsa, agree with him. If he asks where Susan is, say she’s gone to the salon and will be back shortly. He usually accepts those answers; he did in the car on the way back down here.”

There was the sound of the front door closing, and William entered into the bedroom wing hallway of the huge home; he pushed an elderly gentleman in a wheelchair. The old man had sparse white hair and wore thick glasses; his khaki pants had a small stain from a meal or a drink. He wore a tan sweater over his black button up shirt, and his face was void of emotion.

Gwen trotted over to him and kissed him on the cheek. “Your bedroom is straight ahead, Dad.”

The old face suddenly showed alarm. “Excuse me, young lady – I’m happily married, and don’t accept kisses from strange women!”

Angie approached him. “Hi, Grandpa. Do you remember me? Your Angie-baby?”

He responded with silence and a vacant stare. William resumed pushing him towards the bedroom, past a visibly hurt Angela. When the wheelchair pushed into the bedroom, Willow was in there, pulling back the covers. Grandpa John looked at her, and gasped.

“Susan! There you are! Come give me a kiss, honey!”

Willow’s eyes got as big as saucers. Gwen tried to speak, but found no words. William realized what was happening.

“Honey – I never noticed before, but look at Willow. She looks like your Mother did back in the 60’s! That wig – her face. Like the picture he kept at his bedside; like the ones in their old photobook!”

“Oh my God,” Gwen whispered. “You’re right! That long bob kind of looks similar to the ‘That Girl’ style Mom used to wear!”

“Susan! Why won’t you come here and kiss me?” cried Grandpa.

“Momma – what do I do?” urged Willow.

Gwen walked to the wheelchair and knelt by the side of it, facing her father. “John, Susan’s going to give you a hug and kiss, but then she needs to go grocery shopping; she’ll be back later.” She looked at Willow, waving her to come close.

Oh my god. Oh my god, thought Willow. She took rapid steps to the wheelchair. Bending over, she hugged her Grandpa and kissed him quickly on the cheek. “I’ll be back, John. Let these nice people get you into the bed so you can take a nap.” She then walked briskly out of the room. Grandpa yelled “Love you, sweetheart,” as she exited.

Now out in the hall, Willow fell back against the wall and shook her head. Then she saw Angie on the opposing wall, weeping. “It’s not f-fair,” her sister sobbed, then ran down to her room and slammed the door.

~o~O~o~

That evening after feeding him some thick soup, Gwen tucked her father into bed for the night. The door to the bedroom was open, but a slender arm reached in to knock on it anyway. Then Willow appeared in the doorway, holding a hand with Angela. “Can we come in?”

Before Gwen could answer, Grandpa John did. “Susan! Come to bed, sweetheart!”

Willow walked up to him and kissed him again on the cheek. “I still have laundry to do, John. But I have someone here who needs help. This poor young girl has lost her Grandpa; she doesn’t know where he is.” She pulled Angie into view.

“Lost her Grandpa? That’s sad,” he responded.

“She needs you to hold her and say that it’s all going to be okay,” Willow continued. “You’re the only one who can help her now. I’ll be back later; I love you, John.” She hugged him and left the bedroom.

“I’ll see you, sweetheart,” John yelled, then he looked at Angie, who had laid her head on his chest. He put his arm around her shoulders.

“There there, young one,” he cooed. “We’ll find your Grandfather. I’m sure he’s all right, and loves you too much to leave you.” Angie just sniffled and held tightly to him. Gwen grabbed two handfuls of tissue, one hand for Angie and one for her.

~o~O~o~

It was now the Thanksgiving holiday. A full 3 months had passed since Willow had first introduced herself to her family. Now that family – 2 parents, 3 children, and 1 Grandpa – were gathered around a traditional thanksgiving feast.

“Oh boy, this smells so tasty. And I’d been doing so well on my diet!” fretted Willow.

“It’s all about portion control, sis,” smiled Angela. “Watch what I do, and follow.”

William led them in a prayer, then everyone dug in. Gwen tapped her fork to her glass of iced tea. “Let’s go around the table and say what we’re thankful for. I’m thankful for all of you here at this table; I’m especially thankful that I have a chance to take care of my father, to pay him back for all of the times he took care of me. Willow, why don’t you go next?”

The middle Eiken child had just taken a bite of turkey; she looked to the ceiling in contemplation as she chewed, then swallowed. “Wow. So many things. Old ‘angry Bill’ would have said he was not thankful, but resentful – of this house, this family, of life in general. But now, I am so thankful for all of those things! I never knew how awesome my family is; you have been a blessing in my life, each and every one of you. Even Mal.”

“Mmglph!” was the best reply Malachi could give, seeing as he’d stuffed a whole dinner roll in his mouth.

“Hmm. Willow - you aren’t thankful for your cell phone?” queried William.

“Huh – what?” Willow's stomach started to twist. Angie gave it back to Bernard last night! Is there something else that happened I don’t know about?

“Your new cell phone. The latest android phone, with text and data; the one your Momma and I got for you yesterday. We thought it was time to loosen the rules a little more, seeing as you’ve acted so trustworthy. You aren’t thankful for that?” William grinned an impish smile as he produced a small metal-and-glass rectangle and handed it to her.

Willow could barely stay in her seat as the wonderful little thing lit up to her touch, opening up a new window of freedom. “Oh yes, yes, yes-yes-yes-yes-YES, Momma and Poppa! I’m SO thankful for my phone!”

~o~O~o~

Hey Bernard u there

Who is this – don’t recognize #

Oh right. It’s me, Willow! M&D got me a new phone!

Hey Willow wow that’s great

Plan is working, getting more freedom

Haha rite the plan hahaha

??

Dude ur plan totally backfired. Was supposed to break ur folks up or allow u 2 sue them 4 emansipation and instead you are becoming actual girl rite? And getting ur freedom, just not way u planned.

R u trying 2 humiliate me? I called u 2 celebrate; u pointing out my mistakes

Happy mistakes. U seem happy with changes; I am happy 4 u. Think this is better than original plan.

Really? Good. Was about 2 cry.

U cry now?

Oh let me tell u. Should own stock in Kleenex.

So can u leave house without a parent or sister with u yet?

I should ask if I can. Would have to walk or bicycle 2 get anywhere; no driving til I turn 16

You think ur Mom would let me pick u up? Like to go to NA mtg, or coffee? Or will she still bar me from seeing u.

It’s Poppa who wants to c u now – in person. He didn’t like that u snuck a phone 2 me. But he promised me he’ll b open-minded when meeting u.

Okay. Is he really mad? Scarier than ur mom? She can b intimidating.

Just B U, Bern. The new, changed u – clean, sober, stands by his principles, won’t let his friend (me) get away with crap. Poppa knows good when he sees it – he’ll C it in U. Angie can vouch 4 ur character too.

Okay. Give “poppa” my # and have him call me 2 set up time.

Yes will do. Would love 2 go out with u Bern

…

I mean – oh poop u kno what I mean

Do I?

WOULD LIKE TO HANG WITH YOU AGAIN. Nothing more

Aw nothing more really?

NOW I KNO U R TEASING ME.

Yeah. Kind of?

?? Um, maybe we can discuss what u mean in person :)

If ur Momma and Poppa approve. Hey Dad wants me-

OK! Happy thanksgiving Bernard I am thankful ur my friend

Ditto Willow

~o~O~o~
To be continued tomorrow

If you've gotten this far, please leave a comment! Don't make me reach through the screen and tweak your nose!

Thanks for reading!

“Bernard, I’m barely holding it together,” she quavered. “I … I need to get calmed down. I need something to take the edge off. I … I need … oh god ..”

“Willow – are you asking for … ?” Bernard was afraid to say what he was thinking.

“A couple of Lortabs would really help,” Willow whispered.

~o~O~o~

The next morning Willow was ready to propose that she be allowed a little more freedom. She looked all around the huge house but saw no trace of Gwen.

The teenager tried the intercom. “Momma? Where are you?”

“Hey Willow – I’m in Grandpa’s room. Come on down – I just helped him onto the toilet, so he’ll be in his bathroom for a bit.”

Willow found her unloading one of the many boxes they’d brought from Grandpa’s old apartment. This one seemed to have military things – a combat helmet, boots, and camo gear.

“It’s his old Vietnam souvenirs; he was in the Army in the mid-’60s there. I thought I’d try to make this room as much like home as possible to see if it would help stabilize his memory. Want to help?”

Willow knelt and dug through the box. She pulled out a jacket and noticed the arm. “Mom – what do these stripes mean?”

“He was a Sergeant First Class. That’s about all I know of his service; he never talked about the war.”

“MOM. LOOK,” Willow pulled out two lemon-shaped spheroids with handles and pins. “Are these still live? The pins are still in!”

“Dad told us kids these grenades were just shells, no explosive. They feel too light to me to be active. But don’t pull the pins out, okay?”

Suddenly the door to the guest bath opened. Grandpa John stood there with his pants down around his ankles; he started to step out into the room.

“DAD! NO!” Gwen ran and grabbed him by the chest before he could complete the attempted step. “Willow, help! Pull his pants up!”

Willow jumped into action. As she fastened his trousers around his waist, she felt his hand patting her on the head. “I love you, Susan,” Grandpa croaked.

The two women walked the elderly man back to his bed and guided him into it. “That was a close one,” Gwen whistled. “The last thing he needs is another fall.”

“Momma – when did he start being able to walk? I thought he was bound to the wheelchair.”

“We’ve been giving him heat and massage treatments to his back and hip; it looks like they’ve been working. I saw him get up out of bed by himself last night when I did my bedtime check on him.”

“So he can walk again! That’s good, right?”

“Yes – and no. If he walks, he might fall again unless someone’s here with him. Or he could get into trouble with his confusion – turn a stove burner on, walk out the back door get lost in the desert brush. I think we’ll have to be more alert; it’s going to take all of us staying here to keep him safe.”

“Oh. Okay. That may make my question moot.”

“Oh dear – you were seeking me out to ask me something, right? I’m so sorry, honey – what do you need?”

“I’m just asking: Has Dad talked with Bernard yet? I’d like to be able to go to some NA meetings more often; I feel I’m being a burden to Angie, she’s taken me to 3 already this week. Bernard goes, so he could take me.”

“Willow, your Poppa and I both will be meeting Bernard. I’m skeptical of this friend of yours, more so than your Poppa is. If I get any hint that he’s not on the straight and narrow, then I won’t approve. You dealt drugs with him and he slipped you a phone on the sly. God, as I say that I can’t believe that I’m not just saying “no” outright.”

~o~O~o~

BERNARD!

Yo Willow

MY FOLKS SAY I CAN GO UNSUPERVISED FOR SHORT PERIODS; THEY ARE OK WITH YOU TAKING ME TO N.A. MTGS! YAAAAY!

Awesome! Congrats dudette

U made good impression on Momma & Poppa yesterday. Thanks 4 coming over! She feels good about the new U, and your change 4 the better

U can thank NA and my sponsor 4 that change

So, when r u next going to mtg?

One today at 7pm. Wanna go?

YES, can u pick me up?

B there @ 6:30 ok?

C U then. Life so Gucci* now!

* good, cool

~o~O~o~

Bernard’s El Camino came through the gates of 4701 Las Hongas and drove up to the house.

Willow stood outside waiting for her ride. She wore a white sleeveless button-up blouse, a pleated skirt, clogs and a big smile. Hopping to the curb, she opened the passenger door and jumped in.

“So this is your car? Seems kinda gangsta,” commented the girl.

“It’s a kinda hand-me-down, take-what-i-can-get car,” Bernard replied. “It is a classic, though; a 1975 model. I had to rework the engine, and do a lot of other stuff on it. Caminos are odd cars – car in front, short truck bed in back. Ever ridden in one before?”

“No,” said Willow. “Bernard. You live in North Montanas. Yet you get a tiny allowance and drive a 40-year-old car. Why are your folks so bad to you? Don’t you have the balls to stand up to them?”

“Part of it is Dad’s beliefs. He was born poor; he had to work really hard to get to where he is today. Thinks I need to work as hard as he did to be successful. He wants me to be in business, but all I want to do is work on cars – that’s what turns me on. The other part is that when they caught me using drugs last year, dad reduced my allowance. I don’t disagree with what they did. So the state of my balls shouldn’t be in question.”

“Umm … what I said was harsh. Sorry. I’m still not as polished a girl as I’d like to be.” I’m nervous, she thought. Stop saying stupid stuff, Willow!

“No prob, and no offense taken dudette. We still can jab each other verbally for fun, can’t we?” – he glanced at her, flashing a huge smile. “Hey, here we are.”

Willow gasped. “Chula Vista Episcopal! Our church! This is where the NA meeting is tonight?”

“Yep. Every Saturday at this time. Like I said, a lot of recovered/recovering addicts come to services here; they have an outreach for people like us. And they host a couple of different NA meetings throughout the week.”

~o~O~o~

75 minutes later.

Bernard and Willow waited for their drinks at a local expresso shop, Java Casa. He got coffee with cream; she, herbal tea. They discussed the meeting.

“Okay, Momma just texted back. She’s ok as long as you get me back by 9:00.”

“Great, will do. So what did you think about the meeting, Willow? And hey, are you shivering?”

“Should’ve checked the weather and brought my sweater. The temperature’s really dropped since 7.”

“Here. Wear my coat, I’m fine. You’ll be better once you sip more of that hot tea.” He took off his jacket and slipped it on his female companion.

“Those meetings seem really helpful for you, and for those other addicts there. They don’t really apply to me so much,” Willow said. “ I – hey, Bern. What’s wrong?”

“Keep your head down, Willow,” Bernard urged in hushed tones. “And don’t say a word!”

She did as requested. Bernard looked concerned; Willow eyed him with curiosity and nervousness. Then she heard a new voice from behind her, off to the left.

“Heyyy, Bernie. Howzit hanging? OOPS – sorry. I forgot, you actually got to HAVE cojones to be able to ‘hang’, right?” So spoke a young man with a buzz haircut and a devious smile. He had a black leather jacket covering a black tee, and a big gold chain hung around his neck.

Bernard’s eyes were narrow with suspicion. “Well hi there, Rodrico Santos. What the hell brings you here? Just want to ruin my coffee time?”

Willow’s mental gears whirled furiously. Rodrico Santos. Where have I heard that name? - !! – THAT’S the guy, the junior at Montclair High, who’s been trying to take my place as drug supplier – Bernard told me about him in that first text back in August!

“Not gonna take long, chumpo,” said Rodrico. “You ever see your friend Willy? Or is he still under his stepfather’s thumb?”

“I wouldn’t know, Rico. His Mom won’t let me talk to him.”

“If you ever do, let him know I’m holding out a position as second lieutenant in my little supply chain I’m setting up; all I need are his contacts. He had such an organization, and I don’t wanna reinvent the wheel, ya know? If he don’t get back to me by the end of the year, the deal’s off. He’s a has-been anyway; I just want his damn name recognition.”

“Rico. Even if I could talk to him, I’m clean now. I don’t do drugs or have anything to do with them.”

“Suit yourself, buttwipe. Say, who’s this sweet piece of ass you got here? She any good in the sack?” Rico slipped into the booth seat Willow was in, forcing her to scoot over. “You ought to hang with me instead of this loser, sweets. I got something in my chinos that’ll make you scream; then after, I got something in my jacket that’ll get you higher than the moon.”

“Screw you, pendejo,” Willow spat.

“That wasn’t very nice, bitch,” growled Rico.

Bernard bolted to a standing stance, fists tight. “Keep away from her or they’ll take you out of here in an ambulance, Rico.”

Rico laughed big and long. “I just love getting under your skin, Bernie. You make it so easy.” He then got up and sauntered off.

Bernard was looking at his companion. “Willow … are you okay?”

The girl’s fingernails dug into the table, and her face was flushed red. She spoke in a low volume hiss. “That … BASTARD! A has-been, huh? He’ll ‘let’ me be a second lieutenant – just some f*** flunky to do the dirty work? F****** ASSHOLE! I ought to start getting the network back together – just to rub his damn nose in it!”

“Willow.”

“I know, I know, what about Mom and Stepdevil and my rules? Well F*** them! I’m not gonna stand by while some puke drags my name and rep through the dirt-“

“Willow.”

“WHAT??” she yelled, so loudly that everyone in the shop – including the baristas – turned and looked in their direction. Noticing, she became sheepish. “Uh, sorry everyone. Sorry. Um … ‘What’, Bernard?”

“You’re out of control with your anger. You need to get a grip.”

“Bernard, I’m barely holding it together,” she quavered. “I … I need to get calmed down. I need something to take the edge off. I … I need … oh god ..”

“Willow – are you asking for … ?” Bernard was afraid to say what he was thinking.

“A couple of Lortabs would really help,” Willow whispered.

Bernard silently stared into his friend’s eyes for the next few seconds, then:

“Girl. You know I can’t help you with that.”

“Bern, this is the worst anger I’ve felt since before I became Willow. My chest is about to explode; I want to scream, to kick out that plate glass window over there. Look at my hands – they won’t stop shaking! I can’t lose it – I’ll go to jail, or juvie! Please, please help me!”

“I’m not helping you get lortabs, or any chemical – you know that.”

“I know, I know! I can’t believe I’m hearing myself ask for them! But I can’t be like this either! God - someone help me!”

Bernard slipped out of his booth seat and slid onto Willow’s, next to her. He put his arm around her and gently nudged her head to lean on his shoulder.

“It’s going to be all right, Willow. Relax. Don’t hold on to your anger, let it go. He’s not worth it; he’s not worth your peace, your serenity, your sobriety. You’re gonna be okay, girl.”

“Don’t stop holding me, Bern. Don’t let go.”

Bernard didn’t let go; but he also took his left hand and pulled out his phone, and punched the speaker-dial option.

“Call Joe T.”

In half a minute, a voice emerged from the phone. “Yo, Bernard?”

“Joe. I’m at the Java Casa on Lamesa Street; I’ve got a friend here in crisis. I need an intervention. Can you come, like now?”

“Who’s that?” asked a still trembling Willow.

“My NA sponsor,” reassured Bern. “He said he’s on his way. He can help us.”

“You’re not gonna let go of me, are you, Bern?”

“Not a chance, Willow.”

~o~O~o~

Willow, Bernard and Joe T. sat sipping their drinks. Willow’s shaking had reduced to where she could hold her tea without spilling it. Bernard had just given Joe a quick rundown of the situation.

“So, you’re Bernard’s sponsor,” Willow spoke lowly. “Why are you helping me; do you get reimbursed some way for this?”

“Not with money. Service to the addict who still suffers – when I give it, it keeps me clean and sober,” Joe replied.

“So you’re saying I’m an addict?”

“You had a lortab use problem that put you in teenage jail. And tonight when you needed control of your anger, you had a huge craving for drugs. Sounds like an addict to me.”

Willow winced at the characterization. “But some of those guys and girls in the NA meeting tonight – they had been into really heavy drugs, and lost their jobs, or their marriages, or their kids due to it. Compared to them, my problem is tiny. I’m already feeling calmer – not normal, but better than twenty minutes ago.”

Joe tilted his head towards the cashier at the shop. “See that girl at the register? What do you notice about her?”

“Duh,” said Willow. “She’s pregnant. VERY pregnant. Like, any day now, I’ll bet.”

“Right. Now look at the curly headed barista girl making coffee. She’s thin. But she could be pregnant, too. Let’s say that she is – like one month pregnant. If she is, what’s the difference between her and cashier lady?”

“Eight months?”

“TIME. Time is the only difference. In 8 months curly-head could be just as big as cashier girl. Right now her baby might be tiny compared to a 9 month fetus, but it will get there. Because babies grow; that’s what they do.

“That’s what addiction is like. It grows. If you don’t ‘abort’ your addiction, with time it will be as big a problem as some of the toughest cases you saw at the meeting tonight. If you work on it now, you’ll save yourself the heartache those advanced cases have.”

“But I went to the meeting tonight,” Willow argued. “Yet it didn’t help keep me out of trouble!”

“Sure it did. It got you to be here with Bernard. What if you had gone through this alone? But you’ll need to do more than just attend meetings to keep clean. You need to jump into this recovery program with both feet, like your friend here.”

“Hey, dudette,” Bernard inserted. “When you got stressed, it didn’t take long for you to look for some dope to deal with your problems. You said that this NA stuff was for addicts, and that it didn’t apply to you. But like Joe said, you are an addict, with a small case – one that will grow bigger if you don’t do somethin’.

“And did you see how, once your anger got ahold, you were willing to throw everything away – all that you’ve earned in the last few months? You may think your life is going great, but you’re just one step – one conversation with an asshole – from losing it all. So you have more than addict issues; if you can’t prevent your anger, it will get you killed one day.”

“Yeah,” Willow replied, looking down and shaking her head. “Angry Bill came back tonight, with a vengeance. I thought I was rid of him, Bern. But he was just as strong, as mad, as violent as ever. I was actually talking about trying to deal again! This scares the hell out of me!”

“Dudette, you need a sponsor – someone with experience who can guide you through this program.”

“I agree, Bern. Would you do it? Can you be my sponsor?”

“You really ought to have another woman sponsor you, Willow,” Joe said. “Sponsors can develop intense relationships with their sponsees, and if it accidentally turns into a romance, it screws with their sobriety.” Joe’s eyes opened wide; he had an idea. “Bernard. You know who would be a great sponsor for her? Julia.”

“Yeah, that’s who I was thinking of.” replied Bern. “Willow – I’ll call and see if she can’t see you tomorrow, okay?” He checked his watch. “I’ve got eight minutes to get you home.”

“Okay. What am I going to do about tonight? I’m a little afraid to be alone with my thoughts.”

“Can you get your mom or your sister to help you?”

“We’ll see,” Willow sighed. “Maybe this talk was all I needed. Maybe I can make it through the night now.”

~o~O~o~

Despite her assurance to Bernard and Joe T. hours earlier, Willow was NOT making it through the night – at least not very well. Sleep was hard to come by; her mind was a jumble of thoughts, her emotions an out-of-control roller coaster.

Boy it didn’t take long for old “Willy the Dude” to emerge, did it? I thought like my old aggressive, competetive male self. There was nothing feminine in that meltdown at the café’. So do I really want to be female, or have I been fooling myself this whole time?

Bernard was so sweet, holding me and whispering loving words in my ear. Was it just to get me calmed down, or does he like me? Am I attractive to him as a girl? How can I be – he knows what’s between my legs, and there isn’t one bit of gayness in him (I think?).

That anger I felt! It came without warning, and took over – I had NO control. Tried to do some of the things that Doc taught me with my other emotions, but they failed completely to cool the fire in my chest. How do I control that? All it would take is one horrible anger fit to make me do something to get killed or put in jail. How can I make sure it never happens again? CAN I EVEN believe that I could live my whole life with it never happening again?

My emotions. Sheesh! Anger, fear, sorrow – I’ve been experiencing them all so intensely these last few crazy months. I sure hope they cool off – I can’t live the rest of my life being controlled by my feelings like this, can I?

She found no answers to her questions as she tossed all night.

~o~O~o~

In the morning Willow staggered into the kitchen to make some coffee. Her mother walked into the kitchen wearing a chaste black dress with a green jacket that complemented her blonde hair. “Willow, this morning will be a big test for you, like I told you yesterday. We’re leaving you here to take care of Grandpa while the rest of us go to church. So I’m really trusting you to behave -“ Gwen stopped and saw her daughter’s face. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

“It’s a long story,” Willow answered. “Momma, I’m sorry - I really, really need someone to be with me right now; I don’t want to be alone. I felt so horrible all night.”

“Why didn’t you wake me, honey? I would have been glad to help. If you need me to stay home with you I will.”

“Momma. You hate to miss church. I’d feel guilty.”

“Well, don’t! In my heart, you are way more important than a church service.” She stepped to the intercom. “William? Can you to drive Malachi and Angela to services; I need to stay here with Willow and Grandpa.” She then turned to her daughter. “Let me get some sweats on, and I’ll be right back.”

Most of the rest of the morning, Willow lay in her mother’s lap. She related the happenings of the previous night as Gwen stroked her face and hummed gentle tunes to her daughter.

~o~O~o~

A few hours later.

“Feeling any better?” Gwen asked.

“Yes, Momma. Still a little shaken, but better. Thank you.”

“I need to get Grandpa fed. I’ll make some oatmeal really quick; can you go and wake him up?”

“Will do.”

Gwen was microwaving a bowl of instant oats when a panicked Willow ran into the kitchen.

“Momma! Grandpa’s not in his bed, or his bathroom! I don’t know where he went to!”

“John, where are you? Yell out so we can find you,” Gwen spoke into the intercom as Willow ran to check other parts of the house.

“Momma! The front door’s wide open!”

Gwen ran out the door to the circle driveway; Willow was already there. Most of the 10 acres of the estate were in the front of the house. The yard was xeriscaped so there were no real trees, but plenty of cacti and huge yucca plants. The women frantically scanned the whole area visually.

Gwen finally spied him. “The front gate!”

Far in the distance stood Grandpa John at the entry gate. He was in his pajamas, and yanking at the gate bars in a futile attempt to open them.

“Wait here Willow – I’ll get the golf cart and we’ll ride over.”

“No, Momma – I have to get to him as quick as I can – you meet us there!” The girl took off on foot towards the gate.

The work Willow had done on Angie’s Peloton paid off; her feet tapped the ground in rapid, long strokes as she raced the quarter mile between her and her Grandpa.

The elderly man shook the bars of the entry gate in frustration. As he did, he lost his grip; he stumbled and staggered backwards, heading straight for a nest of cactus plants. His arms swung wild as he vainly tried to recover his balance, then he tipped backwards …

… and was caught just in time by Willow. Grandfather and grandchild were already too ‘tipped’ to stay upright together, so she slowed and guided their descent to the bare ground off to the side of the cactus clump.

“Grandpa! Are you all right?”

“Susan! How are you, my love. I was looking for you!”

Willow once again donned the persona of her Grandma. “I’m fine, John. I was just in another part of the house. You scared the poop out of me, honey!”

Gwen arrived in the golf cart. “John, let’s get you back to the house; it’s too cold to be out here in PJ’s. And ‘Susan’ – great work. That name’s just your secret identity; you’re really Supergirl, I’m sure of it!”

~o~O~o~

William, Mal and Angie had just gotten home from church; William brought in a few spit-roasted chickens and side dishes from the nearby grocery. Gwen was telling him about the morning’s excitement.

“You should have seen Willow, honey – jumping into action without having to be told. She saved Dad from another fall. I told her she’s a little Supergirl.”

“Good job, daughter,” William smiled. “You’re a chip off the old block. Your mom’s block. Her old block … boy, this isn’t coming out the way I meant at all. I shall now deftly change the subject. What do we need to do to prevent this in the future?”

“I’m looking online for a GPS tracker made especially for wandering dementia patients,” replied Gwen, “and I think I’ve found one. It’s got a 10 mile detection radius, and you just use your phone to locate; or you can have the police help by giving them the tracker frequency. It costs a pretty penny, mind you.”

“I’ll work on some things to make the house safer, like disabling the oven and stove knobs when they’re not in use,” added William.

“Mom, what if Grandpa gets worse? Like starting to walk around half-naked, dropping and breaking glasses and plates? I know there’s five of us and one of him, but I can feel us all getting more stretched and stressed over this,” worried Angie.

“Well .. there are special nursing homes that deal with Alzheimer’s patients in the stage he’s in. I was really hoping to avoid that. But if he’d be safer there, then we may need to consider it. Those types of facilities are REALLY expensive, though. Like ‘we’d-have-to-downsize-to-a-smaller-house’ expensive,” Gwen fretted.

“Or, instead of downsizing, you could come back to work for me,” her husband suggested. “That could solve a lot of money problems.”

“Honey – even if Dad was in a facility, I still need to be here to homeschool Willow.”

“Not if we let Willow go back to Montclair High.”

The whole family stopped and looked at William, amazed at this statement from “Mr. Strict Rules”.

“REALLY?” squeaked Willow in excitement. “I could go back to where all my friends are? COOL! – Oh, wait a minute. All my friends know me as a rough boy named Bill. This is gonna be complicated. But it’s still cool!”

“Time out,” announced Gwen, making a “T” sign with her hands like an NFL referee. “Willow, have you forgotten what happened yesterday? I’m not sure you’re ready for public school yet.”

“What happened?” inquired William.

Gwen turned towards her newest daughter. “Why don’t you tell him?”

Willow’s eyes got red, and her voice choked. She just knew this was going to disappoint her Poppa so much. “Umm …

… Angry Bill came back.”

~o~O~o~

To be continued tomorrow

If you've gotten this far, please leave a comment! Don't make me reach through the screen and tweak your nose!

Thanks for reading!

“Hooo –eee, “ Bernard exclaimed. “That’s the hottest kiss I’ve ever had – and I’ve had my share.”

“I loved it!” exulted Willow. “I love you! – Oh, wait. Omigod! I – I didn’t mean - ”

~o~O~o~

Thanks to everyone for bearing with me. I missed posting yesterday (see my blog post from them). My arm is not broken! Just bruised as "all get-out", as my gramma would have said. Anyway, on with the story.

~o~O~o~

It was 2pm that same Sunday as Willow approached her Momma. “Bernard’s on the phone; he’s asked to speak with you.”

Gwen put Willow’s cell to her ear. “Hello, Bernard.”

The mother listened for a short while, then said “Yes. Now will be fine. I’ll meet you at the front door, and I want to talk to her before you both get with my daughter. And Bernard – thank you for helping Willow yesterday, for standing with her and supporting her in that crisis. I’m so glad you were there. See you within the hour.” She then handed the phone back to Willow. “Bernard’s bringing someone over to help you – a mentor, I suppose.”

“I think they call them sponsors, Momma. Did he say who he’s bringing?”

“No. He said “she”, so I think it’s a woman.”

~o~O~o~

Willow waited expectantly on the living room sofa as she heard the sounds from the entryway. Her mother was interviewing Bernard and the mystery girl he’d brought with him. Finally, the talking stopped and Gwen led the other two to where her daughter was.

“Willow, you know Bernard here; and his friend is Julia. I’ll leave you three alone in here; I have laundry to do.”

“Hi, Willow. Good to meet you. I’m Julia, like she said.” These words came from a statuesque black woman wearing a cobalt blue dress; she had long straightened hair down to her breasts. “Okay if I sit down next to you?” She sat on the sofa while Bernard took a high backed chair.

“So you’re the ‘help’ Bernard promised,” said Willow. “I assume you know my situation. How are you going to try to fix me?”

Julia leaned towards the teen. “I thought you might want to use me as a sponsor in NA. I’m specially equipped to help someone like you.”

“What does THAT mean?”

“Well, I’ve had addiction problems with drugs and alcohol; I’ve overcome – and am still overcoming - severe emotional issues, including anger; I’ve been clean and sober for 3 years; and I’m a trans woman.”

“OMG! Those are all my issues! Are you for real?”

“Yeah, last time I checked.”

“Wait. So let me get this straight. You want to be my Narcotics Anonymous sponsor, right?”

“I only want to if you want to. I’m not here to pressure you; just letting you know I’m available.”

“She’s good, Willow,” added Bernard. “She’s not my sponsor, but she’s talked me through some rough spots this last year.”

“But …” Willow appeared a little confused. “Drugs are only a part of my issues – and not even the biggest part. How is having an NA sponsor going to help my anger when it’s out of control?”

“Honey. NA doesn’t focus mainly on staying off drugs, though that is a requirement. It teaches you how to deal with LIFE, so that you don’t turn to drugs, or food, or anger, or gambling, or alcohol whenever the stress gets high. This is the basis for all 12 step programs. The principles apply universally. And it helps to have a mentor – or as we say, a sponsor – around to help you through the steps. I want to hear your story, Willow; and after that, I’ll tell you mine.”

Julia listened intently to Willow’s story, grinning at how the teen started out to fool her parents and ended up discovering her true self. Willow was amazed at what Julia had been through; it made her own struggles seem like a piece of cake. At the end of their meeting, the young girl formally asked the older woman to be her sponsor in Narcotics anonymous.

“Now,” said Julia, “I’m writing out an accelerated schedule for you to work through the 12 steps. It will take a lot of time and energy, so your Mom needs to be OK with it. Let’s call her back in here.”

Bernard looked over Julia’s shoulder as she wrote down the action plan on a legal pad. “Wow, Jules – that’s really intense! It took eight months working with Joe T. for me to get to step 12. You’re planning on getting Willow there in 4 to 6 weeks?”

“Bernard, with the intensity of her emotions, we don’t need to dawdle. She needs to get into the fast lane of recovery. If it’s too much, I’ll tap the brakes – she’ll be talking with me daily.”

“So, I’ll be done with this in less than 2 months?” queried Willow.

Julia and Bernard both smiled wistfully at her response. “Unfortunately, girl, you’re never done,” said the sponsor. “Once you get to the advanced steps, you still have to keep practicing them every day. Reading, writing, meditation, meetings, phone calls – they’ll need to be a part of your sober life from now on, to keep your recovery going. Working through the steps intensely just gets you to recovery faster.

~o~O~o~

It was now December 20.

Willow and her Momma were at Dr. Estrada’s for counseling and shots. He was proud of her. “You’ve done very well with your weight loss, Willow; 12 pounds in the last 4 weeks!”

“Yes, I’ve lost every place on my body – except my thighs and hips. They keep bloating in spite of everything I try. Should I consider lipo?”

“You’re only 15, Willow. I wouldn’t recommend plastic surgery of any kind – even lipo – until you’re closer to 18 or 20. But let me check those areas.”

The doctor felt the outer crests of the hips and measured all around them, including the upper thighs; then he stepped back. “That isn’t fat, Willow. Your pelvic bones have widened. It’s a result of the hormones, although the high level of development you’re showing is a lot more than most trans females get. It appears that you’re building an extremely feminine pelvic outlet.”

“Outlet? What kind of outlet … I don’t understand,” fretted Willow. “Is that bad? Are there side effects I need to watch for?”

“I’m talking about your pelvic girdle – it has a more oval, widened proportion.”

“But I’m not wearing a girdle,” said the girl, head whirling in confusion.

Dr. Estrada sighed and scratched his head.

Gwen laughed. “Relax, doc; I speak teenager. Honey – he means you’re getting a “J. Lo” butt. The only negative effect is having to buy new clothes that fit it.”

“A Jennifer Lopez Butt! Doc - you told me not to expect much hip development, right?”

“As I said, yours is an extreme case. Most trans women would give an eyetooth to get what you’re getting.

So, it looks good then?” Willow wore a goofy grin. “Hey, I can think of some side effects. May cause whiplash in boy’s necks as I walk by. An uncontrollable urge to twerk …” The young girl stood and started to shake her rear end right there in the exam room. “Woo hoo!”

“That’s quite enough, daughter,” said Gwen as she pointed sharply to Willow’s chair seat. “Ah, to be a hot young teen girl. Sometimes I miss those days. But when I remember the cliques, emotions, acne, and advanced calculus, I get over it quick.”

Willow’s joy ebbed a little as the doctor examined her chest. “Am I getting ANY boobie growth, doc?”

“There’s not much tissue yet, but it’s still early – give them time. Your nipples are well developed at least. And your face is more rounded and softer. Your overall physical feminization is proceeding at a steady, acceptable pace. Now, let’s talk about your feminine socialization.”

~o~O~o~

Hey Bernard

Hey Willow

Do u remember this text a few weeks ago:

[[ Would love 2 go out with u again Bern

…

I mean – oh poop u kno what I mean

Do I?

WOULD LIKE TO HANG WITH YOU AGAIN. Nothing more

Aw nothing more really?

NOW I KNO U R TEASING ME.

Yeah. Kind of?

?? Um, maybe we can discuss what u mean in person ☺]]

Yes Willow I remember that text.

Well the Doc thinks I need to be doing more things socially with other people, more than just NA mtgs. – Like dates.

How did ur Mom take that advice

She’s OK with it! Especially OK with the person I told her I want to date.

Who’s that?

Give u 3 guesses

OK Justin Bieber?

NO

Dwayne “the Rock” Johnson?

No

I give up

IT’S YOU, DUM DUM! I want 2 go out on date with u. And folks OK with it. Do u want to?

Yes. Feel a little funny; I’m the guy, I should be asking u, not vise versa

Hey it’s the 21st century. Girls can ask guys.

Willow only prob is I’m low on funds rite now

No prob, I can pay

Or we could make it a cheap date.

What would we do on a cheap date

Short cheap date – take scenic drive to Overlook park and watch sunset while sipping hot choc 2 keep us warm

Ooh sounds nice

Longer cheap date – hike through Mckinney state park to El Capitan, sleep in sleeping bags under the stars. Can’t do that til weather warms up, maybe April.

Oooo sounds romantic!

Sorry I’m not able 2 take u 2 dinner and dancing at Hilton

Bernard I’d b happy sharing a coke in ur car at Sonic as long as it was with u

Really? ☺

Um I like u, if u can’t tell. There I said it.

So Overlook Park next Friday? Pick u up @ 5

I’ll b ready. (EEEEEEEEEE!!!!) (That’s me happy about our DATE!!)

~o~O~o~

Willow sat with Bernard at the Thursday night NA meeting; this one convened in a Jewish synagogue. It was a few minutes until the start.

“I’m looking forward to our date tomorrow night, Willow,” Bern whispered into her left ear.

“Oh Bern, I am too! But tonight? I’m so not looking forward to what I need to do!”

“Hang in there. I’ll be in the room here with you.”

“So will I,” said a just-arrived Julia as she sat down on Willow’s right. “This will be tough; even harder than your 4th step last week. But I know you got this, girl.”

The meeting started with announcements and a Serenity Prayer. A designated speaker talked for twenty minutes, then the floor was opened up for general sharing. Julia prompted Willow with a mild elbow nudge. The girl stayed seated, but spoke up.

“H – hi, I’m Willow. I’m a recovering addict,” she blurted.

“Hello, Willow,” the room replied in unison.

“It’s been two months or so since I used anything – some vodka from my parent’s liquor cabinet. But I haven’t been working the program until 3 weeks ago. I’m a transgender girl; some of you may remember me as Willy the Dude. As Willy, I dealt drugs in the North Montanas area over a year ago. Some of you in this room were my customers. And to you, I say: I am so sorry. I’m sorry for the part I played in getting you or keeping you addicted. I ask your forgiveness, please. If you’d like, I plan on hanging around this room once the meeting is over, and if there’s anything I can do to make it up to you, I will.

“It’s really scary trying to live life and handle my emotions without drugs to cool me down. I need to be able to call you guys for support when I need it, and I can’t do it if I haven’t made amends to you.. That’s the step I’m on – number 9, making direct amends. There’s so many in here –” she had to stop and do a quick sob and dab her tears – “so many here I need to do that with, I thought I’d try to get you done in one night.”

Willow stopped talking and wept as quietly as she could, face in her hands.

“Thank you, Willow,” said the meeting’s leader.

“That’s my girl,” whispered Julia, smiling.

~o~O~o~

13-year-old Malachi Eiken was still in bed at 9:45 am this Friday, two days before Christmas. A knock on his door woke him up; Willow stuck her head in.

“Hey, Mal. Momma says get up or William will come here and play Reveille on his old army bugle until you do.”

“Oh! No, no – I’m getting up. I got that treatment once last year. Never again.”

“Well if you’re ready, I’ve got breakfast for you – pancakes and eggs.” Willow entered with a food tray containing the fresh warm offerings. She carried a TV dinner table with her other hand; she set it all up in front of her brother who sat on the side of his bed, incredulous at the actions of his sibling.

Mal was in gym shorts and a holey cotton undershirt, his usual sleepwear. Willow wore a peasant shirt with girl’s embroidered jeans that held her womanly pelvis quite adequately. She sat cross-legged on her brother’s bedroom floor to wait for him to finish his meal.

To his credit, Mal said grace (it took 1.4 seconds) before inhaling the food in his typical teen male athlete fashion. “MMmmm – pancakes. Sooo good. Okay, what’s the catch Willow? Breakfast in bed – I never get that unless I’m sick. You need a favor or something?”

“Yes Mal, a favor. I need you to let me make some amends to you.”

“What the heck is an amend? Did you mean amen? Are we gonna pray or what?”

“No – an amend is when I take something wrong that I did, and try to make it right.”

“Oh …” said Mal, still wondering what was going on. “OH. This is something to do with your drug therapy group, isn’t it? I noticed you and Angie had a talk in her room last night. You guys finally came out, crying but smiling. Ever since you got with that woman Bernard brought over you’ve been, like, all about ‘relationships’. Ugh. You’re not gonna try to get me to cry, right?”

“No,” Willow laughed. “Not unless you really want to!”

“So when did you do something wrong to me? As Willow, you’ve just let me be.”

“Maybe – but as Bill, I did some nasty things. Like slugging you when you teased or bugged me.”

“Come on – that’s just stuff guys do.”

“Not when the slug is so hard that it leaves a fist sized bruise, or puts you in a sling. Remember that one time?”

“Yeah. But Mom and William grounded you, so you paid your dues for it.”

“But I never said I was sorry. Mal – I’m sorry for that.”

“Okay, fine. We done now?”

“Just a minute more, please. I’m also sorry about the air.”

“O-kaayyyy … ?”

“These last few years as Bill I was so rebellious that Momma and Poppa’s focus was on reining me in; they had to spend so much time and energy on me that you and Angie got shortchanged. I kind of sucked all the air out of the room.”

“And it’s the same now that you’re Willow,” Mal added. “Everyone just loves you; you’re the star of the show. William especially is dazzled by your complete turnaround. I’m still pushed to the back of everyone’s attention. But that’s life, I guess.“

“And I’ve just been soaking up that attention and still ignoring you. I’m sorry for that too. I’d like to change that. Maybe we can spend more time together?”

“It’s a little late for that, ain’t it? It would have been so cool to hang with my older brother. Now he wants to spend time with me, except he’s become a girl. I’m not into shopping or fashion or chick flicks, and you suddenly are.”

Willow looked at the floor and shook her head. “I can’t remember a time that I was ever a good brother to you. I’ve been so selfish, so focused on me, me, me; if – “

“Third grade. When I was in third grade and you were in fifth, at Hoyt Elementary. Some of the other fifth graders – led by that jerk Freddie Janeway – were punching and kicking me in the corner of the yard during recess. You broke in, slugged Freddie in the gut, and stood in front of me like a shield. I still remember how pale those guy’s faces got when you described what you’d do to them if they ever touched me again. That day you were an awesome brother. I’ll never forget it.”

“Huh. I do remember that, now. I’m afraid I couldn’t be as intimidating these days.”

“I’d be open to doing things with you, Willow – if we just had more in common.”

“Do you still like cars? I haven’t put together my Dodge Viper model yet; nor my Godzilla.”

Mal’s eyes grew wide. “Dude – you never let me help you put a kit together before!”

Willow smiled for the first time in the conversation. “How about we do that, tonight or tomorrow morning?”

“Consider it a done deal, bro! Er … sis!”

~o~O~o~

Christmas day this year had been the most drama-free yule the Eikens had seen in a while. Presents were opened, songs were sung, and feasts were eaten. Willow even allowed herself a small slice of her mother’s chess pie; it was made from scratch only once a year, so indulging could be forgiven.

Instead of clothes, Angie got a hefty gift card to Macy’s and a golden retriever puppy, something she’d requested for the last year. Mal got the latest Nike Air rides and a package of new cotton undershirts with a plea from his Mom to throw away his old holey ones. Willow got Dillard’s gift card, and a fine gold chain with a sweetheart pendant. “For your date tomorrow,” her Momma whispered in her ear.

“So this is what Christmas feels like. I can’t believe I spent the last 3 locked in my room, sulking and jamming on the guitar all day,” Willow sighed. “At least I’m enjoying my family this time.”

~o~O~o~

December 26, 4:55 pm

The gate to the Eiken estate opened, and an old El Camino drove through it and onto the grounds. It pulled up to the front of the mansion and stopped. A tall boy with a brown mop of hair got out, leaving the car running so the interior stayed heated. He wore jeans, his least worn pair of sneakers, a ribbed pullover sweater and a jacket on top of that; it was chilly out tonight.

Before he could ring the bell, the door opened. William Eiken stood blocking the entrance, arms folded and scowl-faced. “Hello Bernard. Willow’s almost ready; she’s in the kitchen. Now, you do remember our phone conversation earlier?”

“Yes sir. I promise you I’ll abide by your wishes.”

William smiled big. “Come on in then, young man.” He then spoke into the intercom: “Willow, he’s here.”

Willow came around the corner into the entryway where the two males stood. She was snugly covered head to foot in black wool, with a sweater top, a loose midiskirt with leggings and go-go boots. A wide patent leather belt crossed her midsection; a chunky wool beanie with a cute pompom on top and thick winter coat ensured she wouldn’t get chilled. She carried two insulated mugs.

“I’ve got our hot chocolate,” she beamed with a million watt smile.

“Uhh, wow. WOW. Willow, you’re gorgeous.”

“Thanks,” she blushed. “You’re really handsome tonight.”

“Have her home by 10, please,” remarked Willow’s Poppa. “Stay out of trouble.”

“Yes sir, Robocop Pop,” Willow laughed as they trotted to the Camino.

~o~O~o~

Overlook park was not as crowded as it usually would have been due to the cold front that blew in last night; but Bernard still had to do a little searching for a good parking spot with a view. Once he found it, he parked the car and turned off the engine; both he and Willow were pretty toasty warm at the present.

“I’m going to take this coat off, if it’s OK with you,” Willow said as she slid out of it.

“I’m taking mine off too,” said Bernard. “But now I’ve got a problem: an emptiness between my right arm and my chest. Can you help with that?”

“Yeah, I can,” she whispered as she slid across the bench seat and nestled next to him.

Bernard squeezed her around her shoulders. “You sure have become comfortable being a chick, even to where you’re snuggling with a dude. For someone who was, like, an uber-alpha male just a few months ago. When did you start liking guys?”

“Like I told my sister, I’m not really guy-crazy, except over one guy. I started dreaming about kissing you a few weeks after I started the hormones. I already appreciated your faithfulness as a good bud; the attraction just started to morph into where I kinda thought you were … um … really hot.” She blushed with that.

“Maybe it’s because when I decided to become Willow, I committed to the role as full as I could. Like jumping head first into a feminine river. I didn’t expect for the current to be so strong; it’s taking me downstream with it, and I’ve found I’m loving the ride.”

They watched the sunset over the cities of El Paso, Texas, and Juarez, Mexico. As the light in the sky turned from yellow to orange to red, the city lights began flickering on. Finally, the sky was dark except for a lingering blue where the sun had last been, and the many urban lights gave the impression of a huge, flat Christmas tree as they hugged to the valley.

“This is so amazingly pretty,” breathed Willow in between sips of her cocoa. “I can’t believe I’ve lived here all my life and am just seeing this for the first time.”

“A vista bonita for a chica bonita,” Bernard said. “The most beautiful thing here is sitting right next to me.”

She craned her neck up to look in his eyes. “You really mean that?”

“With all my heart, girl.” He looked down at her. Then his eyelids started to droop as his face approached hers.

Willow’s heart palpitated wildly as she realized her first kiss as a girl was seconds away. She held her breath, not wanting to interrupt the moment. His lips touched hers, and her whole world exploded.

Their tongues mingled, then their lips pulled apart for a split second before meeting again with more ardor. The kiss grew in desperation and intensity, as their mouths wrestled, each searching for more and more release.

Finally, the buss ended. “Hooo –eee, “ Bernard exclaimed. “That’s the hottest kiss I’ve ever had – and I’ve had my share.”

“I loved it!” exulted Willow. “I love you! – Oh, wait. Omigod! I – I didn’t mean - ”

Except for breathing, there was dead silence for a second. Willow’s mind twisted in agony. Oh no, nononono! Stupid, stupid! I’ve ruined it – the date, my love, my life! I said it too soon, he’ll be scared away, why o why did I -

Then Bernard spoke.

“It’s okay, Willow. I love you too.”

Willow resumed the kiss with desperation. They hugged and smooched; she pulled her body as close to his as their clothes would allow. Both their hands started roaming the outside of each other’s clothes; their torsos were rubbed and squeezed. Bernie’s hands migrated downward a number of times toward’s Willow’s butt, but rose up to her back as quickly as they’d descended. Willow’s hands rubbed Bernard’s back and chest mainly. Then her right hand carefully, slowly descended to his groin; it carefully felt the outline of his crotch outside of his jeans without grabbing or squeezing.

“Willow,” gasped Bernard.

“Sorry! Sorry, I just … I just wanted to see if I was getting you … you know!”

“You absolutely were. But unless you want to go a lot further you’d better stop,” Bernard said with heaving breaths.

“I do. I do want to go a lot further. I want to go all the way, dammit!” Willow cursed. “But Momma had a long talk with me earlier today, and I promised her I wouldn’t go too far. And if I break my promise, I set myself up for emotional screw-ups later.”

“Same here. Your dad called me on the phone earlier today, and extracted the same promise out of me that your mom did with you.”

“Why do they have to be such prudes? It’s almost the mid-21st century!”

“Willow, I think they’re trying to keep all your feelings with an even keel. I think they want the best for you.”

“Bernard … did you want to go further?”

“Well, yeah. You felt my hard on, right?”

“What if we went all the way and just didn’t tell them?” Willow whispered in his ear.

Bernard squinted at Willow. “You don’t have a vag. What do you consider all the way?”

“Hmm. I guess, one of us – or both of us – coming, in some way? Or part of your body inside part of mine? I don’t know – but I know right now we’re nowhere near all the way, whatever it is.”

“Well, we’re not doing that, Willow. Your dad, among other things, reminded me of the statutory rape laws in Texas. I’m 17, you’re 15; If I sleep with you, or the equivalent thereof, I could go to jail. Even if you promise to keep it secret, I can’t risk that.”

“OMG, you’re kidding! He threatened that? Well I don’t know about you, but I’m starting to get seriously ticked off at my folks.”

“Willow. Don’t joke about anger. They’re doing it because they love you, whether we agree with them or not.”

“I know, I know. You’re right, as usual,” she sighed. “How much more could we do without it being sex?”

“Hmm,” thought Bern. “If we didn’t take any clothes off, and didn’t touch each other’s crotches or tits with our hands …”

“Or mouths,” Willow added.

“Then – we could get a little friskier, without calling it sex. Want to try?”

Both of them resumed kissing, barely coming up for air. Willow had an idea, and broke the kiss.

“Scoot over to the middle of the bench seat,” Willow whispered with urgency. After Bernard did so, she pulled her right leg over and straddled his lap facing him. She wriggled her hips to settle in fully onto her new setting. “Now, where were we…?”

The smooching returned to it’s previous fervency. It was accompanied by a pelvic grinding, with both boy and girl pushing and rubbing with equal participation. Bernard’s hands roamed all over Willow’s wool coverings; they eventually dropped down to her buttocks, and he felt the outline of her thighs, her butt, her waist. He gasped in amazement.

“Baby! Your ass – how – when – “

“You like? No pads, no implants. It’s all me. And it’s all yours.”

Bernard moaned as the grinding resumed – he realized he was moments from coming into his pants. Willow sensed it too, and she began to almost bounce up and down as her groin rubbed into his. Though she wasn’t getting hard, she was definitely getting aroused.

“oh god oh god oh OOOUUUNNGGHH!” Bernard finally groaned.

Willow was satisfied at pleasing her lover even as she felt a little frustrated at not being able to share a climax. But before she could utter a remark, Bernard’s mouth went to her neck and started kissing, licking and sucking. “OOOoooh!” Willow said with a shiver of ecstasy; she could feel her nipples hardening. She started massaging them through her sweater and bra, using her fingertips.

Willow was intoxicated with these new sensations coming from her chest and neck. Bern’s hands, meanwhile, grabbed her rear and pulled it towards him to resume the grinding in earnest.

Now the girl was the one being heavily stimulated, and she shook and rocked with her lover. She’d never had an orgasm without an erection, and was unsure about what this building feeling inside of her was. She didn’t wonder for long.

“**pant, pant** Hhuuuhh, oohh … hah …**gasp, gasp, GASPGASP** ohh ffffaaAA ..HAHhh!”

Both teens didn’t move for a long minute; all that could be heard was the gradual slowing of heavy breathing. Gradually, words came.

“Willow. Oh girl, you’re great. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I think I’m pregnant.”

“Hahaha. Good one.”

“Oh god, I want a vagina so bad right now! A vagina and a hotel room with you.”

“Don’t worry, baby. One day. One day soon.”

Willow arched back to look him in the eye. “You mean one day I’ll have a vagina? Or one day I’ll be with you in a hotel room? Or … both?”

“Who knows, Willow? Maybe. To both. I wouldn’t mind having both.”

She leaned forward into him, laying her head on his shoulder. “I wouldn’t mind it either.”

“Not much of a view anymore.”

Willow looked. All of the Camino’s windows were steamed up fully.

Suddenly there was a tap at the driver’s side window. Red and blue flashing lights were glowing through the steam on the glass.

“Move along, please,” came a muffled voice outside the car, “or we’ll ticket you.”

~o~O~o~

To be continued tomorrow.

If you've gotten this far, please leave a comment! Don't make me reach through the screen and tweak your nose!

Thanks for reading!

~o~O~o~
“I’m ba-ack!” Willow yelled after entering the front door to her home. The goodnight kiss from Bernard had been wonderful, but she found her mind unable to leave the steamy episode in his car.

“Welcome back, honey. How was it?” came Gwen’s voice over the intercom.

“It was great! Sooo much fun; the sunset was gorgeous.”

“I’ll be there after a while to get more details. Jax just pooped on our oriental rug, and I’m trying to get it up before it stains.” Willow sensed just a little irritation from the intercom; Angie’s new puppy was not housebroken, and not learning very well.

Angie walked into the front entry holding her puppy. “Hey Willow, how was the date?”

“Great! But hey, shouldn’t you be helping Momma clean up after Jax? You told her that you’d deal with any –“

“I tried but she shoo’d me away! She’s pretty upset about it so I didn’t argue with her. Jax is on really thin ice with Mom, and that means I am too. But enough about my errant pup. Let’s go to my room and talk about the date!”

~o~O~o~

“How romantic – you just sipped hot chocolate and watched the sunset? So sweet – but you guys were gone nearly 3 hours. Didn’t it get kind of boring?”

“Oh no. Umm … it wasn’t boring at all. Nope. Not at all.”

“I thought not! Okay, dish it sis. Tell me all the steamy details! You kissed at the park, right?”

“Well first I just sat next to him and snuggled. Then I looked up at him and he was looking back down, and getting closer. When our lips touched … ! I’ve had a first kiss as a boy before, but this one was waaay better.”

“Oh Willow, that’s so cool – I’m so happy for you.” Then Angie leaned close and whispered. “Did things get any hotter than just kissing?”

“Um, yeah … is it cool for sisters to talk about this stuff? I’m a little worried about what you’re going to think.”

“I guess it depends on how far you went, if you catch my drift. You didn’t have sex, did you?”

“No, we didn’t. We kept all of our clothes on.”

“There’s a lot you can do with clothes on. Speaking from experience.”

Willow tilted her head at her older sis. “Angie! You’re a virgin, right?”

“Yes ma’am, absolutely! But I’ve done heavy petting, if you catch my drift. So did you - ahem – stimulate his penis in any way?”

“Ang – I already said we kept our clothes on. His fly stayed zipped. I made no contact with his penis. No direct contact.”

Angie's eyes narrowed. “Indirect contact?”

“Um, kind of a lap dance. You’re not telling Momma any of this, right?”

“Nope. I’m Switzerland, remember? I stay out of any conflict between you and our parents. Now. Did you finish him off – make him come?”

“Angie! I’m done with this.”

“So you did, then. Otherwise you’d deny it.”

Willow groaned. “Okay, so we did some heavy petting. Some REALLY heavy petting. Do you think less of me now?”

Angie laughed. “Nope! I’m happy for you. And maybe a little jealous? I need a boyfriend again. Here comes Mom, by the way. Don’t tell her about the lap dance and it’ll be okay.”

“Thank you for the advice, Angie. I owe you.”

~o~O~o~

When I told Ang “I owe you one” I didn’t think she’d ask for the repayment so quickly, thought Willow. It was the morning after her date; she had just walked little Jax 1.5 miles to the North Montanas Veterinary Clinic to get some vaccinations. Angie was back home helping Momma “dog-proof” the house as much as possible with water-repelling sprays and such. The weather had warmed significantly; Willow got by fine with a thick maroon sweater and jeans.

She handed the puppy to the vet tech at the counter. He wore a UTEP (U. of Texas at El Paso) cap and a matching T-shirt under his long sleeved white clinician’s coat. His voice was so hoarse Willow wondered if he was ill with laryngitis. “No, this is just my normal sound,” he rasped. “I’ll have your dog done in 5 minutes.”

She sat in the waiting area reminiscing about last night’s date. Her heart was so full of good feelings: joy, excitement, fulfillment, a little lust and especially love. I’m in love, I’m sure of it. Oh, I’m crushing on him really hard; but underneath there’s a deep affection. Our long friendship gives us a solid foundation to build on. I wonder if we’ll get married someday. Then I’d be Willow Andujar. Bernard and Willow Andujar. That sounds so cool!

There was one more person she wanted to dish about her date with: Julia, her sponsor. However, she still had some writing and meditation to do before she made that phone call. Oh, and I need to make that amend to the English teacher I terrorized freshman year. Better get on that as soon as she gets out of school. Sponsors, parents, siblings, talking, honesty, apologies and affirmations – achieving a healthy relational and emotional life balance sure took a lot of work.

“Here he is,” announced the gravel-voiced tech. “Unless you’re going to breed him, you ought to think about getting him neutered soon. We do that here. Have a nice day.”

“Not yet, Jax, not yet,” Willow spoke in goo-goo language to the dog as they walked home. “Only one sex change at a time in this family, isn’t that right pup-pup?”

~o~O~o~

Hey Willow you there sweetie?

Hi Bernard!

Wanna go out tonight?

Sure! Let me ask permission but I’ll bet it’s ok. What do you want to do?

Let’s go out to eat. I have some cash on me. Do you like Denny’s?

Denny’s is great. Especially with U.

Got an idea I want 2 run by u.

Sure, what?

Tonight. Will discuss then

Can u give me a hint?

Um … no, want 2 tell u in person

Uh oh! Should I B worried? Bad news?

No. Good news. Hopefully to u it will B great news.

OMG now I will be useless until the date – can’t stop thinking about what this news will B!

Uh, sorry. I should have kept it to myself until tonight.

Let me ask Momma’s permission real quick. I’ve finished all my homework. And after Denny’s maybe we can have some dessert? Sweet kisses in ur car?

If I can have some of ur hot honey buns too

HOT HONEY BUNS IT IS, THEN! CAN’T WAIT!!! EEE!!!

~o~O~o~

Bernard and Willow slid into a booth at Denny’s that evening, Dec. 2. The sun was already down. The supper rush wasn’t too bad, so they didn’t have to wait to be seated. Scattered throughout the place was the eclectic mix of characters Denny’s was known for; a hardscrabble loner here and there, various couples (one inebriated from an early bar run), and a family or two.

“Thanks for letting me take you here, Willow. It’s not high class, but the food is good and the price is right.”

“Don’t worry Bernard; Denny’s or Starbucks, hoofing it or limousine – I’m flexible. But I’m also on the edge of my seat in anticipation. What’s this thing you want to talk about?”

He smiled and reached across the table to take her hands in his. “I’ve been thinking about our date at Overlook park.”

“Oh! Me too,” smiled Willow. “It was sooo much fun – romantic and hot!”

“Yes it definitely was. And I thought about the things you said, you know, about wanting a hotel room and a vag –“

“SHH! Babe – we’re in public! We need to watch what we say,” Willow scolded.

“Okay, sorry. But you remember that, right? And do you also remember what you accidentally said?

“I said I love you,” Willow blushed. “And you told me you loved me too. Do you still feel that way?”

“One hundred percent, baby. So I’ve been thinking … do you see a future with us being, like, living together permanently? Because I do, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since the date. I can’t work, I can’t sleep – all I do is think of you and me.”

“Oh Bernard, I’ve been dreaming about us and our future since our last kiss that night. I dream of us having our own home someday, raising some kids, going to sleep in your arms each night and waking up in them each morning.” She now dropped her volume to the barest whisper. “And wondering how it would be if we could do … you know … whenever we wanted to.”

Bernard whispered just as quietly. “Making love to you is almost all I can think about. Getting just a taste of you the other night; it’s driving me wild. I’ve got to have you, babe.”

“Um,” Willow mumbled. “Maybe we can go, like, a little further tonight? Would that help?”

“Baby – I need you. I need it all, all you have to give. But I know about all of the obstacles that we discussed – they’re still there. So, we need to talk about marriage.”

Willow’s head got light, and her goofy smile popped on her face. “You want to marry me? I know we’ve been talking around that word, but to hear it … so cool!”

“I need to marry you, Willow.”

Then the impossible happened. Bernard got out of his booth seat, pulled something out of his shirt pocket, and kneeled on one knee in front of his date. He held out now a ring of sorts, and said:

“Willow Ramos. Will you marry me?”

Willow was confused. This can’t be real; it’s a joke, surely. That ring, even – it looks like it’s plastic, and it has a gap in it. Yes, this is a huge prank. Okay.

“Where’d you get that toy?” she whispered with a smile.

“Out of the 25 cent vending machines at Wal-Mart. Best I could do at short notice.”

Other diners had taken notice of what Bern was doing, and were looking at Willow for a response.

“Oh my, sir,” Willow played along. “What a momentous occasion! Are you sure in your heart that you want to spend the rest of your life with little ol’ me?”

“Say yes!” urged one old man at the counter.

“Nothing would make me happier, baby. Please be my wife!” urged Bernard.

“Say yes, say yes, say yes,” some other diners chanted.

“Well, sir, seeing as you’ve acquired a five carat diamond, and have wined and dined me at this fine French restaurant –“

“French?” Bernard asked.

“French fries, French toast,” Willow winked. “Ahem, since you’ve been so romantic tonight, I have no choice but to say yes to your wonderfully generous proposal!”

“She said yes!” Bernard announced to the dining area.

“YAAY!” the audience responded, with clapping and whistles.

“Oh Willow, I love you so much. This is a dream come true!” said Bern as he hugged his date.

“You’re such a nut, Bern. This was fun!” she replied.

Bernard sat back down on his side of the booth. “Okay. So the next thing to do, since you’re only 15, is to get consent from your parents.”

“Consent for what?”

“For me to marry you, Willow.”

“Bernard – when I’m old enough to marry you, I won’t need their approval. I mean, I really want them to be happy for me when it happens, but the final decision will be mine.”

“Not while you’re younger than 17, baby. To get married now, legally we need their consent.”

“Who said anything about getting married now?”

“You did, Willow. I just proposed to you, and you said yes.”

“But that – that was just a prank. It was an act, right?”

Bernard didn’t reply right away; instead his face began to fill with hurt and confusion.

Willow’s chest became chilled as if she’d swallowed a whole slush drink at once. “Bern. My god. Tell me that you were just joking. There’s no way you were serious.”

“I’m as serious as a heart attack, babe.”

Willow’s heart was racing, and her world seemed shaky and unstable. She recognized fear was taking hold. Face it. “What – how – God, what’s happening? Why would you do this? What for?”

“Because I can’t stand to not have you, Willow. I want you, all the way. And I don’t want to wait 2 or more years. I’m so obsessed with you – you dominate my thoughts. I’ll only get relief if we can be together every day.”

“So … this is about sex??

“That’s part of it. But I’m ready to be married, to share our lives together.”

“And so you actually proposed to me at Denny’s with a vending machine ring.”

“Yes. Spontaneous. I’m following my heart.”

“I really need you to follow your head right now, Bern. You have to know this won’t work! For one, there’s no way Momma and Poppa will agree to it!”

“Well if they don’t, sue them for that emancipation of a minor thing.“

“So you want me to destroy my relationship with my family.”

“Right!” Bernard answered not having fully heard her question. “And then we can go before a JP and get hitched – and voila, we can love each other as fully and as often as we want!”

“Bernard. Where would we live?”

“You could move in with me and my folks. I could convince Mom to allow it, and dad spends most of his time working.”

“How would we earn a living?”

“Well, I could quit school – it’s my senior year and there’s not much left of it anyway. I think I can get a job at the auto shop near MLK Avenue and Decatur. We’ll find a way to survive.”

“And my medical treatments and therapy?”

“Huh … I haven’t thought about that yet … maybe Medicaid?”

“You’ve thought this through? You’re ready right now to commit to me for the rest of your life – a girl, who used to be a boy, who can’t give you natural children?”

“Babe – all of that stuff – can’t we just deal with those problems as they come up? We love each other, and that’s enough to make this work. I’ve found the girl I want to spend the rest of my life with, and I don’t want to wait for that life to start. You … you haven’t changed your mind, have you? Are you saying ‘no’ now, after you said ‘yes’ earlier?”

“Not ‘no’ forever! Just ‘no’ for right now! Why can’t we just be like we are for a while?”

“Baby. I need to be married to you, now. Or as soon as possible. So I’m asking one more time: will you marry me?”

Willow’s eyes burst into tears. “No, Bernard. I can’t marry you now. I won’t do it! You’re not ready. I’m REALLY not ready. I want to date you, do fun things and make out because I really like you. And I love you too! But I’m not ready to commit to marriage yet. Not mentally or emotionally.” She furiously pulled napkins out of the table dispenser, as her eyes were leaking badly.

Bernard’s face looked hollow and limp. “This is my worst nightmare,” he whispered.

“You’re telling me!” Willow sobbed.

“I never dreamed you’d reject me like this. I – I may need some time to figure things out,” said Bernard in a continued whisper.

“Omigod. Bern. Are you … are you breaking up with me?”

“Willow. If I can’t have all of you, I don’t know if I can be around you. It’s … it’s too much. Too much pain. I don’t know. Does that sound like I’m breaking up with you?”

Willow’s crying got harder to control. “Y – yes … yes it does! … Now please … take me h-home.” She jumped out of the booth and ran outside to the car.

“Awww,” said the old man at the counter.

~o~O~o~

The next days were rough for Willow. The first day after the breakup it seemed she cried constantly. Her mother and sister took turns sitting with her, feeding her tissues. Eventually the tears became less frequent, but the anguish gave way to a cold emptiness of spirit; nothing gave her pleasure, nothing diverted her from the hopelessness she now had regarding her life and future. Intellectually she knew there could and would be other romances, but her heart couldn’t see past Bernard. She had not only lost a lover, but her long-time friend.

Julia was a huge help; she committed extra time and energy into helping Willow handle the broken emotions that surfaced. She also coordinated with Bernard to make sure he wouldn’t be attending the same NA meetings as Willow for the next few weeks at least.

Dr. Estrada prescribed an antidepressant, but cautioned that it might take a month or more to “kick in”. Gwen started to see her daughter have short-lived angry outbursts – always followed by apologies, but still unsettling nonetheless.

New Year’s Eve came. Willow prepared to go to bed early; having no boyfriend to kiss at midnight seemed way too depressing to be awake for. Angie was giving her sister a goodnight hug when Willow’s cell rang. The caller ID read “Bernard”. Angie grabbed the device.

“Willow’s phone – but this is Angela speaking. Hello Bernard.”

“Uh, hi Angie – is Willow there?”

“Why yes, she is. I’m glad I could answer your question. Have a good evening!”

“WAIT – wait! Can I talk to her?”

“I don’t see the rush, seeing as it ‘s taken you four days to make a phone call. Four days to work up the courage to apologize or make up, or maybe you had to figure out if you even wanted to make up?”

“Angie – you don’t know all sides of the story –“

“Your side isn’t too hard to figure out. You want full-on sex with my sister and when you can’t get it – when she refuses to marry you AT AGE 15 – you drop her like a hot potato! I’m sure by now you’ve found someone else who doesn’t mind spreading wide open for you whenever you get an itch.”

“Angie, OMG. Can I just talk to her, please? Please!”

Angie looked at her sister. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, “ she mouthed. Willow put her hand up to request the phone.

“Hey, Bern. It’s me.”

“Willow! Willow – I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not calling earlier; sorry for putting you on the spot there at Denny’s – sorry for the harebrained marriage idea. I’m sorry for making you feel that sex was the only thing I needed you for. I felt like your rejection of my proposal was a rejection of ME, so I thought it meant we had to break up.

“I told my sponsor what happened expecting sympathy, but instead he showed me how I had screwed up. I was a fool, Willow. I probably still am a fool; it worries me that I could be so lunk-headed and not see it. So I am probably not done doing stupid shit in my life. I vow to learn from that screw-up, though. I want to see you again. Is there any chance we could get back together?”

“Bern, I forgive you; thanks for apologizing. As far as getting back together: I prayed for you to ask me that for two days straight. But now – I think we need some time apart; I’m too emotionally raw to risk getting hurt again. If we’re meant to be, then you’ll wait for me to heal. Can we talk on the phone again in, say, 3-4 days from now?”

“Willow. Please. I need you.”

“3 to 4 days Bern. Okay?”

**sigh** - “Okay.”

~o~O~o~

January 3rd.

Angie and Willow were having some sister time together on one of the last days before Angies senior year classes resumed. They went to a movie matinee – the latest Lego animated feature (purposely avoiding weepy girls’ fare). Now they were browsing Megabooks, a chain store that dealt with all types of printed and electronic media. In the bean bag chair reading area, Angie perused a gossip mag while Willow read parts of a graphic novel. Then they decided to have a cup of java at one of the booths in the adjoining café.

Angie sipped her latte’ with a little relief – Willow was actually smiling some. It seemed her emotions were under better control; perhaps time does heal all wounds, Angela mused. Suddenly something at the barista counter caught her eye, and she froze at the sight.

Bernard was there, ordering two coffees – one for him and one for an impressive blonde girl at his side. They spoke to each other with smiles and a laugh. The order placed, the couple stood back awaiting their to-go cups.

Angie quickly pulled her eyes back to Willow and asked “so what was the graphic novel about?” Distract, distract! Don’t let her look over there –

It was too late. Willow stared numbly at the happy couple for a few seconds; then pulled her head down to stare at the table. Her body began to tremor just barely. “I want to go over there, to ask what the hell’s going on – but I can’t let him see me cry. Not over him,” she mumbled.

“I’ll go. I’ll give him a piece of my mind and a piece of my boot up his butt!” growled Angela.

“No, sis! Just … just let them leave.”

Both girls sat there silently sipping their drinks. It seemed like it took forever for Bernie and his date to get their order; finally they did, and walked out of the store. Angie waited for a few minutes before speaking. “They should be long gone now. Do you want to leave or do you need some more time?”

Before Willow could answer, a young man forcibly slid into her side of the booth, making her scoot to the wall. He had a buzz cut hairstyle, dark shades, and a sneering smile. He turned to face Willow. “Well, hello there sweets. Remember me?”

Angie, alarmed, kicked the intruder from under the table. “Hey! Beat it, buttface! Get away from my sister, whoever you are!”

“Rodrico Santos,” grumbled Willow. “That’s his name. And yes, he is a buttface.”

“Call me Rico, girl. And I’m a lucky dude. I was drinking my espresso when I spot you sitting over here. I remembered the last time I saw you – at the Java Casa with Bernard. You guys looked like a tight couple. Then I see Mr. B come and leave here with a new chica! So I’m assuming you got dumped, right?”

“Leave me alone, Rico.”

“Have no fear, girl. I got something here that’ll make you feel a lot better.” He produced a small packet of white powder from his pants pocket, and slid it in front of Willow. “Just snort or swallow,” he said.

In the next few seconds a million thoughts went through Willow’s mind.

What is that? Coke? It’d be nice to feel – NO! I’m not giving in to a chemical temptation! This f***** creep, I should scratch his eyes out!! – NO. No. I’m not giving in to anger either. Release the mad. Let it go. Let him be disgusting and a creep. Ask him to leave, and then Angie and I will go home. Crisis averted.

“Use it when you want, sweet ass,” Rico remarked. “You know I got more when you need it. Just call me. How ‘bout you, sister?”

“You better leave us alone, and now!” Angie barked.

“Suit yourself,” he shrugged . He started to leave the booth.

Let him leave. Let him leave. Wait, no. This asshole needs to get taken down a notch.

“Hey, sweetie. Don’t be in such a hurry to go.” The sultry words came from Willow.

Angie was shocked. Rico was surprised, but began to smile really wide.

“Come on. You like me, don’t you?” Willow cooed.

“I like your look, baby. I’d love it like crazy with a little more exposure, you know?”

“I’ll bet you’re packing a huge weapon behind that zipper, huh?”

“Too much for most chicks to handle, baby. You wanna try?”

“Let me tell you what I’m going to do to you – then we’ll see who can handle who.” Willow then leaned over to his ear and began to whisper. Rico’s eyes got wider and wider, and an obvious erection began in his pants.

The buzzhead suddenly stood up, exiting the booth and pulling Willow out so she stood with him. “Let’s go to my crib, babe. Let’s go now.”

Willow reached up to drape her arms around his neck as she snugged her front to his side, lifting up her right leg slightly to rub against his groin. “It’s so good to find a real stud, someone who doesn’t mind that I was born a man.”

“My truck’s outside, and – wait. What. WHAT?”

“Yeah. And I haven’t had surgery. You don’t mind dicks, do you?”

“What the ffff – who the HELL ARE YOU?”

“Why, I’m Willy. Willy Ramos. You know – the guy who ran the drugs op in Montclair High. You wanted to take my place? Wanted me as a – what did you call it – ‘second lieutenant’? I make a pretty good girl, don’t you think? Truth is, I’m just dressing like this until my parents kick me out. Then Willy the Dude is coming back, and I’ll put your second-rate op in the graveyard. Because you’re nothing. You got that? I’m the kingpin around these parts.”

Wait, what? Willow thought. Why did I talk like Willy was coming back??

Rico shook his head as if clearing cobwebs. “Wait – you can’t be Willy. I’ve seen him. You’re too curvy.”

Willow took her big jacket off and snuggled up again to Rico. She showed him the big, unique dragon tattoo on her left upper arm. “Remember this? Only Willy has this tat. You couldn’t see it at Java Casa ‘cause I had a jacket on. Convinced now?”

Rico shook Willow off of him in disgust. “You’re gonna regret this, Willy.” He then stomped out of the café.

Willow laughed out loud so Rico could hear her as he left. “Well, I’ll bet he learned his lesson, huh, Ang?” She then turned to see her sister.

Angela had wet eyes, and a hurt expression on her face. “We’re going home – NOW,” the older sister proclaimed. She got up and ran out of the shop to her car; Willow had to sprint to keep up.

~o~O~o~

To be continued tomorrow.

If you've gotten this far, please leave a comment! Don't make me reach through the screen and tweak your nose!

Thanks for reading!

~o~O~o~

Willow now sat in the living room. It might as well have been called the interrogation room because that’s what was taking place. Willow sat in the middle of the couch; Gwen had pulled a sitting chair up to face her. Standing next to the chair was Angela, arms crossed, face frowning. William had just finished with patients at his satellite office in far east El Paso but was present via video call on the cell Gwen held.

“Is it true, daughter? What Angie said happened at the bookstore coffee shop?”

“Poppa, I was pulling his chain – I was lying to him to get him uptight. I’m not living as Willow just for you to kick me out so I can go back to dealing drugs.”

“So you were lying to him. How can I be sure you’re not lying to us?”

Angie nodded. “What you told that Rico guy – it sure sounded like you meant it, sis. Every word.”

Gwen frowned in concern. “Honey, why did you feel the need to antagonize this boy? If he’s dealing drugs, he could be violent. Why didn’t you just drop it?”

“Did you take, or keep, that little packet of powder he gave you?” William asked.

“No!” cried Willow. “I didn’t take it – didn’t put it into my purse – didn’t slip it into my jacket. See?” She emptied her purse onto the coffee table. She reached for the pockets of her jacket – then realized she didn’t have it on.

Angie noticed. “Oh, sis. Don’t tell me you left your jacket at that cafe’.”

“Can you call and see if they still have it, Ang?”

“Yeah. I’ll go get it for you if they do,” Angela replied, punching her phone keypad.

William’s voice was getting more irate. "You identified yourself as ‘Willy’ to that boy. Do you see yourself as Willow, or are you secretly Willy – a male teenage drug lord? Have we all been living a lie for the last 3 months?”

“Everybody – I was wrong. What I did was stupid. I did it out of anger and aggression, and a sense that I needed to win – that I needed to humiliate this Rico guy. I keep making these huge mistakes. Maybe seeing Bernard with that girl made me more likely to go over the edge this time. But that’s not a good excuse. I’m so sorry. I will submit to whatever punishment you think is necessary.”

William appeared to be in thought. “Gwen, honey; what do you think?”

“I think we go back to the full grounding. No phone, and she stays around one of her parents every waking moment,” Willow’s momma said.

“That’s what I was thinking,” replied William. “And I’ll get some pee from her when I get home, to send to the lab.

“Yes, ma’am; yes sir.” Willow sighed and closed her eyes.

~o~O~o~

Angie arrived back at the Megabooks café. I wonder what happened to that little drug packet Rico slid to Willow. Did she put it in her jacket? I’ll check out the pockets when I pick it up, and if it’s there, I’ll just toss it into the trash; she’s in enough trouble with Mom and Dad already.

She approached the coffee counter and spoke to the . “Hi, I’m Angela Eiken. I called a few minutes ago. You’re holding my sister’s coat for me to pick up. It’s green and gold, kind of metallic.”

A tall barista with a big 5 o’clock shadow heard her and came to the counter. “Yes, I’m the one you spoke to. It’s right under this - wha? Hey, did someone move that coat I put here?”

“Yeah,” said the other barista. He walked up to Angie. “I gave it to that dude who was sitting with you – he said he’d take it to you.”

Stupid idiots! Angie thought as she stomped out of the café. I told them specifically to hold it for ME. Now that Rico guy -

“Hey, girl.” That voice came from “that Rico guy”, sitting in an idling, pimped-out extended-cab Chevy truck parked towards the far end of the parking lot. The truck now moved up to the pavement where Angie stood. “Did Willy lose his coat? I got it right here; I was waiting for him to come back and get it. Is he with you?”

“Sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Drug-pusher. I left her at home. Now give me her jacket.”

“It’s in the back seat. Why don’t you hop in, and talk with me for a while? You’re a nice lookin’ chica.”

“No thanks! Now I’m taking the jacket and leaving.”

Angie opened the rear truck door and grabbed the jacket. Immediately four hands grabbed her from behind and shoved her into the cab.

“I said hop in, bitch. It ain’t polite to turn me down.”

~o~O~o~

Why? Why did I lapse back into “Bill” mode with Rico? Or really – back into “Willy the Drug Dealer” mode? Do I really want to be male deep inside? Or do I do these things because I just want to irritate certain people? One thing’s for sure; when I’m hurt or threatened by someone, I want to hurt them right back. Like revenge is the most important thing. What did Julia tell me? “Revenge is a dish that’s best thrown in the trash.”

Willow continued to sit on the couch in the living room long after the grilling session with her parents had ended. She was trying to manage the jumble of thoughts flooding her brain.

All of my freedoms – lost again. And who knows how long it will take to win them back. Was that episode with Rico this afternoon really that bad? I didn’t hurt anyone but him – and he’s such a sleazeball, he deserves to be hurt. Willow snickered at the memory of Rico realizing that he was being turned on by a “tranny”. He’s so transphobic and bigoted. He deserved what he got. So what’s the big deal – why am I being grounded if it didn’t hurt anyone else besides that lowlife?

“Willow, remember you need to turn your phone over to me,” her Momma said on the intercom. “I’m in the kitchen.”

“Coming, Momma.” Willow dug the cell out of her purse. As she did, it rang; the screen said “Angie”.

“Hey Ang. Did you find my coat?”

“Hey, you piece of shit. Your sister Angie can’t come to the phone. She’s a little tied up, know what I mean?”

Willow froze. That was Rico’s voice. Transmitting from Angie’s cell phone.

“Don’t believe me? Punch the video call button on your phone,” Rico continued.

She did. The screen showed Rico sitting in the front seat of a car, or truck; sitting in the back was a big guy with a bandana hiding all but his eyes. Next to him was a teenage girl with her hands pulled behind her back, and bandanas wrapped around her head – one as a gag, the other as a blindfold. Even with all of that, the girl was clearly Willow’s sister.

“Rico! Let her go! If you hurt her, I’ll –“

“You’ll do what? Seduce me again? No, let me tell you what you’ll do. I don’t want your ugly piece of trash sister. I want you. You need to be taught a lesson. So we’re going to do an exchange: You, for your sister. Come down to the south side, to the intersection of Uvalde and Challo; walk down the alleyway between the two abandoned buildings on the northwest corner. I’ll be there with your sis and some friends of mine, ‘kay? Just you, no one else. No policia either, comprende? Or your sister gets hurt. She says she’s a virgin; one of my amigos here really wants to pop her cherry, make her all preggy. I can’t hold him back forever. You got twenty minutes. Drive fast. Bye-bye now.” The screen went blank.

Willow furiously tried to call back, but there was no answer; finally it rolled over to Angie’s voicemail. “Rico, I can’t drive! I’m only 15 – I don’t have a license or car!” she screamed, knowing that Rico wouldn’t check that message.

Willow realized with horror - her actions earlier today had now indeed hurt someone she cared for.

God help! What do I do? Police? No – Rico will rape Angie. Mom? Dad? I’ve got 19 minutes now! Who can I –

She frantically opened her phone to favorites and punched a name.

“Hey, Willow. Can I call you back? I'm - ”

“BERNARD! GET IN YOUR CAR AND COME TO MY HOUSE TO GET ME! NOW, PLEASE!”

“Uh, Willow – right now I’m with someon-“

“I KNOW – YOU’RE WITH A BLONDE GIRL. I DON’T CARE. BERNARD, RICARDO SANTOS HAS KIDNAPPED ANGIE AND I’VE GOT BARELY 18 MINUTES TO GET TO HER AND SAVE HER! I NEED A RIDE, AND A FRIEND. I’LL NEVER MESS WITH YOUR PERSONAL LIFE AGAIN, I’LL NEVER ASK FOR ANOTHER FAVOR. PLEASE, BERNARD. PLEASE!”

There were 5 seconds of silence. Then:

“I’m on my way.”

Willow hung up and ran into the bedroom wing, headed to her Grandpa’s room. She turned the lights on; Grandpa was still in bed, and the lights on didn’t seem to wake him right now. She headed to the box that held his Vietnam memorabilia. Taking out the two dummy grenades, she looked for a place to put them.

Damn – I don’t have my coat!

She looked around the room; she saw Grandpa had on his green Sergeant First Class jacket. Willow quickly slid him out of it and donned it; it nearly swallowed the girl, it was so oversized for her. She jammed the grenades into the pockets and took off for the garage. In there, she grabbed a big camping spotlight that hung on the wall shelves. Now Willow ran for the front door. She reached the entryway at the same time her Momma did.

“Willow! What was with all the yelling? Why do you have Dad’s army jacket on?”

Willow was at the keypad, punching the code for the gate to open and stay open. She grabbed the front doorknob and turned to face Gwen.

“Momma, I’m about to disobey you. It’s because Angie is in trouble. I have to go get her, and you can’t be there – neither can the police. I love you.”

“Willow, stop. Let me help-“

“MOMMA! There’s no time!”

“Willow, if you leave, I’m warning you - I’ll call 911 and we’ll track you–“

“No, you won’t,” said the girl as she dropped her phone on the floor. She then took off on foot, running toward the front gate. As she ran in the fading daylight, she saw Bernard’s El Camino drive up and through the entry.

Her mother ran to the front drive; she saw the silhouette of her daughter enter a car. It screeched on the asphalt as it jackrabbited back out of the estate grounds. Gwen’s stomach was in knots; something extremely horrible was happening, and she didn’t know what it was or what to do. Helplessness overtook her – until she realized she had one more thing she could do. She opened her cell phone and touched a number she’d recently put into its digital phonebook.

~o~O~o~

“Bernard! 9 minutes - we won’t get there in time!”

“Yes we will. Hang on – I’m gonna take some risks here.”

They zoomed through a red light barely missing a FedEx van; finally they reached the interstate. Bernard floored the accelerator and passed cars doing 70 mph as if they were parked. He reached the Uvalde exit and suddenly they were a block from the meeting alley.

“Okay Bernard. Remember, no matter what happens, you get Angie out of here. Even if it means leaving me behind. Get her out of here and back home safe.”

“Willow. You know he’s not going to let Angie go, right? You go in there and he’s got you both – you can’t trust him!”

“I’m not trusting him; I’m trusting you. Here’s the plan. Watch when I enter the alleyway; then wait 60 seconds, and …”

~o~O~o~

Willow ran down Uvalde street to the Challo intersection, a poorly lit and poorly populated area; if it could speak, it would have said “beware, all those who enter.” She found the alley she needed. There was a split second of hesitation as she turned into the blackened sliver of street; it was so dark, she could hardly see. Then she intrepidly ran in.

“Rico! I’m here. Show yourself! Give me my sister!”

Twenty feet in front of her, dark human forms emerged from the walls of the alley. One of them clicked a flashlight on, and Willow squinted as it shone in her face.

“Two can play that game, jerk,” she cried, as she clicked on the big camping spotlight from the garage. The crevasse was now illuminated, and Willow saw Rico, two of his amigos/goons, and - Angie. She was bound only by the mouth gag and one of the goons who stood behind her holding her arms.

“Let her go, Rico. Let her go and you can have me.”

“Change in plans, freak. We keeping both of you.” Rico extracted a small pistol from the back of his trousers; he wiggled it as he held it to his shoulder.

“I got no gun; I got something better,” replied Willow as she put the spotlight on the ground and pulled both grenades out of the pockets of the army jacket. Using her mouth, she pulled both pins out while holding the handles down. “In this narrow space, these take us all out.”

“Shit, dude,” one of Rico’s accomplices gasped. “Grenades, dude! Where’d she find-”

“My contacts,” Willow barked. “They have shit you guys can’t even imagine. I had these tucked away just for a time like this. Angie, walk over to me.”

The flunky holding Angie let go, and the freed sister walked shakily but rapidly to Willow’s side. “Did they violate you?” Willow muttered. Angie shook her head.

“We’re going to back out of here. You guys take one step and I throw ‘em.” Willow lay the camp spotlight on the ground with the beam still shining in the hood’s faces. She began to walk backwards with Angie, all the while holding the grenades in front of her.

Rico’s buds still looked spooked by the hand bombs, but Rico was angry and suspicious. “There’s no way those are real!” he yelled.

“You want to find out the hard way, asshole?” Willow yelled, still walking backwards. Bernard, where are you?

Rico suddenly pointed the gun at Willow. “Stop, bitch!”

Immediately the bright lights of an auto turned on from behind the three hoods. It had crept down the backstreet from the other end undetected, idling in DRIVE. Now the engine gunned and it rocketed towards the men.

Rico’s two buddies screamed; one flattened himself against a wall, as did Rico. The car, an El Camino, barely grazed them as it passed by. The last thug wasn’t so lucky; he got clipped by the front bumper and hit the pavement along the opposite wall of the alley. Luckily for him, the wheels didn’t run over him. The car kept going towards the other opening of the alley, where two girls now waited. Rico already was running down that way to try to get them.

The Camino’s tailgate had been lowered previously. “Get in!” Willow yelled at her sister, shoving her into the bed of the car/truck. Then Willow jumped in. “Go go go, Bern!” she screamed through the back glass.

Bernard gunned the engine as both girls held on in the bed. A successful escape. That is, it would have been if the left rear tire hadn’t hit an unseeable pothole. The Camino bounced heavily, throwing the two girls into the air. Angie came back down in the bed. Willow glanced off the left rim of the bed and onto the asphalt.

Bernard hit the brakes when he realized what had happened. He stuck his head out of the driver side window and looked back. “WILLOW!” he bellowed. He saw he was 30 feet ahead of her.

She was lying in the road, still conscious but stunned. Rico ran up to where she was; his pistol was pointed at the El Camino, though. He fired two shots at it; both hit metal, but none hit flesh.

“Willow!” screamed Angela.

“Bernard! You’ve got Angie! GO! GO-GO-GO!!” yelled Willow.

“Say goodbye to your ugly ass sister,” sneered Rico as he took careful aim at Angie. But Willow rolled to her side and kicked him in the knee. Losing his balance, the bullet that left his gun went into the sky.

“WILLOW, GET UP!” yelled Bernard as he started to turn the car back towards her.

Rico was on hands and knees, quickly rising up from his fall. He resumed shooting wildly at Angie and Bernard. Willow grabbed his leg and twisted her body, taking him down once more.

“BERNARD, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, GO-GO-GO!!”

The El Camino hesitated for a second, then burned rubber as it took off, with Angie holding on for dear life in the back.

“Bernard! You left her behind! Damn you! Damn you to hell!” Angie cried in the car’s bed.

“Oh god … Willow. Willow!” Bernard wept as he sped away.

~o~O~o~

“Where the hell have you taken me?”

In the dark street after the attempted rescue, Willow had been blindfolded with her wrists tied behind her. She then was put in the back of some vehicle, and transported at high speeds over bumpy roads to a new location. Now she walked carefully to avoid stumbling, unable to see and being pushed and kicked as she stepped.

“Quiet, tranny faggot piece of shit,” one of Rico’s goons said. Willow noticed how much braver these guys sounded when they weren’t facing fake grenades and an El Camino.

“Stop. Now turn around.” Willow felt rough hands grab her shoulders and twist her so suddenly that she almost fell. “Stay still; if you kick me I will cut you, freako.” That was Rico’s voice, she realized. Someone grabbed the collar of her grandpa’s army jacket and yanked it off of her. Now hands fumbled with the top button and zipper of her jeans. In short order, both her pants and panties were pulled down to her ankles.

Her heart beat like a triphammer, and a numb sensation encompassed her mouth and fingers. That’s fear, she thought. Face it, Willow. Feel it, but keep walking through it.

“Damn, that ass,” one voice said. “That ain’t no man’s ass.”

“Look at his junk, stupido,” barked Rico. “He’s a man – for now.”

“Sorry, nothing to f*** here,” said Willow. “No front door. Now, if any of you is gay, then … ?”

“Yeah, Emilio. You can have him – you were admiring his ass.”

“Man, I ain’t no homo!”

“Hey assholes,” Rico’s voice chastised, “stop messing around and let’s do this.”

Now Willow was pushed backwards – her buttocks hit an edge of a counter or table. The pushing continued until she was lying back on a hard, flat surface.

“Everybody ready? Here goes,” she heard Rico say. Then her blindfold was ripped off. She blinked her eyes to take in her surroundings.

She was lying flat on a table or something, on her back. Her arms were held by someone standing behind her head, and another guy stood at her feet holding her legs down. All present wore bandanas over their faces and scalps, except for Rico. A dim overhead light flickered and showed that they were in a small room that opened into another room, possibly a kitchen.

“So I’m on a dinner table. Does that mean one of you is gonna be eating me out?” snarked Willow.

“SHUT THE F*** UP, FAG!” The guy holding her hands slugged her in the face.

“No hits to the head, dummy! I want him awake for this!” ordered Rico, who stood at Willow’s left.

“She’s seriously pissing me off,” said the hitter.

“Don’t call him ‘she’. Say ‘him’ or ‘it’.” Now Rico spoke to his captive on the table. “I bet you thought I was just gonna off you, huh?”

“If you’re going to, stop wasting time and do it,” snapped Willow.

“Nope. That’s too easy for you. You die saving your sister, and then you’re this famous tranny martyr, a hero, while I have to leave town to avoid a murder rap. No, see. I want you to suffer. That’s why I brought in a specialist here.” Rico pointed across the table; there was another person with a bandana- wrapped face there, starting an intravenous line in her right arm.

“This dude is with the Southside Lobos. I’m gonna be partnering with them once you’re out of the way. This, tonight, is gonna count as my initiation into their gang. Through me, they’ll have a way into North Montanas – I’ll be the drug king of the north. But I couldn’t do it with everyone waiting for Willy the Dude to come back. So I gotta make sure you ain’t coming back. ‘Cause the Lobos are gonna –“

“HMM – MMT,” growled the specialist. He’d gotten the IV in, and now he glared angrily at Rico, pulling his hand across his mouth bandana in a “zip it!” gesture.

“So you’re not gonna kill me, but I’ll be off the streets? What, you gonna keep me as a prisoner?”

“No.” Rico began to grin, then smile, then laugh out loud. “Willy, I’m gonna de-nut you.”

Willow’s face showed confusion at first, then shock as she comprehended what he’d said.

Rico clarified. “Castration. I’m gonna neuter you, you ugly dog. Gonna make you a eunuch. And I’m gonna keep your dead cojones in a jar in my crib; everyone will know I’m the badass that made Willy into a Wilma. And no chica can run a Lobo drug op, see? You won’t be able to be a man again. You gonna remember me every time you wanna get a hard-on or make kids, and realize you can’t.”

“J – Joke’s on you, Rico,” said Willow, trying fiercely to put on a brave face. “See, I was lying before. I’ve been living like a girl because I really, really want to be a girl. So I was going to have this done eventually anyway.”

“Now I know you lying,” Rico snorted. “You’re scared to death. And you should be, because we’re not gonna use any numbing juice. You’re gonna feel every cut of the knife, every stitch. That’s my present to you, you sorry – hey!”

Rico looked at the specialist, who was attaching a small syringe of yellow fluid to the IV port. “Hey bro, what is that? Valium?” asked the future North Montanas drug king. “I want him awake when you cut his ballsack open!”

The specialist peered at Rico with disdain. “I’ll only use it if you dipshits can’t hold him still. I ain’t gonna have him bleeding all over me,” he said in a gravelly, raspy tone.

Willows mind clicked with recognition. “Hey! I know that voice! You’re the tech from North Montanas Vet Clinic!”

The “specialist’s” eyes suddenly widened in panic. He grabbed the syringe of Valium and pushed it rapidly into the IV line. Within seconds Willow felt fuzzy. “No, no,” she croaked, desperately trying to stay awake. The last thing she heard before unconsciousness was a sharp knocking on the door to the room.

~o~O~o~

To be continued tomorrow in the final, concluding Part 12.

If you've made it this far, please leave a comment! Don't make me reach through the screen and tweak your nose!

Thanks for reading!

~o~O~o~

As I have been saying all along, this story was written fully before I started to post it. The full length was 12 parts (earlier I had said 13, but I miscounted). However, as I have gone along, more has been added to Willow's story. So much, in fact, that part 12 would have to be twice as long as the other parts to bring Willow's story to a conclusion. That seems unwieldy ... so, I'm now announcing that there WILL be a Part 13 tomorrow. And I'm certain that will be all. Pretty certain. We'll see. Sorry for the confusion, if I caused any. Now, on with today's episode!

~o~O~o~

The person in bed 204 was waking up. The eyes opened to a fuzzy glare of light; then focused with more blinking. A quick turn of the head showed that this was a hospital room; there was a heart monitor with lines and numbers, and an IV pole with clear liquid dripping down a tube and into the person’s arm.

The patient tried to sit up and felt pain all over, as if they had been beaten up in a fight or a car wreck. Different visages flooded the mind of this person; they were confused about … well, about everything.

A female in blue scrubs walked into the room. “Well, look who decided to wake up,” she said with a smile. “Good morning, sleepyhead. Who are you?”

The person fretted, further perplexed. “What – what kind of question is that? I’m a patient, in a hospital, and you look like a nurse – don’t you know who I am?”

“No, I don’t,” the nurse answered cheerily. “I’m not even sure if you’re male, or female, or maybe gender fluid. Your groin anatomy is male, but so much more of your body is female. Who do you see yourself as?”

“This is crazy. I need to know who I am! I’m not just who I “see myself as”, okay?”

“Oh, you absolutely are. You are who you see yourself as. Now – who do you see here?“ The nurse held a face mirror up to the patient.

The reflection showed a young head with natural brown hair that perhaps needed a slight trim to shore up some split ends. The face seemed familiar, yet needed some work, or – perhaps makeup? – to look right. The cheeks were rounded but not chubby; the eyes were brown, and the earlobes had obviously been pierced, though no earrings were currently present. As the patient contemplated, a name formed in the mind and worked it’s way out of the mouth.

“Willow. I’m Willow. Willow Ramos.”

“Well hello then, Willow. Are you a boy, or girl, or…?”

“I’m a transgender female. Pre-op. Going through my life test. But … I’m a young woman, definitely.”

“And so you are,” spoke a smooth-voiced male entering the room. “Hello Willow.”

“Dr. Estrada! Hey – what’s going on?”

“You still may be fuzzy about what happened yesterday; it was quite a full one for you,” said the doc. “You were sedated against your will; actually, you were overdosed on a sedative, and we’ve had you here to monitor you as your body slept it off.”

“Did – did those guys … cut me?”

“No. The police arrived just as they gave you the sedation.”

“Was I damaged by the overdose?”

“No, thank god. Help arrived just after you got the drug, so we were able to manage it. And when it became evident that you were going to likely wake up this morning, I decided to do an experiment of sorts with you. Don’t worry, not a drug or surgical trial – more of a psychological observation.”

“O – okay … “ stammered Willow, still unsure as to what he meant.

“See, some of your recent words and behavior have caused your family to wonder if you really see yourself as female, or if you were a male masquerading as a girl to achieve some other goal. As you awoke out of the fog of sedation, I had a unique opportunity to find out who you really see yourself as. I needed someone to ask you these questions – someone you’d never seen before, like Nurse Jennings here.”

“You can call me Alice, honey,” inserted the nurse.

Estrada resumed his explanation. “Knowing you really identify as Willow keeps us on solid ground as you proceed with your transition. Alice, could you tell Willow’s family they can come in now?”

In the next minute, they entered. Gwen and Angie ran straight to her, hugging and kissing her through their tears. William stood behind them, smiling at the happy sight. Malachi stood by him, munching on an apple.

“Girls. Sheesh. Am I right, Dad?” Mal said with a full mouth.

“Thank God for ‘em, Mal. You’ll appreciate this as you get older,” William replied.

“Doctor,” Gwen sniffed as she turned to Estrada, “what did you find out?”

“She sees herself as Willow, a female. She is truly your daughter.”

“Oh Willow, my little girl,” Gwen breathed as she turned back. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Momma,” Willow blubbered. “And you, Angie.”

“The cops came just in time,” Angie reported. “Those hoodlums didn’t get a chance to cut you.”

Willow remembered more and more about last night with each second. “How did the police find me so fast?”

“You wore your Grandpa’s coat,” Gwen smiled. “Remember how I told you I was going to get him a GPS tracker for him, one that had a ten mile radius? I did get it, but he wouldn’t keep it on as a neck chain; he kept removing it. He always wears his coat. So I slipped it inside his jacket lining and sewed it in place. When you left last night, I saw you were wearing the jacket, so I activated the locator service. They were able to find you, and sent the police. I just had to emphasize that they weren’t looking for a senior citizen, but a young girl in deep trouble.”

Angie jumped in the conversation. “I called Mom on Bernard’s phone as soon as we got to a place where I could jump into the front seat. She relayed the info on who and what went down to the police. El Paso DEA* got involved, too – evidently Rico’s been on their radar ‘cause he can’t keep his mouth shut. So when the law arrived they were loaded for bear.”

“Are you okay, Angie? Is Bernard? All those gunshots fired at you!”

“It appears Rico can’t hit the broad side of a barn. We’re all OK. Bernard’s gonna come see you a little later; we wanted this time with you as just family. I love you, sis,” said Angie as she kissed Willow’s cheek.

“Ahem. Willow,” said William, “Your mom and I need to talk to you – about Bernard, and your grounding. We aren’t going to revert to the full restrictions you had as Bill; we changed our mind about that. But we do feel the need to address you and your friend. It’s lousy timing, I know, but we need to do this before he gets here.”

*Drug Enforcement Administration

~o~O~o~

That afternoon Bernard visited Willow; Gwen stepped out so they could talk alone.

“Willow – I’m so glad you’re alright. And –“ Bernard had to stop talking as he breathed slowly, and his face screwed into a knot. Tears began spilling down his cheeks; Willow had never seen Bernard cry before.

“Bern – what’s wrong?”

“I,” – he choked, then tried once more. “I left - I left you there!”

Willow wrapped her arms around his neck, and pulled his sobbing face to her shoulder. “You did just what I asked you to. You saved my sister. There was no way you could have come back without getting Angie and yourself shot. So I thank God that you left. You’re my hero, Bernard.”

“And you’re mine, Willow. You’re so brave; you have no fear. And you always know what to do. Except for that stupid pothole, your plan went perfect.”

Willow shook her head. “I feel fear all the time, Bern. I just face it and keep walking through it. It didn’t come naturally; I’ve had to learn how.”

They held each other silently for a long time.

Willow cleared her throat. “Ah, Bern. Who was that blonde? You know, from yesterday?”

“She’s a girl in my geometry class. I’m sorry about that too, Willow. You told me you didn’t want to talk about us for 3-4 more days; I guess I took that as we were taking a ‘break’. Now looking back, I should have made sure it was OK with you before I took her for coffee. I’m such a screw-up.”

“Oh, let me tell you what a screw-up is. It’s announcing to a whole coffee shop that you’re transgender – and adding little details, like I’m pre-op and still have a penis. It’s taking a criminal like Rico and embarrassing him to the point that he kidnaps your sister and tries to mutilate you. THAT’S a screw-up.”

“Yeah, I heard Rico planned to remove your ‘nads without anesthesia. But aren’t you planning on getting that done anyway, just with numbing?”

“Yes I am, Bern. I’m planning to have intercourse one day, too. But NOT have it FORCED on me – that would be rape! Same principle applies with the testicle removal.”

“Yeah, I see that. Of course,” Bernard nodded.

“Um. Since I brought up the sex subject,” stammered Willow. “I know you felt like you needed me ‘all the way’ – that’s the biggest reason behind your proposal last week. Now that you’re dating other girls, you probably will want to sleep with them at some point, right? So if – ”

“Willow, I don’t have to-“

“Bern. This is tough enough for me to do without interruptions, okay?” Willow took a deep breath and slowly exhaled it. “I’m giving you permission. Oh poop; I’m encouraging you, okay? Date other women. Make love to them if you need to. If you fall in love and want to marry one of them, then do so. I’ll come to your wedding and cheer for you. But if the summer hits and you want to start to date me again, then we’ll see what happens. After all, I’ll be dating around too … if someone asks me out, that is.”

“The summer. What day in the summer?” Bernard quizzically asked.

“The day after Montclair High lets out. Didn’t Poppa tell you that?”

“He may have; I don’t specifically remember all the details, I was so surprised that he was grounding us.”

“It wasn’t just him, Bernard. Earlier this morning, Dr. Estrada, Momma, Poppa, and even my sponsor Julia had a big pow-wow about the turmoil we’ve had involving our romance – the emotions, the break-up, and my acting out afterwards, little anger fits, and that stupid stunt I pulled at the coffee shop. So this ‘grounding’ is from all of them. What do you remember about what Poppa said?”

“Willow, he started out by saying how much he appreciated my role as your friend, and he thanked me for helping to save Angie. Then he emphasized that he wanted our good friendship to continue. Just not the romance. He wanted that to stop, or at least be on ‘hold’, for the whole spring semester – while you continued to work on your behavior and emotional issues. Evidently they hope that if you and I are still mutually “unattached” by the end of school, we’ll will be mature enough to handle a romance together.”

“Yes. That’s what they told me. They’ll still allow me to use my phone and to go out with Angie or even Julia; heck, you and I can even still meet at NA meetings, or in a group afterwards for coffee. We just can’t be alone, as in a date. How do you feel about that, Bern?”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter how I feel about it; that’s what’s gonna happen. You’re still a minor and have to do what they say.”

Willow fretted. “No, Bern. How do you feel about us still being friends but dating other people?”

“Well I’m not thrilled about it. Taking Sandy out – that’s her name, the blonde girl – was a substitute. I’d still rather date you.”

“And I, you,” she replied. “But I found that the one thing I have to have from you – HAVE to have it – is your friendship. Losing you as a lover for the past week was really lousy. Losing you as a friend – no talking, no texting – was DEVASTATING. I won’t commit to a romance with you if it means I could lose my friend. You promised me once that we would always be best buds. I’m holding you to that, Bern – no matter who you date, who you make love to, or who you marry. Can you handle that? Will you still be my best bud this semester?”

Bernard looked directly into Willow’s eyes. A slow but assured smile developed on his face. “Yes, Willow. Best buds. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

They hugged tight, then Willow kissed him on the cheek followed by a whisper in his ear. “So date Sandy, or whoever. Sow some wild oats. But if we’re both unattached by June 5th, I want dinner and a movie, OK?”

“Ahem,” said Gwen at the door to the room. “Twenty minutes is up. I’m coming back in.”

Bernard rose to leave. “I’ll text you later, Willow.”

“I’ll be waiting for it, Bern. My hero.”

~o~O~o~

It was now early May.

Willow was in her room, finishing up her homeschooling work for the day. A knock came on her door.

“Hey sis,” said Angela. “Can I come in?”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“You know my senior prom is in 3 weeks, right? Joey’s asked me to it, and I’m getting my dress tomorrow.”

Willow smiled. “You and Joey are hitting it off. It’s been, what, a month since your first date?”

“Yeah.” Angie now frowned. “And it’s been over four months since your last one – the Denny’s date with Bernard. He’s still dating that Sandy girl. I wish you could date other people!”

“I can, Ang; I just don’t have a chance to meet boys I could date. Most of the guys at the NA meetings are older, like mid-20’s or more, and they see me as jailbait since I’m still 15. If I actually attended high school I’m sure it would be different.”

“Well, here’s the deal sis. I’m going to prom, and I want to experience it with my best girlfriend – you. Even though you’re technically a sophomore, you could go if a senior asked you.”

“There’s the rub, as Shakespeare would say,” Willow smiled. “From my English lit readings.”

“I found a way around ‘the rub’, Willow. I submitted your name to Action 6 News; they have a program called Positive PromPosals. It’s where youth leaders in the community volunteer to go to the prom with disadvantaged teens.”

“Angie! I’m trans, not disabled.”

“You still fit the profile.”

“Ang – no. I don’t want to be someone’s ‘pity date.’ I’ll pass.”

“Are you suuuuure?” Angie replied with a half-grin. “Look at the stud who volunteered for you!” She showed Willow a picture on her cell.

“It doesn’t matter who – oh. Oh my,” stammered a now-flustered Willow. “Who is that big blonde hunk of beefcake?”

“His name’s Adrian. Adrian Brody. He goes to Truman High, and he’s everything a dream date should be – quarterback, wealthy family, and really really cut. You can see his six-pack through that shirt.”

“Wow. It’s tempting … but a little scary. If Action 6 broadcasts my story, then everyone there – all my peers – will know I’m trans.”

“Sis, most of the school knows anyway. Word got out after that coffee shop fiasco with Rico. I want to experience prom with you! If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for me!”

The next day, Adrian Brody drove up to Willow’s house and gave her a bouquet of flowers as he went down on one knee and asked her to the Montclair High prom. Action 6 News was there to document the event. Willow was shaking, but also beaming a huge smile.

~o~O~o~

3 weeks later.

Willow sat in front of her bedroom mirror, putting finishing touches on her hair and makeup. Angela walked in to check on her.

“How’s it coming, little sister?”

“This is crazy,” Willow flustered. “I’ve been kidnapped, nearly mutilated, and had a breakup – all in the last 6 months. Survived them all. And yet tonight I can’t get calm; I’m tingling all over!”

Angie laughed. “It’s your first prom. You’re supposed to be nervous!”

Willow stood back and took in her look. She wore a red trumpet /mermaid dress with an off-the-shoulder sweep; the hem didn’t quite hit the floor in her heels, which was better for dancing. The 4 inch red heels were gorgeous, and walking in them had finally become second nature after weeks of practice. Dancing was a little more challenging, but she felt confident enough. Her bob wig was in the closet; now she sported extensions to her natural brown hair, and her long straight hairstyle looked as if it was totally all her. Zirconium teardrop earrings and a thin neck chain with a cross pendant were the perfect little accessories, enhancing the dress without drawing attention from it.

As she looked, Angie’s hands came from behind and grabbed her waist. “OMG, sis; your lower curves are so amazing in this dress!”

“Really? Do you think it shows off my J.Lo butt?”

“Oh yes. You’ve got that guitar shape that guys love. And, you’re finally getting your boobies!” she remarked as she tapped the A cup prominences on Willow’s chest. “And the makeover Elle did on your face this afternoon – WOW.”

“Yeah, I thought that my makeup skills had gotten pretty good. Having a pro work on me … it shows I’ve got a long way to go. Look at these smoky eyes!” Willow turned to the side and gave the mirror a seductive, ‘come hither’ look.

“So … the pop thing to do on prom night is to “go all the way” after the dance is over; half my virgin friends are planning on losing it tonight,” said Angie.

“Well you know my thoughts on that, for me at least,” replied Willow. “I don’t have a front door yet, and my back door is locked and bolted shut, thank you very much. Now, handiwork? I’m open to that. Oral? Um … I don’t know, yet. What about you, Ang?”

“Joey has been such a gentleman. But I know he’d like sex. He may want us to go all the way tonight; I’m so worried about disappointing him. I wanted to remain a virgin until I at least got engaged; but it seems like boys these days won’t even consider a long term relationship – much less an engagement – without sex.”

“Angie – do YOU want to have sex tonight?”

“All the way? I’d rather not, for the reasons I just stated. I’d be into heavy petting, like you and Bernard did on your first date.”

“Then Ang, let him know. Joey seems super honorable. I bet he’ll respect your wishes. Whatever you do, DON’T have sex just for fear you’ll lose your guy. That ignores what you want, and you’re worth more than that.”

“Thanks, Willow. I needed to hear that.”

“Now, Angela; let’s take a look at you!”

Angie wore her hair up in a bouffant style with ringlets coming down around her ears. Her dress was a white A-line princess tulle mini dress with a satin sash; the pulled-in waist emphasized her C-cup breasts and her attractive legs lusciously emerged from under the high cut minidress hem. Her heels were white satin.

“Hot you are, big sis,” admired Willow. “Hot-hot-hot! Such a lucky boy, your date is!”

~o~O~o~

In front of the Eiken house, a stretch Humvee limousine pulled up; two young men in tuxedos emerged from it.

“Hey Adrian; thanks for letting me share the ride with you. What an awesome limo!”

“No problem, Joey; that’s the way Willow wished it. These sisters wanted a double date, anyway. And Channel 6 paid for it, so why not?” Adrian rang the doorbell.

“Come in, gentlemen,” said William Eiken.

As he said that, the intercom to the estate gate buzzed. “Hello? This is the Action News 6 van. We’re here to interview Willow and Adrian. Can we come in?”

“Sure.” William buzzed them in.

“Girls – your prom dates are here, and the limo’s waiting outside,” said William into the indoor intercom. “And Willow, the local news is here as they promised.”

Willow emerged from her room and rushed in hurried high heel steps to the front entry. “Hey Joey, Angie will be out in just a few minutes – oh my! Adrian! Look at you!”

He stood there in a black tux with tails, cummerbund and a red bow tie; his mustache was professionally trimmed, as was his hair. Willow smiled. “You, sir, pull off this classic look immaculately. Bravo!”

“Willow, in that dress, you’re a movie star; no, a goddess. You’re classy, sexy, sophisticated and – I have to say this – Oooo girl, dat ass!”

“Don’t talk like a gangsta, Adrian. I don’t like gangstas,” Willow remarked with pursed lips. She then turned to the other young man standing in the foyer.

“Joey. Wait ‘til you see your date. Angie’s dress is a knockout. If you guys think I’m sexy – hold on to your hat!”

~o~O~o~

Gwen excitedly snapped pictures of the four teens before they left for prom in the limo. Action 6 News interviewed Adrian and Willow; he said he was happy to take her to the prom, and she said she was honored that he asked. Willliam could tell that both of his daughters were thrilled to be attending this formal affair together as sisters and close friends.

Attendance at the prom was a significant social breakthrough for Willow. Word had indeed spread about Bill Ramos being a trans girl now, and everyone craned to see her as she made her entrance. Those who remembered Willy the Dude from two years prior were especially amazed; Willow showed little resemblance to that person, save for the unique dragon tat on her right arm. Socially, this was a triumph for her. Romantically, it could have been better; her date seemed intent on making the rounds with some other friends he had at Montclair High, often leaving Willow alone as he did so.

One such time late into the prom, Willow sat by herself at a table drinking some punch. Angela drifted over from the dance floor and sat down with her.

“Joey’s done for the night. His poor feet are suffering in those dress shoes. Why are you here all alone, sis?”

“I’m just taking it all in. I’m at a prom, as a sophomore no less. This is awesome!”

“But you’re sitting. Are you tired of dancing?”

“Oh no. I could go hours more. But once the dances became slow – you know, like where the couples hold each other – Adrian danced with anyone but me. I’m trying to convince myself that me being trans isn’t the reason, but it’s hard to ignore. See him out there with that strawberry blonde? That’s their second slow number together.”

“Maybe if the news cameras were still around, he’d be with you flashing that All – American smile,” Angie smirked.

“Excuse me, ma’am. May I have the honor of this dance?”

Both sisters turned around. There stood Bernard, extending his hand to Willow.

“Why yes, kind sir,” accepted Willow. She was led onto the floor as Angie clapped and cheered.

Willow and Bernard danced the next three dances, talking the whole time.

“Where’s Sandy, Bernard?”

“She’s had enough dancing and is cooling her heels over at the dance troupe clique table. So I told her I’d promised at least two dances with you, and came over to make good.”

Willow smirked. “You never promised me two dances.”

“Nope,” replied Bern. “I promised myself that I’d save two dances for you. We may be still banned from dating, but this is a dance not a formal date, right?”

“Bernard,” Willow whispered, “Sandy is gorgeous. Yet you texted me that you’re considering breaking up with her. Why? Does she refuse to make love to you?” Willow held her breath. She’d purposely avoided asking Bern that in their texting; but she had to know why.

He sighed. “Okay, Willow. I’ll tell you, just so we can drop the subject. No, she doesn’t refuse. And yes, we’ve made love on a number of occasions. It’s just; I dunno, it’s missing something.”

“She’s stunning! What could be missing?”

“Willow – I’m just not in love with her. I like her; she’s a great date, and fantastic arm candy at a dance like this. I ought to be head over heels. But someone else has my heart. And I think you know who I’m talking about.”

“Bern. I gave you your heart back when I said we should date around!”

“And I tried to take it back, okay? Things would be much easier if I could control who my heart chooses! But I can’t. It’s chosen you. I’d give up on thoughts of us if I knew you were in love with someone else. But our texts tell me you’re not.”

“Bernard. June 5th is a month away still. And when it comes, I still won’t be able to make love to you legally; I’ll be 14 months away from my 17th birthday. And making love is a must with you, isn’t it?”

Bernard smiled as he adjusted his step to the slow waltz now playing. “I think I’ve matured some, Willow. I believe I can be patient enough to wait for you, as long as we can kiss and hug and occasionally do the heavier petting.”

“Omigod, Bern. Tell me I’m not dreaming. Are we both going to be unattached when June 5th comes around?”

“It looks like it. Could I take you out for dinner and a movie that night? My Pop upgraded my allowance two months ago.”

“I’ll clear it with Momma and Poppa. Well, that will be nice. A date. A date with my good friend Bernard.” Willow couldn’t stop what happened next; she started bouncing up and down on her toes, and squealed. “EEEEEEEEEEEE!!!”

~o~O~o~

At the end of the night, Joey and Angie shared sweet kisses at the front porch. Adrian dutifully gave Willow a quick peck before heading back into the limo. As their dates left, the two sisters dished the details to their mother. Later in Willow’s room, she and Angie compared mental notes. Finally exhausted, the two girls retired to their beds.

Willow was about to drift to sleep when she got a text.

Hey Willow

Hey my good friend Bernard

I want to tell u - u were so pretty. Felt like a king dancing w/u

I M sooo happy about our dancing tonite and our upcoming date!

Willow – were U happy with everything else tonite?

With the prom? YES!! Music and décor off the charts. Felt so free dancing in public with everyone around treating me like a regular girl. Acceptance amazing. And limo was awesome!

Well u pass perfectly – that helps with acceptance. And ur attitude is so positive – u don’t come off strange or weird at all.

Hey Bernard guess what

What

MOMMA’S GONNA LET ME ATTEND MONTCLAIR HIGH NEXT FALL! No more homeschooling all alone! Yaay! She and Poppa told me tonite!

Awesome dudette!

Hey subject change; did u hear about Rico Santos?

No – still in jail rite?

Rumor is he and that vet tech dude r turning state’s witness against Lobos gang. Prob going into witness protection.

So new life and new city. May I suggest Buttcrack, Alaska? Or the eastern Gobi desert?

Hahaha thass funny, Bern

Hey Willow were u happy with ur date? Blonde dude?

Yes, Adrian was fine. … He was okay I guess
Spent very little time w/ me; feel like he asked me 2 prom to show what a “kind and generous” boy he was, asking a “disadvantaged girl” to prom. Like if I was disabled or something. I mean, nothing against disabled girls! I just think he did this to enhance his public standing, to include it on his resume’ in future.

Oh man. Is your heart broken?

I dunno. It hurt some; more disappointing than anything. But that’s all history because I have June 5 coming up!!! Oh Bern. I so wished that it could have been u giving me that promposal earlier this month.

I dunno. I remember what happened last time I propose 2 u!

Well if u hadn’t used a toy ring we might be married now! JK, neither of us were N E where near ready.

And we prob still aren’t. But getting closer; one day?

Don’t start me imagining. Won’t b able 2 sleep, and it’s past my bedtime.

OK. I need 2 call it a nite too.

Goodnight my good friend. I love u. U R still my hero.

Goodnight Willow I love u 2. And U R mine.

~o~O~o~

To be continued tomorrow.

If you've made it this far, please leave a comment! Don't make me reach through the screen and tweak your nose!

Thanks for reading!

“Son, the next time you set foot in this building, I expect you to be wearing slacks, a jacket and a tie. How dare you flaunt what you’re doing in God’s face, in our faces! Dress right, or don’t come back!”

Willow looked right back at him plaintively. “And if I do come back like this … ?”

~o~O~o~

NOTE TO READERS

Well, this has never happened before. I try to make a point of finishing a story before I start to post it, so most all of the work is done and I don't risk having an unfinished story (a pet peeve of mine) here on BC. But this story has defied my attempts to finish it. I have received input from readers about how they wish "this thing" was in the story, and others about how "that thing" should have been addressed; look, the story is the story, and if I'm happy with it, then take it or leave it. But twice now as I've prepared to wrap this up, Willow keeps coming up with unresolved stuff that I want to address. I evidently am no longer in control of it; it has control of me. So, I'm continuing this story. It may end with part 14. But who knows anymore? I sure don't. Sorry if my inconsistency is frustrating you.

Oh, and as for part 14: I need a break from the writing. So it won't be here tomorrow. It may take up to a week? But I hope not. Just watch the BC list, and it'll happen when it happens. As always, I appreciate you. **Sigh**

~o~O~o~

Late July.

Dr. Estrada was seeing Willow for her counseling; these visits had lessened to every 4 weeks, though the injections were still every 2. Today the teenager’s mother was waiting out in the lobby while Willow and the doc had a private session.

“So tell me, Willow. How are you doing? Now that you’re out in public more, have there been any problems? I understand you and Bernard are still dating. Has he had any blowback from his parents or friends regarding his dating a trans girl?”

“His mom’s not thrilled,” admitted Willow. “I think she wants natural grandkids between her son and a daughter-in-law. She isn’t rude to me when I’m at his house, but she’s not warm either. Bernard’s going to move out as soon as he finishes trade school; he’s going to be an auto mechanic.”

“And Bernard’s father?”

“He’s just not around much. I’ve seen him like, once this summer – and he was heading out the door to his second job. I’m worried; what if he has a woman on the side? Even though Bernard’s relationship with his dad is getting more distant, if his folks divorce I’m afraid it would crush him.”

“So, that’s stressful for you. How are your emotions doing? I especially want to know about anger.”

Willow smiled. “I work every day on my spiritual program, doc. I’ve been through the 12 steps and am still working on the maintenance program. I’ve got nearly 10 months off of any alcohol or drugs now; and neither Angry Bill nor Willy the Dude have popped up since the Rico incident in January. Aren’t you proud of me?”

“I’ve always been proud of you, young one. But that doesn’t relieve me of my duty of making sure you stay grounded. So tell me; what do you and Bernard do on your dates?”

“Ummm …” Willow blushed bright red. “We don’t have sex. Yet. I mean, most people wouldn’t call it sex. Uh, I guess you could say –“

“No, no Willow! That’s not what I meant. Although when you decide to “do it”, no matter who it’s with, I expect you to practice safe sex. We’ve talked about that. No, what I mean is what activities do you two do? Where do you go?”

“OH!” Willow exhaled with relief. “We’ve done a lot! Last month we visited Carlsbad Caverns. We’ve gone sand surfing at White Sands; last week he took me for dinner at Chala’s Wood Fire Grill, and we went to a movie afterward. He’s a great boyfriend.”

“Chala’s,” contemplated Estrada. “That’s in Las Cruces, correct?”

“Yes, sir. Have you been? It’s excellent!”

“Willow, all of your activities seem to be in New Mexico. Are you purposely avoiding El Paso?”

Willow suddenly got quiet as she considered his question. “Well … when school starts I won’t be able to do as much out-of-state traveling …”

“Young one, in a month you’ll be experiencing life as a trans girl in high school, suddenly surrounded by peers who previously knew you only as a boy – a drug dealer, no less. Are you afraid of running across them right now?”

Willow felt shaky inside and her breathing quickened. She immediately identified the emotion. “Omigod. I do fear it! I guess I’ve been unconsciously avoiding any uncomfortable situations. I’ve not been to the mall since I got my prom dress!”

“So, this is a valley you need to walk through – better sooner than later. Let’s see if you can go public in your home city and survive any turmoil it produces.”

“Okay, okay. I get it, doc. Will do. Even though I’m nervous about it.”

~o~O~o~

“Father, your 2 o’clock is here. Mrs. Eiken and her child. Shall I send them in?”

Father Joseph Wilson removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. This promised to be one of the more uncomfortable moments he’d experienced as head minister of Chula Vista Episcopal Church, and he wasn’t looking forward to it. “Yes, Marie. Please send them back.”

He stood up as two people entered his office – one female and a person who appeared to be one. “Gwen – welcome. And welcome to you, too; you must be Willow, correct?”

“Yes, Father,” the teen replied as she shook his hand.

“Have a seat please, both of you. Now; I think I know what it is, this issue you want to discuss. But let me hear it from you, ma’am.” He pointed his open palm towards Gwen.

“Father. I assume you know my child’s status. It was all over the news during prom season, and I’ve heard the poorly-hidden whispers in the foyer after services. My daughter Willow was formerly my son Bill. And she wants to start attending services here with me and the rest of my family.”

“I see. Is that all?”

Gwen was surprised. “Yes, that’s pretty much it.”

“I have no problem with her attending services. You are welcome here, Willow.”

The girl blinked. “Wow! That was easy.”

“Yes, your attendance is welcome. As long as that’s all you intend.”

Gwen’s eyes narrowed. “Explain.”

“What I mean is this: Chula Vista is a house of worship. I don’t want it used to push an agenda, or for political posturing. The church leadership has a stance that gays, lesbians, and transgenders are practicing sinful acts in God’s sight. Now, the church is supposed to be here to help sinners; I see us more like a hospital than as a spotless museum of icons. All sinners – including me – are welcome to come here to seek God and hear his truth. But I don’t want anyone actively promoting LGBT positions as if we were “all right” with it. No pink-and-blue flags, no GLAAD meetings, no outlandishly inappropriate dressing. Did you have any of this in mind as you came here today?”

Gwen opened her mouth but Willow beat her to the response. “Can I wear a Sunday dress? Or is that “outlandishly inappropriate”?”

“I personally would prefer you wear pants of some kind, Willow. Having said that, if you show up in a dress, I will defer any judgment or action to the church elders. Expect some negative feedback from other church members, too; I cannot control how they feel.”

“No, but you can affect it,” Gwen asserted. “If you announced from the pulpit that Willow was to be accepted and treated as any other church member, that would help a lot. Even if you said that our job as Christians is to love and not judge; you wouldn’t necessarily have to mention her name to do that.”

“It’s the acceptance part I have trouble with, Mrs. Eiken. We accept sinners, but not the sin. I will not be a part of turning a blind eye to behavior that is sinful.”

“But you guys allow drug addicts to come here and hold their NA meetings,” Willow urged. “Heck, some of them come to your services and help with various volunteer things!” She was thinking especially of Bernard and his position at the soundboard in the balcony.

“Yes we do, Willow; but all of those drug addicts acknowledge that it’s wrong behavior, and they are committed to quitting! We support their efforts. I would be very supportive of you if you acknowledged that your attempt to become a woman was wrong, and if you were seeking help to quit it.”

Gwen exhaled. “I was afraid of this, honey. The central El Paso Episcopal church follows the National Leadership and accepts trans people. I guess we’ll have to move our family to there.”

“No, Momma,” she whispered. “All my NA friends - and Bernard - attend here!” She then turned to father Wilson. The girl’s eyes got slightly watery, but her face was pure determination. “I’m going to attend services here, Father. I will probably be wearing a proper church-going dress. Let the members talk; let the elders judge. I will be the perfect, respectful church girl, not doing anything to ‘stir the pot’ except showing up.” Willow stood, and pulled her mother up by her hand. “I’ll see you Sunday, Father.”

“Very well, young man. I’ll see you then.”

Willow’s head jerked around to stare at the minister. Her face began to show fury, but then a calm serenity slowly transformed her to where her visage was relaxed and showing a sweet smile. “It’s young lady, please. God bless you, Father.” With that, both women left the office.

~o~O~o~

Grandpa John was asleep, having been put to bed right after supper. The rest of the Eiken family was at the dinner table. Bernard Andujar, Willow’s boyfriend, attended also.

“Before we get started,” said William, “how about a round of applause for your Mom’s supper tonight? Green chile sour cream chicken enchiladas. Honey, that’s my new favorite.”

“You say that after every new dish I serve,” Gwen smirked.

“And I really mean it each time!” he smiled. Then his face got serious. “Okay. We’re here to discuss what the plan is for Monday. Willow’s first day of high school as Willow. Angie, Bernard – what do you think she should expect?”

“Oh, I think some kids will make trouble for her,” said Angie. “Not most, but enough that she’ll have to always keep both eyes open. Nasty comments will happen for sure. Physical violence? I don’t know. And that’s what scares me; I really don’t know. I just know that at the end of last year, after the prom, I got teased and shoved just for being related to Willow.”

Bernard added more. “There are some tough dudes that she’ll have to watch out for. I know, because they threatened to beat me up once they learned we were friends. You need to stay in well-populated places on campus, dudette.”

“How can I avoid them?” fretted Willow. “I don’t even know what they look like yet.”

“I called the administration to make sure they know all of the people Angie and Bernard are talking about,” said Gwen. “Still, I wish one of us could be there. I can’t leave Grandpa alone in the house. Angie, is there any way … ?”

“My UTEP classes have already started, but that’s not the obstacle. Montclair doesn’t want me, a recent grad, to be roaming the halls protecting a student. So they refused to give me a hall pass. They think with their cameras they can prevent anything. They may document it, but prevent? I don’t think so.”

“I faced the same roadblock,” piped Bern. “I almost wish now I had flunked senior year so I could be back there to protect you, babe.”

“Guys, this is real life for me now,” sighed Willow. “I just need to face it. I can handle the talk and the looks. The only part I’m not sure about is getting beaten up. It would be nice to have a bodyguard to keep me out of trouble, but I guess –“

“I’ll do it.”

The whole assembly turned to where that voice came from. Gwen addressed the speaker.

“Malachi, are you sure? You’ll be just a freshman!”

“Mom, look at me. I know I’m only 14, but did you notice my growth spurt this year?” The young man stood up to show his full 6’1” height.

“Dude,” said Bernard. “You’ll have to have a real badass attitude to pull this off. These guys are upperclassmen, and they intimidate anyon - URK!“

Bernard’s “urk” was due to Malachi grabbing his coat by the lapels and pulling the older boy face-to-face. “HEY! Are you the piece of trash who’s threatening my sister? ARE YOU??”

Bernard smiled nervously. “That’ll do, dude. That’ll do!”

~o~O~o~

It was the Sunday before the first day of school at Montclair High. Most teenage churchgoers would be thinking about what was to happen on Monday. But thoughts of class were now superseded by the sight of a girl standing in the foyer of Chula Vista Episcopal.

Said girl wore a modest knee-length dress with pretty ruffled sleeves; it was a pastel mint sage color. She stood by her family as her mother and father greeted their friends there. Some people were formally introduced to the girl, who courteously shook hands with them; she even gave a hug to an older gracious woman. None of the teens present approached her. One young girl angrily elbowed her boyfriend for staring a little too long.

Willow stood and twiddled her fingers as she grinned nervously. Smile, smile. You’re glad to be here. Make a good impression.

“You doing okay, daughter?” Gwen side-whispered.

“So far,” breathed Willow. “Where’d bro and sis go?”

“Mal’s gone to the teen church, and Angie’s sitting in the young adults' group. Poppa and I are going to the sanctuary to take our seats now. You’ll be going upstairs, right?”

“Yeah. Bernard should be already up there at the soundboard. I’ll see you guys back here after it’s over!” Willow walked quickly to the balcony steps, and up them. Reaching the top, she scanned the upper seats and saw her boyfriend.

“Hey!” she chirped, her face beaming as she sat by Bern.

“Man, I must’a died and gone to heaven,” he said. “Because this is surely an angel sitting next to me.”

“Oh, stop,” Willow chided. “Wait. No, actually, keep it up. I think I love it.”

The worship began. Traditional songs accompanied by organ were played and sung. Prayers and statements were read, with the congregation saying “amen” in unison at times. Then Father Wilson came to the podium.

He spoke on Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount out of Matthew; He barely got one-third of the way through the first chapter before the time came to end the service.

“So, Jesus said that stuff. That didn’t sound too bad to me. Where were all the 'thou shalt nots'?" asked Willow as the crowd began to disband.

“I liked that too, Willow. At least in that part of the Bible, Jesus sounds a lot like the Higher Power that we follow in NA.”

“I remember when you first mentioned the letters 'HP' to me. You spoke about him like he was a real person, and was helping you. To be honest, I thought you were a little flaky there. But now I know what you mean. Boy, do I! If it weren’t for my HP, I’d have relapsed on drugs and probably be back in Juvie.”

“So how was your first time at church as Willow?”

“Not bad – I liked it! And being next to you? I LOVED it!”

“I’ve got to secure the board here for next Sunday. I’ll text you tonight as always, OK? I won’t make it too late because tomorrow’s your first day back at school.”

“I shall await your message, my hero. Bye!” With that, Willow hopped down the stairs. “Well! This was a wonderful morning,” she muttered to herself as she descended. As she stepped onto the floor level, a large hand grabbed her left upper arm. She turned her head to see a balding middle-aged man invading her personal space. He had rage written all over him.

“Son, the next time you set foot in this building, I expect you to be wearing slacks, a jacket, and a tie. How dare you flaunt what you’re doing in God’s face, in our faces! Dress right, or don’t come back!”

Willow looked right back at him plaintively. “And if I do come back like this … ?”

“DON’T,” the man growled. He then looked to his right and his left and skulked away.

Willow felt the sting of the rebuke, even though it was undeserved. Her eyes squinted shut and her mouth puckered as she felt the words slowly ebb. “So much for the “wonderful morning”. Spoke too soon,” she said under her breath.

As she stood there, she felt a hand once more grab her left upper arm. She quickly reacted – “Hey! Sir, leave me alone!” Then she saw to whom the hand belonged. It was a teenage girl with an anxious face.

“You’re Willow, right? The transsexual?”

“Who wants to know?”

“I need you to follow me. Hurry!” The girl then took off running down the hallway that led to the church classrooms.

As Willow ran, the hallway got progressively darker. They were shutting down the building lights. Either that or I’m running into a trap, she worried.

The girl she was following stopped in front of a classroom door, and opened it. The room was pitch black except for a slim window that let in a little light from the outside. “Go in there,” panted the anxious teen.

Willow balked. “Uh-uh. No way. You’ve got a bunch of dudes in there ready to beat on me.” She started to turn and run back to the foyer.

“NO! No, please! It’s my little brother! You’re the only one!” anxious girl urged.

Willow still wanted to run. But something in this desperate gal rang as authentic. HP, what do I do?

In her mind she heard Dr. Estrada’s voice: face your fear, keep on walking. Then in Julia’s voice: you can’t stay clean and sober unless you reach out to those in need; it may mean taking a risk.

Okay, HP. But if I get killed, I’m blaming you.

She stepped into the dark room and felt for a light switch. Finding one, she turned it on.

There in one of the classroom chairs sat a young boy, maybe about ten or eleven years old. He had obviously been crying. But now he looked with wonder at this girl who had entered.

“Are you Willow? The girl from the Action 6 News prom thing? Your eyes look different.”

“Yeah, I can’t reproduce that professional smoky eye just yet. Who are you?”

“I’m … Amanda.”

“Amanda?!”

The boy began to cry, and rose out of his chair. He ran to Willow and grabbed ahold of her waist as he bawled uncontrollably. Willow gradually realized what was happening. She wrapped her arms around the youth and squeezed tight.

"Amanda ... you're like me, aren't you?" whispered Willow.

The child nodded her head and continued to weep,

Through her sobs, Amanda recounted how she’d known she was a girl for as long as she could remember. Her parents, especially her father, wouldn’t allow it and had punished her for mentioning it. She felt trapped and desperate. The only one she had to confide in was her sister.

“Well, Amanda; now you’ve got me to talk to, also,” Willow assured him with a tight squeeze.

“But how can we do that?”

“Do you have a cell phone? Give me your number.”

Willow called the number Amanda gave her.

“There. Now we’ve got each other in our phones. Text me later when it’s safe, maybe after you’ve gone to bed, okay?” whispered Willow.

Amanda and her sister left so their father wouldn’t get angry trying to find them. Willow went back to the church foyer, where the rest of her family was waiting.

“Hey there, Weeping Willow. What are you crying about now?” Angie asked.

“Oh! Yeah, I guess I have been,” Willow sniffed. “Don’t worry. These are tears of thankfulness. I think God’s using me to do some good stuff. It’s about time; I’ve screwed up so much of my life, I needed to start canceling some of it out.”

~o~O~o~

The next day – the first day of school this Fall semester at Montclair High.

“Hello, class. This is Basic Geometry, what you could call Geometry 101. I’m your teacher, Ms. Moscowitz. You say it like I just said it, and you spell it like I’ve written on the dry erase board here.

“Before we start today’s lesson, I want to introduce you to one of your fellow students. Actually, it’s a re-introduction; this student was Bill Ramos in his freshman year. He’s been gone for the last part of freshman year and all of his sophomore year. Now he’s back, but he’s no longer a “he”. I’m speaking of Willow Ramos. Willow, could you come up here, please?

“You may remember her from TV news PromPosal feature last spring. In any event, she has graciously agreed to stand here and meet you all, and answer questions you may have. Because once I start my lesson, there will be no murmuring or talking, understand? Also, keep the questions respectful, free of profanity, and free of any sexual talk. Otherwise? Detention.”

“What do you consider a sexual question?” one smart-aleck in the back yelled.

“If you’re wondering if your question is sexual – THEN IT IS, SO KEEP YOUR TRAP SHUT,” dictated Ms. Moscowitz. “All right, Willow. Shall we proceed?”

Willow nodded. Boy, if all of my teachers are like this, it may be a smooth running semester, she thought.

~o~O~o~

“Father Wilson. Your 4 o’clock appointment is here.”

“Yes. Mrs. Eiken and Willow. Go ahead and send them back.”

The mother and daughter entered the room and exchanged quick pleasantries.

“So, you two. I saw you were at services on Sunday. Was there a problem?”

“Well, some middle-aged man grabbed my arm and threatened me. But I think he was trying to scare me off more than anything,” Willow responded. “I’m really here for another reason.”

Willow told of her encounter with Amanda, being careful not to name names.

“So, I’ve been texting back and forth with her every day this week.”

“What are you telling me this for?” asked the Father.

“A few reasons. One, I don’t want to conceal from you this new relationship I have with a young church member. I don’t want you thinking I’m going behind your back. I didn’t ‘win her over to the trans side’; I just responded to her urgent plea.

“Two, I would appreciate it if you would consider talking to this girl’s father. He needs to know it’s not okay to threaten his child with physical punishment, or with being disowned. According to this child, that’s what has happened. I have to believe that Jesus wouldn’t be okay with that. Would you talk to the father if I told you his name?”

“Perhaps," answered the minister. "However, I ask that you stop texting with this boy. You’re not a licensed church minister, and you’re interfering with the parent-child relationship.”

Willow calmly addressed that statement. “She’s not a boy; she’s a girl. And I wasn’t acting as a minister; it’s just coincidence that we met inside a church. All of our contact since has been via text when we’re in our homes. As to this parent-child relationship? It needs to be interfered with. This girl is suffering; she’s the kid you read about in the obituaries, killing themselves before they get out of high school.”

The Father grunted in frustration. “You’re asking me, once again, to accept a trans–“

“No, I’m not,” interrupted Willow. “You don’t have to accept anything. I’ll do the accepting. What I need you to do is exercise your influence on the girl’s father. Get him to back off the threats. Tell him and teach him to love his kid unconditionally, in spite of their disagreements. You don’t have to tell him that the TV transgender girl is talking with his kid; in fact, DON’T tell him.”

Father Wilson once again removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes; he sighed heavily.

Willow smiled and leaned over to grasp the minister’s hand. “Father. Just re-read that Sermon on the Mount thing you talked about on Sunday. You know the right thing to do. Be brave, and do it! I’ll be so proud of you.”

“All right. Give me the man’s name. I’ll do my best to help, young ma-“

He caught himself. “ah … young lady.”

Willow smiled big. “See? I’m proud of you already!”

~o~O~o~

To be continued ... well, my statement at the beginning.

If you've made it this far, please leave a comment! Don't make me reach through the screen and tweak your nose!

Thanks for reading!

“Okay. Bend over. Hmmmn. I see no bumpiness; all is smooth as silk. You should take some pix for your boyfriend. Not of your crotch, mind you – just in the suit in general.”

“Already did, and sent them to his email. That will give him something to obsess over when he’s on his lunch break,” she dreamily exhaled.

Gwen moved behind her daughter and began adjusting the bows of her top. “Have you two had sex?”

“URK!!” gulped Willow.

~o~O~o~

NOTE TO READERS

Hello, all. **Sigh** here. I'm finally (at long last!) posting the rest of the Weeping Willow saga. It took a lot longer than I'd planned, mainly due to health and real-life issues. I will be picking up the story where I last left it at the end of part 13, published way back in March. I thought about writing a little recap of where we are, just to jog people's memories; but after a few unsatisfactory tries, I figured I'd just let you guys refer back to the previous chapters for the full details. Hopefully, I've put enough "memory joggers" in that you don't have to go back and re-read all 13 previous chapters (tho if u want 2, please be my guest!). Thank you all soooo much for your readership. Now on with the tale!

~o~O~o~

It was 102 degrees Fahrenheit outside – dangerous, even for people used to August afternoons in El Paso, Texas. Heatstroke was a concern for the Montclair High football team as they practiced for their first game this Friday. Most of the other students had left school and gone home, or to friends, Dairy Queen or anywhere there was air conditioning. Willow Eiken – formerly Bill “Willy” Eiken – was in a counseling session in Dr. Estrada’s office, where the temperature was controlled and comfortable. However, the emotional climate in the consultation room could be described as cloudy with a chance of storms.

“What’s wrong, young one?” asked the doctor. “You’re tapping your foot, glancing all around. Tentative – that’s how you look. Is something bothering you?”

The girl sighed. “It’s nothing important; nothing worth taking up your valuable time. We were gonna talk about the first day of school, and how others were treating me. It went fine, and people have either accepted me or they’ve avoided me. That’s it, nothing much else to report.”

“Bullshit.”

Willow gasped – Dr. Estrada had never used such language towards her before.

“Forgive me, patient,” he continued, “but I can’t let you get away with that. You, of all people, must be aware of your emotional state and how it’s affecting you. If you ignore it, then it silently builds and bad things happen, like you throwing a fit of anger or getting your sister kidnapped. Do I have your attention now?”

“Yes sir,” mumbled the teen in a tone that was submissive yet irritated.

“So do the exercise. What emotion are you feeling right now?”

“I – blast it – I don’t know? I can’t say I feel fearful, or anxious, or sad or happy. I’m frustrated some, but I don’t know the reason. If I don’t – wait. That’s it. That’s it! I know what it is. But I’m not sure it’s an emotion?”

“What do you mean, Willow?”

“I’m BORED, dammit! – oops! Sorry, doc.”

“No problem, child; I deserved that, after saying ‘BS’ earlier. So you’re bored. Elaborate.”

“Oh … life is fine; it’s just - … not changing much. Dad works; Mom’s full-time job is sitting with and caring for my Grandpa – he’s got Alzheimer's. School is new, but I don’t have friends there yet. Bernard’s working for a car shop; long hours, and he loves it, but we don’t get as much time together. Physically, I had seen rapid changes each month since starting hormones – but not so much the last 3 months. My ‘J-Lo butt’ is great, but my breasts are still barely an A-cup and my face has too many sharp corners; if I wasn’t so short, there’s no way I’d ever pass. Don’t know if I’m being impatient, or if this is all the ‘mones are ever going to give me. And one more thing, a big thing …” the girl took a big breath and exhaled slowly before proceeding.

“I miss – God, I’m afraid you’re gonna get so mad when I say this – I miss the action. The drug-dealing action. It was an illegal thrill – and boy was I was good at it! I was such an important guy, Willie the Dude, the kingpin of North Montanas. Now, I’m just Willow the trannie. I wish I had something to replace the excitement I had when using and selling drugs.” She hung her head.

The doctor frowned. “Are you feeling remorse about choosing to become female? Or about obeying your parents and the rules of society?”

“NO. No! No regrets.” Willow shook her head forcefully, then looked to the other side of the room as if to avoid eye contact with her doc. “Um … not yet, anyway.”

“Not YET?” Estrada paused. The room was uncomfortably silent as Willow struggled to compose a response.

Finally, she spoke. “Most times I love the new me. It’s only when I think about the future that I get shaken. There’s the concern about not being able to produce kids for Bernard; you know, ones that are truly his and mine. Also, I worry about being able to satisfy him as good as the girls he’s had before. Heck, I worry that I myself won’t be able to get sexual pleasure – there’s no guarantee that SRS will leave me with the ability to come, you know?”

“To orgasm,” Estrada specified.

“Yes. And I don’t know what I want for my future, what to do with myself when school’s over. Bernard and I still plan to marry, but I don’t want to be just a housewife. I have NO idea what to pursue.”

“What was your life plan before becoming Willow?”

“Um … becoming drug kingpin for all of El Paso, and Juarez.”

“That doesn’t sound like a viable career either. I doubt you’d see the age of 30 if you continued that path. Murder rates along the border here have decreased in the last few years, but still –“

“I know, I know, doc,” sighed Willow. “I just … feel lost when I think about what to do. My sister Angie has a plan for college; even little bro Malachi does! EVERYONE does, except for me. Stupid, little old me.”

The doctor put down his pen and smiled at his young patient. “Good work, Willow. You really were able to put a lot of difficult feelings and thoughts out there for us to work on. And I’m relieved and encouraged to hear them.”

“You are? Even the ‘I miss drug-dealing’ part?”

“All of your concerns are ones that almost all teenagers – even non-transgender ones – go through. Parenting, sex, career choices, enjoyment of life after high school, and dread of a boring J-O-B; these are pretty common anxieties. The body issues, parenting, and sex function worries are ones most all male-to-female transitioners deal with. There’s a huge amount of resources available, locally and online, that will likely help – I’ll send them to you via email.”

With that, the psychic clouds dissipated a little as the sunlight of peace broke through for the doctor and his patient.

~o~O~o~

The fourth day of the fall semester had just ended. Willow gathered her belongings and walked to her locker to drop some books off; she mused about her high school experience as she did so. Junior year seems like a breeze so far, at least as classes go. I was worried that my time being home-schooled might have left me behind my classmates here; looks like Momma actually got me ahead of the pack. And so far no one here has hassled me –

THUMP!

Willow spun halfway around and stumbled, almost falling. Someone had bumped her left shoulder as they’d walked by, delivering a staggering blow. Before she could gather herself, a large hand grabbed hold of her arm. A deep voice said “I’m so sorry, Miss! I didn’t see you there!”

She turned her head to see an older boy steadying her. Concern etched his visage. “Are you okay?” he said.

“Uh, I think so? There’s no one else in the hallway – how did you happen to run into me?” she mumbled, temporarily dazed.

His face relaxed into a smile. “Sorry! My mind was, um, preoccupied.”

Willow shook her head free of the remaining stars and grinned back. “You’re forgiven. Thanks for being so nice about it –“

“Preoccupied with how wrong it is for a pervert like you to be allowed to come here, and how we’re supposed to treat you like we would treat real girls, you steaming pile of puke. You make me sick. Go somewhere else. You’re not welcome here.” The boy said this with the same relaxed smile and posture as before; his body language didn’t match his words at all.

Willow was confused by the disconnect, but now angry also. “Look, whoever you are. You can’t bully me. There are videos all around the school and I’ll have them pull this footage up tomorrow,” she said as she pointed towards the hall camera. She then aimed her finger in his face as hers glowered red with ire. “Then your ass is in deep –“

“Whoa there!” he replied. His hands were up in a gesture of concession and his eyebrows rose with alarm as he took a few steps backward. “The vids are picture only, no sound. All they’re gonna see is a poor guy who accidentally bumped into a girl and tried to apologize, just to have her throw a psycho rage-fit.” He turned and walked away, resuming his pleasant smile. “Have a nice day. And watch your back.”

The young transgirl stood there stunned as he walked away. She realized the tape would appear just as he’d predicted.

~o~O~o~

Bernard prepared to drop a fresh battery into the Volvo XC40 he’d been assigned. Working on cars was a dream to him; it hardly seemed like work at all. He especially enjoyed figuring out difficult engine problems and was fast developing a reputation as the “car whisperer” at his place of employ, Torres Auto Repair. As he tightened the cables onto the terminals, he felt two sensations: satisfaction in a quick job done right – and the urge of a full bladder.

Five minutes later, Bern was still in the locked toilet as his phone beeped indicating a text from Willow. Hey Bern – I’m here 2 drop something off 4 you. Julio sez U R in bathroom so I’ll leave it @ front desk K?

In 20 more seconds, Bern exploded out of the door of the lavatory. “Hey baby – wait up! Don’t leave without me getting a chance to see you!”

“Hello love,” Willow laughed as she met him just outside the garage intake doors. “I made these this afternoon,” holding up and wiggled a baggie filled with warm homemade chocolate chip pecan cookies. “They taste pretty good, I think; they could be more rounded, but it was my first time.”

The young mechanic grabbed the goodies with his left palm and both her hands with his right; he squeezing them tight. “I’ve got some oil on my clothes, but I just washed my hands. On our date this Friday I plan to give you a proper hug and kiss though.”

Willow smiled at him, then sniffed once or twice. “Are you sure you washed your hands good?” she queried with one eyebrow lifted slightly.

“Well, I was quick. What? All I did was pee.”

“I know … but I think you were doing something else,” she whispered. “You smell … a little spunky.” She mouthed the last word silently.

Bern’s face went a whiter shade of pale. “Uhh … errr … oh God. I’m sorry. How can you smell that with all these oil and exhaust fumes here?”

“I think it’s the estrogen. I seem to smell – and hear – with more sensitivity and intensity since I started HRT last year. So, were you getting off to porn?” she said with a pained look.

“No. To a hot chick in her yellow bikini.” He pulled up a set of pictures onto his phone and showed them to her. “Remember sending these to me?”

“You know, I’d forgotten,” she said as she viewed all the poses she’d modeled in that two-piece earlier in the summer. “So these turn you on, huh?”

“Like nothing else, babe.”

“Okay. That’s fine. Just go wash really good, with soap this time; don't forget to sanitize your phone, too," she said as she squirted some alcohol from a nearby dispenser into her palms. "And once I turn legal age, we can relieve each other properly. Are you counting the months? I am!”

“I’m not obsessing over it or anything.. Only 11 more months. And 3 days. And eight hours,” Bern said with a devilish snicker.

“Babe,” Willow queried, “what’s that in your shirt pocket?”

“Oh – I got employee of the month. This was my reward. It’s one of those video doorbells that people use for their home security systems. To be honest, I think it’s just something Mr. Torres – my boss – bought, then found he had an extra, so he’s giving it away as a prize. I’d prefer a gift card to Rock Auto Parts, to be honest.”

“Well, I’m proud of you. You’re so good at cars – at anything mechanical, babe.”

As Willow left the shop on her bicycle, she mused over the day she sent her beau those pictures, 2 months ago. She and her family were traveling on their summer vacation, and she was wishing her boyfriend could be with her …

~o~O~o~

“I miss Bern,” fretted the young brunette as she rode in the Eiken family SUV. “I’m finally going to spend some quality time in some swimwear, and he’s not around to see it.”

“We’re only gonna be gone for three days, sis,” whispered Angela. “Bernard had to work this week anyway, remember? Besides, if you got to bring him, then Mal and I would have argued to have a pal or friend to come with each of us too. That would be 8 people total Dad would be paying for. He had to dole out a lot of cash for grandpa to be taken care of while we were gone anyway. So please keep the lovesick moaning to a minimum before Mom’s mood sours, ‘kay?”

It was the end of July, and school was to start in 3 short weeks; this was the last opportunity the family had for a vacation together. So they were taking the long drive to the Texas hill country. Willliam, the father and family head, had booked a cabin near the Guadalupe River so they could do some tubing. “Maybe we can visit that huge water park at New Braunfels too,” he’d suggested.

Gwen Eiken was riding shotgun; she turned her head to look at her kids. Malachi was in the back seat engrossed in his phone. Her two daughters in the middle seat row stopped their whispering to return her gaze. Their “Hi Mom” was almost in unison, except Willow said “Momma”, her unique name for Gwen.

“Hey kiddos. Whatcha talkin’ ‘bout?”

“Oh, just things. Ya know. Silly teen girl stuff,” Willow replied with a clearly artificial smile.

“I was wondering if we’re going to stop at that 100-year-old bakery in New Braunfels. I read online that their cream puffs are to die for!” chirped Angie, hoping to distract her Mom from addressing Willow’s forced grin.

“Yeah, Naegelin’s has reportedly been there over a century,” inserted William as he kept his eyes on the road. “Don’t know that I want to eat a 100-year-old cream puff, though. Haha!”

“GROANNN,” sighed his two daughters, this time in perfect unison. Gwen agreed. “On a joke scale of 1 to 10, that was a minus 2, honey,” she laughed; then she turned back to facing the front.

Willow exhaled. Angie kept silent, but texted her sister. No more Bernard talk ‘til later.

~o~O~o~

The family had arrived and checked into their riverside cabin; then roamed around the historic downtown before taking in a movie and finally all hitting the sack. They slept in until about 9:30 when William boomed “IT’S BAKERY BREAKFAST TIME! EVERYBODY UP AND AT ‘EM – WE NEED TO EAT AND THEN GO TUBING!”

Although the reveille was harsh, the breakfast was heavenly – a selection of sweet and savory treats from Naegelin’s, accompanied by fresh hot coffee and juice. “You’re so sweet to get this for us, honey,” cooed Gwen at her spouse. “But for future wake-ups, a good morning kiss is all that’s needed, okay?”

“I know, babe – for you. But the kids usually require more volume to break their slumber.”

“He’s right,” mumbled a still sleepy Angie. “We need a loud alarm.” Sister Willow nodded as she sipped her hot java.

“There was an alarm? I didn’t hear nothin’. The smell of the coffee woke me up,” Mal garbled in-between huge bites of bear claw.

~o~O~o~

Willow preened before the mirror in her room. Her two-piece was a yellow top held by bow ties behind her neck and back, and a matching skirted bottom. She liked the look, yet her face was fretful.

“Stop worrying. You’re perfect. So-ooo hot,” reassured Angie.

“What if it gets transparent when wet? I’ll be so humiliated.”

“Willow, look at the fabric. That’s not see-through. Is that really what you’re worried about?”

“Umm … no. To be honest, it’s - ”

“Knock-knock, girls. Can I come in?” spoke Gwen from outside the bedroom door.

She entered with their assent. “How are the arrangements working out here? Any discomfort with you two sharing the same room?”

The girls blinked their eyes in wonder back at their mother. “No. Why?”

“Let me be blunter. Any undesired junk sightings? Any unplanned penis peeps producing pangs of panic?”

“OHMIGOD! MOMMA!” Willow's face was redder than the jelly from the donut she’d eaten.

“No, Mom. Willow is, as always, super discreet. We don’t go nude around each other, and we don’t look at each other when we’re dressing,” said Angie. “Unless we’re making fashion suggestions.”

“Good,” replied Gwen. “Though I’m a little disappointed that neither of you commented on my nifty bit of alliteration earlier.”

“Well, please pardon our perceived paucity of praise, Parent,” grinned Angie.

“And pardon the peculiar preponderance of “P’s” in the preceding passage,” added Willow.

“Awesome. I’m raising a couple of vocabulary geniuses – sarcastic ones, at that,” Gwen said. “So, Willow – are you worried about something? You look nervous.”

Her middle child sighed. “Angie, can you step out of the room for a sec?”

“Sure, Sis. Mom, how do you like my suit?” Angie twirled about in her red string bikini.

“Well, you’re 18 and an adult. I’ll allow it – but your Dad may not. Better cover the bottom at least with some jean shorts before you step out of here. Remember right now you still live at home and he’s paying for your vacay.” Angie complied then stepped out; Willow’s momma turned to her. “What’s up?”

“Well … speaking of ‘junk’ … is mine hidden enough?”

“That skirt bottom hides it all, daughter.”

“Yeah, when I’m standing. But in the water, it might flip up and I’m afraid lumps might show. If the suit was jet black instead of neon yellow, it might be hidden better. I’ve tucked and even taped, but can you check me?”

“Okay. Bend over. Hmmmn. I see no bumpiness; all is smooth as silk. You should take some pix for your boyfriend. Not of your crotch, mind you – just in the suit in general.”

“Already did, and sent them to his email. That will give him something to obsess over when he’s on his lunch break,” she dreamily exhaled.

Gwen moved behind her daughter and began adjusting the bows of her top. “Have you two had sex?”

“URK!!” gulped Willow. “Why – what makes you think that?”

“Just a simple, reasonable question. You've spent a lot of time together this summer. He’s dated you every weekend, and you go to NA meetings together. Now, you’ve never broken curfew – I respect him for that. But sometimes you get home with your lipstick worn off and your hair a little mussy. It would be logical to think that you two might have gone all the way – at least in some form. I know you don’t have a vagina, but there are other -”

“I KNOW! I know. I know all about the ‘different ways’. But that doesn’t mean I’ve done them. I’m still 16 for a few more weeks; if Bern and I had sex, that would mean you guys could turn him in for statutory. Dad threatened him with that when you two first allowed us to date, remember? ‘Cause Bern and I sure remember.”

“So, just to be specific. No oral?”

“No.”

“No anal?”

“NO.”

“Hand job?”

“No contact with his groin at all! Um. Not … directly. No ‘skin touching skin’ down there. And he doesn’t touch my groin … skin.”

“Does he touch your boobies?”

“That’s not sex. And, yes.”

“So. A lot of rubbing with no one’s pants off or unzipped?”

“Yes. So see, no sex has happened yet. Right? Are we in trouble or something?”

“No, honey. I was just curious.”

Willow turned right and left before the mirror, checking out the suit fit. She then faced her parent. “Momma … I know you. You don’t do light talks about stuff like this. Is there some other agenda you're hinting at, something we need to deal with?”

“No, baby - I promise. Just being a parent, making sure you're making good choices. As long as you're honest with me, I promise not to be TOO intrusive." She laughed. "I'll just be appropriately intrusive. Now let's get out there before your father starts complaining about too much idling being bad for the SUV."

~o~O~o~

The family was now tubing as a group down the Guadalupe, each in their own personal rented tube. The water was cold, but the sun was hot, and so all present were relaxing with their swimsuits and sunglasses as the flow slowly took them down past glorious riverside houses and foliage. There was only one exception to the serenity: Willow. She was spread out atop her tube, not allowing any part of her body to touch the water. Angela paddled with her arms over to where she was.

“What’s up, sis? You look so tense.”

“Ahhh … I’m … I’m fine, Angie. I’m okay.”

“Liar. You’re lousy at telling fibs now that you do that 12 step stuff. Why won’t you touch the water?”

Willow sighed. “Okay, look. I’ve swum before, but always in swimming pools. You can’t see through this water – and who knows what kind of things are down there to bite me?”

Angie gaped at her little sis. “Like what? Freshwater river sharks? North American piranhas? Nope; none of those things exist.”

“What about snakes or other reptiles? I thought this river would be clearer!”

“Sis. Just relax,” – but Angie was suddenly interrupted by a bearded man yelling from 15 yards back upstream; he was floating just behind the Eikens. “Hey you! Girl in the yellow bikini! There’s a big green croc right beside you, see it?”

“Wh – WHAT!?” Willow squeaked as she glanced furtively all around her. Then she saw it – a huge gator nose poking out of the water, just inches from her left foot. “AAAAAAHH! GET AWAY GET AWAY GET AWAY FROM ME AAAAAAA!!” She paddled furiously with her arms while raising her legs away from the creature’s snout. In the process, she became unbalanced and the tube flipped her over into the water.

“HELP! HELP!,” the girl shrieked as she swam downstream as fast as she could, past her laughing brother and smiling Momma. Willow’s Poppa grabbed her arm as she passed his tube.

“Hey, daughter! Look back at Angie.”

She did – and saw her older sister grab the croc’s nose. She pulled it out of the water – revealing the monster as just a big, green, floating foam rubber shoe.

“Did you lose this, sir?” Angie yelled at the bearded man. He nodded, and she tossed the “Croc” brand slipper back to him.

A sheepish Willow swam back to her tube and climbed back onto it.

~o~O~o~

Willow rode her Schwinn bike away from Bernard's job as she mused on the memory. Slowly, embarrassment brewed into resentment. I can’t believe I was so stupid. Everyone was laughing at me like I was an idiot. Yeah, as if THEY hadn’t ever made a mistake before. Her frustration began to burn a hole in her psyche, and without realizing it she started to grind her teeth as her face twisted into a furious rage.

“FUCK ME! FUCK THEM! FUCK EVERY-GOD-DAMN-BODY,” she screamed as she, in one fluid motion, dismounted her moving bicycle and flung it by the handlebars into the street. Two cars almost crashed head-on into each other as one swerved to miss running over it; both of them screeched to a stop. The swerver, a bald man in a red sedan, rolled down his window. “Young lady! What the heck did you do that for? You almost killed me and this other guy!”

“Oh God – I’m, I’m so sorry!” she blubbered as she ran out to retrieve her Schwinn, tears suddenly gushing from her eyes.

~o~O~o~

Hey Bern. U there?

Yep! Those cookies were awesome, babe. I shared a few with the guys at the shop, and they were all wishing you were their GF. They were jealous of me before, but the choc chips sent them thru the roof with envy.

Oh good! Needed 2 hear that. Been a rough day.

What? Really? U seemed fine at the shop.

Didn’t have time 2 tell u. I had a guy bully me at school, and he was super slick about it. The cameras won’t pick up that he was doing anything wrong. And latr on my bike I threw a tantrum; nearly caused huge car wreck. Happened after I left the shop.

Whaaaat? R u OK? And – Rage/fit??? Where did that come from? Long time since that’s happened, right?

Not since I had run-in with Rico at coffee shop all those months ago. I’m OK physically, not so much emotionally.

So what’s the root of that?

THAT’S THE PROBLEM, I DON’T EXACTLY KNOW! Was having a stupid memory, next thing – EXPLOSION. Came on so fast – wasn’t expecting it! I’m scared, – can’t have that kind of stuff happening again. Is Angry Bill trying to come back? Or am I becoming Angry Willow? Oh God please not that! Wish u were here; could really use being held. I know, it’s after 10, no visitors allowed.

Babe. Calm down. U R gonna be fine. Do these things, K?
- 1 – Call ur sponsor ‘bout this fury-fit.
- 2 – Go tell ur mom that u need 2 be held. Ur nevr 2 old 4 a momhug.
- 3 - Then text me back & tell me bout this bully. We’ll figure out sumthin’ 4 him.
- 4 – Say out loud x25: Bern luvs me like crazy and no matter what we’ll face all this together.

…..

Babe U there?

Sorry, I was doing the last thing first. Feel a li’l bettr. Will call Julia now. I love you, BF!

~o~O~o~

To be continued tomorrow.

If you've made it this far, please leave a comment! Don't make me reach through the screen and tweak your nose!

Thanks for reading!

Amanda U sound pretty desperate

I am

Desperate enough 2 end it all?

You mean like running away?

No, I meant ending ur life. Suicide.

R U saying I should think about it?

NO! YOU NEVER EVER SHOULD! YOU WILL COME THROUGH THIS – trust me! But plz answer question – have you been thinking about suicide, even a little?

Maybe a little.

~o~O~o~

“Another inventory? I already did that – a BIG one – 6 months ago. Did it not work?” Willow sighed as she spoke on the phone.

“No, not another step 4,” replied Julia, her Narcotics Anonymous sponsor. “You don’t have to re-do that huge initial emotional inventory. But this river float episode happened since then. So you should be regularly doing a step 10 – where it says continue to take personal inventory. If you’d been doing so, you’d have dealt with the shame of looking foolish – and the memory would now hopefully make you just laugh at yourself, not fly off the handle.”

“Okay, I’ll do that. How come you’re so wise, Jules?”

“Ha! Not wise; just experienced. I’ve been through this crap myself – not with anger, but with extreme, crippling anxiety. I’d be dead or drugged up in a flophouse right now if I hadn’t held on to NA and my sponsor. So I’m glad you called, my little sponsee.”

~o~O~o~

One week later.

Willow had just completed a 30 minute session with the school counselor; they required this even though she still saw Dr. Estrada on a regular basis. She guessed administration wanted to make sure they were meeting her needs; it was hard to tell if they genuinely wanted to help, or were “covering their butts” to prevent possible accusations of neglect or discrimination. After all, she seemed to be the only openly transitioning student at Montclair High.

As Willow walked down the east hall toward the doors leading to the bicycle racks, she confronted something new: yellow cones draped with plastic DETOUR tape, cutting off passage down the hall. A sign said WAXING FLOOR. And yes, there were red arrow signs pointing to an open staircase that had to led down to the ground floor. She grumbled to herself. First I had to stay after classes for this session, and now I have to navigate around the janitor crews.

She turned towards the stairs for two steps then stopped. Shaking her head, she sent a text to 2 numbers; one of them promptly replied. She then reached inside her purse to press a button. I’m probably being paranoid, but better safe than sorry. Then she headed down the staircase as the arrows instructed.

Arriving downstairs, she immediately felt in danger – the only light was a solitary hanging bulb, and there was no hallway, just a room with no exit other than back up the steps. She turned to run up them – and would have, except for a hand that now gripped around her throat. Turning her head as much as she could, she saw she was being held by the boy who’d harassed her last week.

“Sh-sh-sh. Shush now. Stay quiet if you want to live. I only want to punish you. But if you make me, I will kill you. Pervert.”

Willow choked out some speech from her compressed larynx. “I know who you are, Connor Irving. Looked you up in the yearbook. Told the counselo-“

“Shut up!” hissed Connor. “You must think you’re pretty smart. But there are no cameras down here to save you, and I guarantee no one saw me set up the cones and arrows. No one knows we’re down here. Now get ready for a beating.”

“Connor, you’re wrong. There is a camera down here. And it records both video and sound.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“Check out my purse. See the little lens protruding from the corner? It’s a modified video doorbell we’ve adapted to be like a body cam the police use. It even transmits live video – it’s doing so now. I told a friend – and the police - about you, and we made a plan to catch you in the act next time you tried something.”

Suddenly the boy’s cell rang from his back pants pocket.

“I’d get that if I were you,” said Willow.

“H – hello?” stammered the would-be assaulter into his smartphone. His face drained of color, and he ended the call. “That was the cops. They have my number. They’ve been recording all of this from your transmitter – and they’re 60 seconds away.”

“You’re going to jail for attempted assault, Connor. At 18, I think you’re too old for juvie.”

“Well if I’m going there, I might as well make it worth it,” he snarled, pulling his arm back and making a fist to aim at his abductee’s face. Willow gasped and tried to pull away, but –

WHUDD!

Someone had punched Connor before he could get his hit in – someone who’d flown down the stairs ahead of the police; someone who now sat on the older boy, pinning him to the floor.

It was Malachi Eiken, Willow’s youngest (and biggest) sibling.

“HEY, YOU PIECE OF TRASH. YOU MESS WITH MY SISTER, AND I’LL MESS WITH YOUR FACE, GOT IT?”

The law arrived and carted Connor away. Willow walked with her brother out to where her bike was. “Mal, how did you get here so quick? I mean, I sent you the same text I sent the officers – and you arrived before them! Weren’t you at home already?”

He smirked back at her. “You must not have believed me when I said I would help protect you, sis. On days you have these after school meetings, I hang around campus until you’re through. As you ride your bike home, I follow on mine. When you sent your message I was just outside the main entrance; I kept one of the doors propped open in case I needed to get in.”

“I – I had no idea you were doing all that!”

“Well … I didn’t want you to feel I was being a pest, or overprotective. So I’ve been kinda sneaky about it.”

“Let’s get something straight, little bro. I would be proud to bike or walk anywhere with you beside me. You are not a pest. Is there anything I can do to express my thanks for your heroics today?”

Mal’s eyes lit up. “You could make me my own batch of your homemade cookies! Please?”

“Why sure! In fact, there’s plenty left at home – I made 3 dozen yesterday. Why don’t you take twelve of them as yours?”

“Umm … because they’re already gone. Mom, Dad and Angie got some, but I ate most of them. I sure would like some more, though.”

Willow chuckled, amused and amazed at her brother’s bottomless pit stomach. “I’ve changed my mind. You ARE a pest! But I’m still proud to be seen with you.”

~o~O~o~

It was 3:30 pm; another day of school over. Willow unchained her bike for the ride home. Her phone suddenly buzzed indicating a text. It was the 9 year old trans girl from church she’d been secretly communicating with.

Willow – you free?

Amanda! 3 days since last mssg?! Been worried. Wanted text u but I never sure if yr Dad is around r not. R U ok?

Oh, I’m the same. Feel better when talk 2 u.

Did u get ur Mom alone 2 talk?

Too scared 2 – she always sides with Dad! So I got my older sis 2 talk w/ her. You kno. About TG people in general.

And???

Mom told her that it’s a sin; TG people R mentally ill, going 2 hell unless they change. So no it did NOT go well. Don’t know what to do!

U sound pretty desperate

I am

Desperate enough 2 end it all?

You mean like running away?

No, I meant ending ur life. Suicide.

R U saying I should think about it?

NO! YOU NEVER EVER SHOULD! YOU WILL COME THROUGH THIS – trust me! But plz answer question – have you been thinking about suicide, even a little?

Maybe a little.

GF we need to get u 2 talk 2 an adult. Will u go to ur school counselor? I’ve already called and checked her out – I didn’t use ur name, but told her ur problem. She’s ready 2 help – you just need 2 drop by her office during lunch. Will u do that?

She’s going to make me talk 2 my Dad isn’t she. O God.

Not at first - and not EVER if he puts u in danger. Will u meet with her? Gonna keep asking til I get answer.

Okay I will

When

Next semester?

Amanda!

OKOK. Tomorrow

And u text me ASAP after?

I promise

Holding u to it! Love you GF. Hang in there. It gets better; might get worse before it does, but WILL get better eventually.

Promise?

Yes

Now I’M holding U to THAT. CU Sunday!

B there or B square

?? is that something old people say?

Yep. My Grandpa used to say it 2 me all the time, before the Alzheimer’s. I think square used to mean basic in his day. BYE.

~o~O~o~

William Eiken rushed into the house from his garage. It had been a busy day at his orthodontist practice – and then as he’d finished the last patient, he got a text from his daughter Willow …

Poppa come home ASAP! Grandpa spazzing out – Momma & Angie & I can’t control him, all r crying! HELP!

“Honey?” the dad yelled into the main hallway. “Willow? Angie! I’m here – where is everyo-“

“P-poppa,” Willow blubbered, her head now sticking out of the door to Grandpa’s bedroom. Her eyes were red and mascara outlined the tear streams down her cheeks. “Over here!”

William ran in to a distressing scene. His father-in-law, Grandpa John, was in the bed on his back - being held there by Gwen, Angie and Willow. The mother had ahold of his arms, and each daughter held a leg down. He emitted growls and hisses instead of formed words, and a huge fresh bruise was on his chin.

“He’s been confused all day,” sobbed Gwen. “He wants to walk but keeps falling – see his chin? - and he won’t sit in a wheelchair. I can’t let go of his arms or he’ll take a swing at us. Angie got punched in the stomach! I don’t know what to do – I’ve been trying to hold on until you got home, but I’m … I … I’m at my wit’s end. God, honey, I can’t do this anymore! He’s gotten so bad – faster than what his doctor …” Gwen’s voice dissolved into wracking sobs now, ones that convulsed her whole body.

William grabbed the old man’s legs to relieve his daughters. “Angie! Are you hurt?”

“I’ll be okay, I think. I really need to throw up now, though,” she said stumbling towards the bathroom.

"Where's Malachi?"

"Still at cross-country racing practice," his wife cried.

“Willow – is your phone still on you?”

The young girl wiped some tears away with her hands. “Yeah, Poppa.”

“Call 911 for an ambulance, NOW. I want him taken to the nearest ER. And we’ll follow in the car – I need to get your sister looked at there, too.”

~o~O~o~

The emergency room waiting area was packed full of sick people, suggesting that the
gurneys inside were full also. It was no surprise that the ER doc seemed to be running from patient to patient, and he burst into the exam room holding the Eiken clan. He was an Asian man in blue scrubs and tennis shoes, with a white coat and a stethoscope draped around his neck. He approached Gwen.

“Your father has a bladder infection. I’ll bet that’s why his mental state deteriorated so rapidly today. Normally we could treat this at home with antibiotic pills, but seeing as he’s been so combative and resistant – he refuses to swallow any meds we’ve offered him – he needs admission, and possibly some temporary restraints.”

He turned to Angela, who sat in a chair rubbing her tender tummy. “Young lady, your CT scan looks normal, so you’re probably OK to go home – but any new developments like blood in your stool or worsening vomiting, and I want you right back here. Don’t try to eat yet; just keep hydrated with watery liquids for the next day.”

“When will you be sending Grandpa back home?” asked Willow.

The doctor furrowed his brow with concern. “Is your home the best place for him?”

“We’re his family!” Gwen gasped. “It’s our duty to take care of him!”

“And thank God you haven’t shirked from it. But from the story of how much you all have to do for him, I’m wondering if his needs are beginning to overwhelm you.”

“Don’t be concerned about us,” Gwen fumed as she sat on a stool next to her father’s gurney. “I only want what’s best for Dad!”

The doctor nodded his head, and squatted down to get eye-to-eye with her. “Believe it or not ma’am, that’s exactly what I want too. He needs two things: nursing care and his family’s love. You’re so busy filling the first job that you have little energy to do the second; and that’s the one you absolutely cannot delegate to anybody else.”

~o~O~o~

One week later, the family drove away from the parking lot of Springhaven Nursing Facility and Alzheimer’s Unit.

“I feel like a failure,” Gwen sniffed as her eyes moistened. “I promised Dad years ago that I wouldn’t let him be placed in a nursing home. And now I’ve done just that.”

“Honey – this is for his sake more than ours,” replied William “If he kept falling, something really bad was going to happen – bleeding in his brain, a broken hip or pelvis or spine. You can’t watch him 24 hours a day – and they can, with a fresh set of nurses coming on duty every 8 hours. You’re planning to do lunch with him daily, and the rest of us will visit him as much as we can during the week.”

“But I promised!” Gwen bawled.

“Honey – shhh, shh. It’s OK. Listen carefully to what I say now.” He spoke with depth and authority – the rest of the family fell quiet as he uttered:

“You’re under no obligation to keep a promise that’s going to harm the person you made the promise to.”

The car continued down the road in silence, all the occupants digesting the father’s words.

“That … that makes sense,” whispered Gwen.

“Wow. I’m remembering that one,” Willow whispered to Angie in the back seat.

~o~O~o~

Father Wilson was praying in his office at Chula Vista Episcopal. He glanced at the clock.

5:41. It’s almost time, Lord. This is the father of the child Willow Eiken told me about, the one she's secretly counseling via phone texts. I pray for your peace to be on them and me. Soften their hearts and guide my words.

The office intercom beeped. “Father – the Guidrys are here; all four, as you requested. However, the father wants only he and his wife in here with you to begin the session … is that …?”

“That’s fine, Darlene. Send Phillip and Rebecca in. Please watch the children in the waiting area while we talk.”

Right away a handsome man and an attractive woman, both thirty-something in age, entered. The man smiled as he and the father shook hands; then a mild frown appeared on his face. “I got the phone call saying to meet you here, Father. What’s this about? Is it good news, bad, what?”

“Phil, Becca … I received a concerned report from one of our Sunday School teachers. It involves your son.”

The 2 parent’s mouths both dropped. “Did Toby do something wrong?” queried the father.

“He’s not acting up or behaving badly. He’s just extremely withdrawn, and takes no joy out of life – according to Ms. Saldana, who teaches his class." I asked her to evaluate Toby after Willow talked to me - but that's information you'd best not know, he thought as he spoke. "She took Toby aside last Sunday and did a formal assessment for signs of abuse and mood disorder. She found no evidence of the former – but your son appears clinically depressed, and has even considered suicide. Your quick intervention is critical; he needs professional help from a child psychiatrist.”

“Who are you to tell me that my son needs a shrink?” bellowed Phil.

“Our teachers are trained to pick up signs of danger in their students. The church leadership insists they all be certified for this. Now: I’ve checked, and there is a child specialist who could see him Thursday. I strongly urge you to take Toby in for this, Phil.”

Phil’s wife was trembling some, and staring down at the floor. “Honey,” she whispered, “maybe we – “

“NO. NO HE’S NOT SEEING A PSYCH, AND THAT’S FINAL,” Phil yelled, slamming his hand down on his knee for emphasis.

“Why are you so angry about this suggestion?” questioned the Father.

Phil shook his head. “I guess I can tell you – I know you’ll be on my side in this matter, at least. Look, transsex, transgender … everything and anything ‘trans’ – is trendy now. Pediatricians are starting to give medicine to stop puberty in kids as young as 9 now – Toby’s age! Yet what I’ve read says that many kids outgrow this compulsion when they get past their teens. My son’s already got it in his mind that he’s a girl, and I don’t need other adults reinforcing that belief!”

“Phil – if your child is even just playing with the idea of suicide, then we need to intervene. You don’t have to commit him to a gender change to deal with that.”

“Father, you have my answer – NO. Come on, Becca. We’re leaving.”

“Phil!” barked Father Wilson in a volume that made both parents jump. “If you ignore my suggestion, I’ll be forced to call Child Protective Services. Toby is in danger, and you’re not seeking help.”

“You – you’d do that to us, to my kid?”

“Ahem. No, he won’t,” spoke Becca, now with some strength and resolve. “Because, Phillip, I’m going to take Toby to this psych doctor. I’ll be damned – sorry, Father – if I let my child kill himself when I could have prevented it.” She now glared angry eyes towards her husband.

Phil was now seething and steaming, shaking his head as he wrung his hands together. He stood up out of the chair he’d been in and began to pace about the room, mental gears appeared spinning furiously. Finally some words spilled out of his twitching mouth.

“Okay. He can be evaluated for DEPRESSION. But NO discussion about gender things!”

“We’ll see,” muttered his wife.

“Damn right we’ll see,” answered Phil. “I’m headed back to the office to get some files I’ll need to work on tonight. I’ll meet you and the kids back home. What time is supper?”

“Shooting for six. I’m probably just grabbing a rotisserie chicken and some sides at the grocery deli.”

Phil grumbled almost inaudibly and stomped out, slamming the door to the room. Becca sighed, closed her eyes and shook her head in frustration. She grabbed her purse and started to stand, only to see Father Wilson hold up his hand as he mouthed “wait”. Then he spoke in a whisper. “Rebecca – I’ve never seen him so angry, so intimidating. Are you and your kids safe? Are you in danger at all from him?”

“He’s … well, he’s never laid a hand on me, nor the kids – to my knowledge.”

“Is he threatening or overly controlling? Verbally abusive?”

“Father – we’re fine. I’m resolved to hold this family together, and going down this path of questions isn’t helping.” She then rose and turned towards the door. As she stepped out, her husband stepped back in.

“Hey. Before I leave, I need to tell you something else. Some of us church members have been talking to each other, and we’re concerned. As you well know, our congregation split from the national Episcopalian leadership on the subject of gay marriage and gays in leadership positions. We still hold to the biblical position that those things are wrong. But lately some people are attending our church and flaunting their LGBT positions – and our leaders, specifically YOU, haven’t done anything to address it.”

“Hm. When you say ‘some people’, Mr. Guidry, who do you mean specifically?”

“That Eiken boy. The one who dresses like a woman and now calls himself Willow. Surely you’ve noticed him, or at least heard of him? He comes here Sunday mornings in dresses and makeup, sits in the balcony. His parents don’t seem bothered in the least by it! One of my friends - Sam Fredricks - confronted the boy a few weeks ago at church, but it hasn’t stopped him from doing his crossdressing act.”

“Phil. I have indeed spoken to that young man and his mother, and told them I do not think it is God’s will for him to dress that way. This hasn’t changed their minds, as you can see. What more are you wanting me to do?”

“Condemn this perversion from the pulpit. Let the Eikens and any other LGBT’ers know that they are not welcome here unless they repent from their sexual deviancy and act as the scriptures prescribe. Please do this soon, Father. Otherwise, I and my family – as well as the others I spoke of – will seek another church to attend. We’ll take our financial support with us, too. Do you understand?”

Father Wilson sat silently, staring at Mr. Guidry. Finally he whispered “yes”. He continued to sit motionless for a good ten minutes after his congregant left the office.

~o~O~o~

To be continued tomorrow.

If you've made it this far, please leave a comment! Don't make me reach through the screen and tweak your nose!

Thanks for reading!

“Maybe if someone warned you early, before you ‘lose it’, then you could stop it. I can tell when you’re starting to get too irritated.”

“What? You can? How?”

“Your cheeks get flushed. It can be seen even through your daily makeup. Sometimes you’ll frown, or sigh, or wrinkle your brow – but the most reliable indicator is a red face, especially the cheeks.”

~o~O~o~

Saturday nights in the El Paso autumn meant watching college football to many; it was fun to cheer the UTEP (U. of Texas – El Paso) Miners as they played on Sun Bowl field. Bernard Andujar and Willow Eiken could see the lights emanating from the stadium from their vantage point at the nearby drive-in carhop eatery. Staying in his El Camino afforded more privacy so they could talk about things.

“OOF! The chili on that coney dog was extra spicy tonight. I’ll probably have some vivid dreams tonight after I go to bed,” Bern burped.

“Do you remember your dreams after you wake up?” asked Willow.

“Most of the time? No. Sometimes I do. Why?”

“Do you ever dream about me?”

“OH yeah. Mostly in my daydreams. MMmmm. Yellow bikini bod.”

“Psh! I’m a little frustrated with my body now, to be truthful.”

“Maybe you just need reminding of just how hot you are. Short and cute, with that long black hair that’s now down to your chest. Your sensitive boobs with those hard nipples, and of course your awesome butt and hips that I love to run my hands over. And when you smile, it brightens up my rainiest day.”

“My boobs are too small. I need implants.”

Bern choked on his cola. “Wha – NO! Please don’t do that, Willow!”

She was confused now. “Don’t you want me to look hot for you? Won’t I turn you on more with big D-cup breasts?”

“Willow. You remember the blonde I took to prom? She had implants.”

“You mean Stunning Sandy? Yeah. She has a really nice rack, as I used to say when I was Bill. That didn’t attract you?”

“Willow … breast implants aren’t the real thing. A guy can feel them in there; I can feel the edges at the base a lot of times. And implants don’t look or hang like natural breasts. I just don’t prefer them. And on most women, those falsies aren't good for life; after ten years they bust, or turn hard, or any number of things that really are a turn off. Then you've got to get 'em replaced or removed. Mom had implants, and she said they turned rock hard after 8 years; they became so uncomfortable she to get them taken out. Even if yours don’t grow one more bit, I’d rather you just keep what you have.”

“But there’s not much there for you to play with!”

“There is, baby. And you know what the French say, right? A mouthful is all that’s necessary.”

"Ha! Well, I'm thankful that you don't have a big mouth," she laughed. "So, is there anything else that attracts you to me? I keep worrying that there's nothing I can do for you that some natural born girl couldn't do better."

Bern squinted as if concentrating, and looked out into the sky. "How do I describe this? Um ... your peaks fill my valleys. And vice versa."

"What does that mean? Are you talking about my hips, or butt, or -"

"No, Willow. I mean you - boy, this sounds sappy - you complete me. Your strengths kind of fill up the holes and flaws in my character - and I think my best points help fill any shortcomings you have. As guys, that made us great friends. Now as BF and GF, it makes us a fantastic couple. I think that we could accomplish anything in life, as long as we did it together."

Willow was warm with affection now, but still had concerns. "Back when I was Bill, I kind of gave the orders and you carried them out. That sounds more to me like an employer/employee relationship than a friendship. I mean, I don’t order you around like that now, but … were you happy with that?"

“You know, Willow … I’m great at following directions. I can absolutely accomplish a task, if I’m guided in when/where/how to do it. But if I have to organize the plan, and give the orders? That’s not my strong suit. And you are great at making a plan. That scheme to get Angie away from Rico and those hoods? Pure genius. All I had to do was follow your instruction. Together we're an unbeatable team; and yes, that makes me very very happy."

“Bern … if we stay together, I'm worried I'll just be a dead weight holding you back. I don't have a plan for my life. The only thing I know how to do is be a drug dealer!”

“Have you really tried doing anything else?”

“Hm. No. But !'m at a loss for thoughts. How do my talents translate into a real legit job?”

“I don’t know. I’m not the plan maker, remember? But I know there's an answer somewhere out there. Don't give up hope, babe. Have you talked with with the Montclair High career lady? Maybe she's got an idea.”

“The Guidance Counselor. Yeah, Dr. Estrada talked about me seeing her too. That sounds like a good next step."

"Just trust, babe. Trust in our love, and in your Higher Power. The answer is out there. Like Fox and Mulder said."

"You mean 'The Truth Is Out There'. That was the X-Files motto. You're such a nut!" Willow held her tummy as she threw her head back in a big, giggling laugh. "Oh, Bern. Now you’ve done it; you’ve lifted my spirits again. Can I have a taste of the spicy chili?”

“Umm … I already ate all of the chili dog.”

“There’s a little left on your lip,” she whispered as she got close and licked his mouth, then proceeded into a deep sexy kiss.

~o~O~o~

Willow was back home when she got a text notification on her phone.

Amanda! Howzit going friend?

Great day so fa; went 2 counselor @ school like u said 2 and she was so cool! Really wants 2 help. Said she would even talk 2 'rents for me – prob this week. So nervous! But feel some hope now

Thass good! Tell me more!

…

Manda?

…

Amanda u still there?

This is Willow, right? Bill and Gwen Eiken’s kid?

?? Umm … Who’s this?

Are you Willow or not?

Yes I am

I’m Mr. Guidry, Toby’s father. I saw him on his phone and grabbed it to see who he was texting with. Are you and your parents home? Need to talk to you in person.

I’m home and Momma is too. Poppa’s still at work. Sir instead of coming here can you just call my Momma? I can give u her cell #.

On my way. Stay there.

Willow numbly stared at her phone screen for a few seconds as she held her breath. Then she gasped “Omigod!! Momma – MOMMA, HELP! WE HAVE A SITUATION COMING, AND HE SOUNDS TICKED OFF!”

~o~O~o~

An angry man drove up to the Eiken’s front gate with his young son strapped into the passenger side of his Cadillac Escalade. He rolled down his window and punched the intercom button. “Hello? Mrs. Eiken – Gwen, are you there? Phil Guidry from church here – just need to talk to you in person. It’s about your kid – you know, the transvestite. So please let me in, and let’s talk inside.”

“Let’s not,” answered Gwen, driving up to the closed gate on her golf cart from the inside of the property. Willow rode with her. “You look mad, Phil. I’d prefer my husband to be home before I meet with you in your current state. Or you can just stay over there and we can talk through the gate. Your choice.”

“Stay in the car, Toby,” barked the man as he exited the ‘Caddy and walked up to the gate. “Gwen, you look nice. And my, isn’t your son as cute as a bug.” He scowled towards Willow as she sat in the cart, wearing jeans and a pink T-shirt that had overlapping white heart patterns.

“Let me guess what this is about,” replied Gwen as she redirected the conversation. “Willow has been communicating with Toby via text, and you’re upset about it.”

“Really? Upset? Whatever gave you that impression? Of COURSE I am, dammit! If you want to raise your son to change his sex, then fine but KEEP IT TO YOURSELF. I don’t need any of my family infected with this shit!”

“Watch your language please, Phil. We are supposed to be Christians, after all. As I understand it, your child sought out mine – that’s how they got to know each other. And I’ve done a quick scan of their texts; it looks like Willow is only encouraging your boy to reach out for help, and speaking words of encouragement. What’s so bad about that?”

“I’m confiscating Toby’s phone, and YOU,” – he pointed directly to Willow – “YOU are to NEVER have contact with him again, you hear? Or so help me God I will find a way to hurt you; physically, financially, socially – SOME way.”

“I’m not quite sure I got what you meant there,” quipped Willow.

“THEN LET ME BE CLEAR, PERVERT. YOU STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM MY SON AND MY FAMILY, OR I WILL BEAT YOU TO A BLOODY PULP. DID YOU GET THAT?”

Willow lifted her smartphone up high and pushed a button. A video of the Phil at the front gate came on, as he said “ … OR I WILL BEAT YOU TO A BLOODY PULP. DID YOU GET THAT?”

“Yes sir, I did,” smiled Willow as she wiggled her phone at him. “I got all of it.”

“Now it’s my turn to get mean, Phil,” said Gwen in a shaking but resolute voice. “I’m taking that video to the police, and filing a restraining order against you. And I’m calling Child Protective Services; pretty sure they’ll want to see it too.”

~o~O~o~

“Well, that was Becca Guidry, Toby’s – I mean, Amanda’s – mom,” related Gwen as she placed her phone back in her purse. “She was shocked and hurt to hear what her husband threatened. She’s taking both her kids and they’re leaving to stay in the Residence Inn; Phil’s alone in their big house now. Their family needs prayer and tons of counseling. I hope it works out for Amanda; heck, even for Phil.”

“Wow, Momma,” sighed Willow. “His face! Is that how I looked when I got out of control?”

“Are you kidding?” Gwen laughed. “THAT was NOTHING compared to ‘Angry Bill’s’ rages! I only handled this because you’ve put me through a lot worse. But since you raised the subject … how is that old anger problem? I know you’ve been better since you became my daughter, but does it ever come back like it did with Rico at the coffee shop?”

“Oh, sometimes,” Willow hemmed, deciding against telling her Momma about the bike-in-the-road episode. “The problem is that it comes on so fast! I don’t realize I’ve gotten out of control until it’s too late.”

“Maybe if someone warned you early, before you ‘lose it’, then you could stop it. I can tell when you’re starting to get too irritated.”

“What? You can? How?”

“Your cheeks get flushed. It can be seen even through your daily makeup. Also, sometimes you’ll frown, or sigh, or wrinkle your brow – but the most reliable indicator is a red face, especially the cheeks.”

“I … I had no idea!”

“Even your Poppa and Angie have seen it. Sometimes I’ve even warned them to keep their distance because you’ve gone crimson. How about I tell you when it’s happening?”

“So I can abort the coming meltdown?”

“Exactly. This will be the code phrase: ‘Willow, your face is red.’ That means STOP. Take a break, call a friend or your sponsor, laugh at the situation – just anything besides letting the irritation fester.”

“Sounds like a plan. Anything to avoid tossing my bike in the street again.”

“Wait! Wha – aaat? What are you talking about?”

“Gaaah!” Willow groaned, slapping her palm against her forehead. One day I’ll learn. I should always be open and honest, especially since I can’t keep a dang secret anyway.

~o~O~o~

William Eiken was in the middle of adjusting a patient’s upper braces when his assistant interrupted him.

“Doctor, you’ve got a call – from your minister, at church. He says he urgently needs a few seconds of your time.”

“I’ll be back in a sec, Ms. Stratelli,” he said as he walked out of the room and over to the front desk phone. “Hello – Dr. Eiken here. Is this Father Wilson?“

“Yes, William. Sorry to interrupt you. Are you planning to come to church this Sunday?”

“Of course. We won’t be out of town or anything. Why?”

“I need you and all of your family there when I give the morning sermon. I know your wife has missed services recently due to her needing to stay home with her father; if possible, can someone else take that duty so she can be here too?”

“Grandpa John no longer stays with us; as of last Tuesday, he’s in an Alzheimer care facility. Father, what’s this all about? This feels like bad news. Are we being disciplined? Does any of this have to do with Willow?”

“Yes, to the Willow part. No one’s being scolded. But there are some concerns I am going to address publicly – some tensions and unrest that need to get dealt with. I will not go into it over the phone; I just need your commitment to be present.”

“Father. Please tell me you’re not going to hang Willow – and my family – out to dry.”

“William ,” assured the minister. “I’m asking you to trust me. I know you feel some alarm with this mysterious call, but if you’ve ever trusted me before, I need you to do so even more now. Please.”

The orthodontist took a big breath and exhaled. “Okay. We’ll all be there. I’ll trust you, Father; but will have a ‘plan B’ just in case. It involves sitting next to the aisle, so we can beat a hasty retreat if things get nasty.”

“That’s fine, Will. I’ll see you Sunday.”

~o~O~o~

The Career Guidance Counselor for Montclair High was encouraged to hear a knock on her door, especially since it came just 4 minutes after the end-of-the-school-day bell rang.

“Come in,” she chirped.

“Ms. Steinberg? It’s me –“

“Willow Ramos, correct? Thanks for being so prompt! Some students leave me to cool my heels for a good 20-30 minutes before they finally show up. How can I help you, young lady? Most kids wait until their senior year before they come to me for career direction; you’re just a junior.”

“Um – first of all, let me put all my cards on the table. I’m –“

“A transitoning girl, right? An ‘M to F’ transgender student. I haven’t been living in a cave, cutie; the whole school’s aware of you. I’ve read up on your history and grades in prep for our meeting, so I know more about you than you realize. How is the year going here at school? Teachers treating you okay?”

“Oh yeah – especially Ms. Moscowitz in geometry. She’s awesome.”

“I heard about the awful near-assault from Connor Irving. Any more bullying or threats?”

“No, not at all, amazingly. It’s been a good first couple of months here. The biggest problem is most people avoid me like the plague; making friends has been a little tough.”

“Part of that is your transition; but part of it is likely because of who you used to be.”

“Used to be? You mean when I was Bill?”

“Not just Bill; Willy. Willy the Dude, drug dealer, and rage monster, someone you didn’t dare cross. The scuttlebutt going around on you is that you still can get upset at times, though you don’t lose it as bad as in the past. When your face gets scarlet, everyone stays away from you.”

Willow gaped. “How is it everybody knew about my red cheeks, and I just found out recently??”

“We’re all blind to ourselves the most, honey. That’s why you need friends; some people to keep you grounded, who won’t tolerate any poop from you. Why don’t you reach out and take the first step – join a club, try out for a sport, invite someone to just hang with you? Speaking of clubs, the Spanish club is trying to recruit more members. Your last name is Ramos – do you speak the language at all?”

“Just enough to get by. Wow, I appreciate your interest in my social health. I’ll try to reach out more. But the reason I’m here is I don’t know what to do with my life; the only thing I was ever good at was dealing drugs.”

Willow recounted her concerns that she’d spoken of with Bernard during their chili dog date. Ms. Steinberg asked some more questions too; then stopped and jotted down a few notes as her visitor watched.

“So … am I only fit to flip burgers or be a supermarket cashier?” the girl fretted.

“Don’t count on the grocery thing. Technology is advancing so fast, human cashiers will become obsolete in the next 10 years. No, my young friend – I think you’re destined to be a businesswoman.”

Willow’s jaw dropped. “What? How so?”

“The things you did when you dealt drugs – setting up a supply and distribution chain, making contacts and contracts, keeping your promises – those are business skills. You appear to be a genius at networking. You just need to do it for a legitimate business, not narcotics.”

“But - what kind of business?”

“You can leave that up to someone else. Businesspeople are experts at taking another’s dreams and making them reality. You don’t have to have the initial vision. Why don’t you take some college level courses next year, maybe do an internship this summer? Yeah, you’re only 16, but you’re precocious. I’ll see what strings I can pull. How does that sound?”

“Like I might actually have a purpose!” Willow exulted.

~o~O~o~

Malachi Eiken was spending his Saturday in a most inglorious manner – on the toilet. Every 15 – 20 minutes, having to have a movement; although the last 3 had been mostly liquid diarrhea. He exited the bathroom yet again, looking drawn and tired. As he stepped out into the hall, he was met by the younger of his two sisters carrying a big glass of sports ‘ade’ on ice.

“Here, Mal – you need to stay hydrated. You washed your hands good, right?” fretted Willow.

“Yeah, I did. Thanks for the drink. I dunno what’s happened – food poisoning, maybe?”

“Maybe you ate too many of the double chocolate chip cookies I made this morning.”

“I ate ALL of them. You know I can’t control myself when you bake sweet stuff. But I didn’t start with the shits until a few hours later. And this has never happened to me before – with ANY type of food.”

“Who knows, bro. Maybe it’s the type of flavoring I used. Cocoa syrup, choco chips, and – oh, yeah, I remember now – chocolate flavored laxative. Like, a triple dose.”

Mal’s face, already ghostly, turned a whiter shade of pale. “You POISONED me??”

“I medicated you – well, overmedicated. You’ve got only yourself to blame! I can’t cook sweets for the rest of the family, because you steal and scarf them up before anyone else has a chance! I’ve warned you the last few times not to do that; Monday I almost had an anger meltdown over it. Thank God Mom was around to help me stop that.”

“So I ate all your Monday cookies. Big deal!”

Willow shook her head. “Monday was Bernard’s birthday. Those were to be his present. I left a big note on the platter warning everyone of that.”

“Bern’s … birthday? Oh crap,” moaned Mal. “Sis – I’m sorry. I didn’t read the note beyond the DON’T EAT. Are … are you still mad at me?”

Willow’s face relaxed with a smile and a sympathetic look. “Anger doesn’t work for me; it just hurts me and those I love. Now, revenge … that works,” she laughed. “I just made this special batch and left another DON’T EAT note; and no one did, except you. So drink plenty of fluids; I’ll bet the rest of the day you and “cousin John” are gonna be close friends. And in the future don’t let me hear of you ever taking more than your fair share of my cookies, because I know of many ways to get even.”

“You’re so full of crap,” he smirked – then his eyes opened wide with panic, and he grabbed his tummy.

“Can't say the same for you,” snickered Willow as Mal ran for the toilet again.

~o~O~o~

To be continued tomorrow.

If you've made it this far, please leave a comment! Don't make me reach through the screen and tweak your nose!

Thanks for reading!

“Momma?” breathed a voice into Gwen Eiken’s ear.

There was no response, just the continuing slow breathing of sleep.

“Momma … wake up,” the whisper continued, slightly louder and more urgent.

“Hmph. Uhmmm … wha’s … huh? Willow? What’s going on, baby?”

The only answer given was Willow’s left ring finger, illuminated by a cell phone glow.

~o~O~o~

That Saturday evening two young lovers sat in a dirt-brown El Camino at Overlook Park in El Paso. Both munched on take-out as the sun set and the valley lights slowly turned on.

“Mmmm. This warm Whataburger really hits the spot on this chilly night. And look at the gorgeous sunset,” said Bern, mouth half-full.

“Reminds me of our first date,” Willow sighed.

“Me too. Except the sun sets so early now, off of daylight savings time. I can tell it’s gotten colder in just the last half hour.”

“Yeah. I’m pretty shivery, even with my coat and gloves and toboggan on. Don’t know if I’m up to much skin exposure later. Unless … are your folks home?”

“Yes. Yours?”

“Of course. Nuts! I’m getting pretty impatient, following everyone’s rules about what we’re supposed to do. Physically, I mean. How are we gonna wait another year and a half, Bern?”

“You don’t graduate Montclair High until then, true; but you’ll be 17 years old just this summer. In Texas, that’s adult age. Then we can legally go as far as we want.”

“But Bern; we go to church at Chula Vista. They frown on sex outside of marriage. And I kinda promised my folks I’d wait until my honeymoon. You know how I have to keep my word to stay abstinent from alcohol and drugs; guilt screws up my emotional state.”

“So … I have a suggestion. What if we got married this summer, after your birthday?”

Willow tilted her head. “You mean before my senior year? I’m not dropping out of school!”

“I know, baby. So finish high school; just attend your last year as a married woman. My wife.”

“Bern … have you thought this through? This is starting to feel like your Denny’s vending-machine-ring proposal.”

“This time I prepared, girl. I’ve put lots of thought into this, and did some research. Your school allows married students to attend, no problem. My salary at the auto shop is enough for us both to live in an apartment. We’ve been talking about getting hitched eventually. And I’ve been saving up for … this.”

He reached into his jacket pocket and produced a small felt cube, which he opened to produce a modest but definite diamond ring. “Willow Ramos, will you do me the honor of being my wife?”

Willow had stopped breathing and started shaking – not from the cold, but shock. “Bern – what if Poppa and Momma say no?”

Her beau smiled. “I already asked your folks for their blessing to do this; I met with them at your dad’s office last week. They both said yes!”

“I say yes too! Yes-yes-yes-yes-yes! Yes times INFINITY!” she bawled, as she once again became Weeping Willow.

~o~O~o~

After a long time of kissing and petting, the young lovers sat on the bench seat of the Camino, their arms embraced and their minds dreaming.

“What kind of a wedding would you like to have?” asked Bernard. “Church, backyard, huge, small … ?”

Willow grinned. “Believe it or not, JP. Justice of the Peace, at the courthouse. I never had a dream of having a huge, fluffy princess ceremony. A JP will be much cheaper, and we’ll under the radar. Not to mention we can have a great honeymoon using the money we saved from a huge wedding.”

“But your Mom told me once she’d overheard you wanted a big wedding with a white dress and a honeymoon in Tahiti.”

The young transgirl gave her beau a quizzical look. “I don’t remember saying that. Wait. Oh! Yes I do remember! My biological dad called me up months ago and threatened to disown me if I stayed a girl. I told him that I was going to have a dream wedding and honeymoon – in an attempt to get under his skin. I didn’t really mean that it was what I wanted. Okay?”

“Okay. Where should we honeymoon?”

“You go first on this one.”

“South Padre Island? Maybe a VRBO down there?”

“I like the beach idea. And they have a waterpark there too, like the one me and my family visited on our float trip to New Braunfels this last summer.”

“Sounds like a plan. Maybe that can be our wedding gift from my Dad.”

“Umm … Bern?”

“Yeah, Baby?”

“I haven’t had SRS yet. Dr. Estrada prob won’t approve it ‘til I’m 18. You’d have to live at least a year with a wife who’s got a … “

“Dick. Yeah. Does that bug you, Willow?”

Her eyes almost popped out of her skull. “What?? The big question here is you, not me! But since you’ve asked, it does bug me a little; I want a vagina! I can’t wait to be Willow completely. Ready to leave Bill and all of his hang-ups behind me. But back to you: do you … want me to have a penis when we marry?”

“Not necessarily; I, too, want you to have a box*. But I’m a patient man, and there are plenty of other things we can do. I don’t think I’m open to you going inside me, but everything else is at least discussable. I mainly want you, Willow. I want to live with and love on my best friend, the girl who completes me. I’m sooo ready for that.”

“Bern, you ought to be on Jeopardy,” she whispered as she neared her lips toward his, “because you always give the right answers, did you know that?”

*Slang for vagina

~o~O~o~

She ended her fantastic date that night with long minutes of kissing at the front door, then sighed dreamily as she watched her new fiancé drive off into the night.

Her sister met her as she came in. “Wow, Willow. You look a little dazed. Are you okay?”

“I might need to see a doctor, sis. I’m lightheaded and giddy, and feel like laughing, screaming and crying at the same time!”

“Umm … are you on drugs? I’m only half-kidding when I ask that - I’ve never seen you like this!” Angie scowled with suspicion, arms crossed. “Did he give you something to make you high?”

Willow laughed. Oh, I’ve got to have a little bit of fun with this. “Please don’t be disappointed in me, Ang. He offered me some stuff I’ve never had before; in a moment of weakness I took it, and I’ve been on the highest high since. Want to see it? I’ve got it here on my finger,” she said as she held her left hand up.

Angela’s face and body language turned from sour to ecstatic. “OMIGOD! He really did it?!”

Willow nodded emphatically, and both girls embraced and jumped up and down together, squealing and crying for the next few minutes.

“Oh sis. He was so-oo smooth. I had NO idea that this was coming, and then when it did I couldn’t speak for like an eon!”

“So you feel better about it than you did after the Denny’s proposal?”

“No comparison. This was perfect. Well-thought-out, simple, intimate, romantic. And not some big flashy public display – he knows I hate those types of things. And by the way before you ask – the wedding won’t be until after my next birthday. Bern actually already worked that out with Momma and Poppa before asking me!”

“So they knew he was gonna propose tonight?”

“I assume so - but they surely don’t know if I said yes or not, right? Where are they – the den room looks dark; I figured they’d be watching a movie.”

“They’re asleep, sis. They went to bed at 9:30. I wonder if that’s what we’re gonna start doing when we hit our 40’s. But no matter; we’ve got to wake them up and show them your diamond!”

“Ooh,” said a deeper voice, speaking from behind the two sisters. “I wanna see Mom’s face when you show her!”

Both girls turned to look at their brother. “Mal – how long have you been here listening to us?” squeaked Angie.

“Oh, for a minute or so. Both of you were so gone that an earthquake could have hit and you wouldn’t have known.” He smiled big. “So, sis, I see that Bern is off the market, eh? Congratulations!”

“Thanks, Mal. That was sweet of you to say, especially after my ‘revenge’ with the cookies today. Are you back to normal?”

“Me and ‘John’ haven’t had to meet for the last 3 hours – I’m not uncrossing my fingers though. So are you gonna show the ‘rents your ring now, or what?”

~o~O~o~

“Momma?” breathed a voice into Gwen Eiken’s ear.

There was no response, just the continuing slow breathing of sleep.

“Momma … wake up,” the whisper continued, slightly louder and more urgent.

“Hmph. Uhmmm … wha’s … huh? Willow? What’s going on, baby?”

The only answer given was Willow’s left ring finger, illuminated by a cell phone glow.

Gwen snapped to attention; she grabbed her sleeping husband’s shoulder and shook it. “William, wake up! He did it! Our daughter’s wearing a ring! Oh Willow – this is fantastic! Are you happy?”

“I’m over-the-moon happy, Momma,” the newly engaged girl sobbed.

Embraces and tears followed. Angie and Mal were there to share it all; William too, once he finally woke up.

“Bern told me that he met with you guys and both of you agreed to allowing him to propose – I’m amazed! I thought you’d make me wait until I was 18,” the newly engaged girl gushed.

“Well, you’ll be legally an adult when you’re 17, just this next summer,” William said with a smile and a yawn. “I can’t stop you from marrying then, even if I wanted to. And after hearing Bern’s plans for supporting you and allowing you to finish school – let’s just say your Momma and I feel good about this. Right, honey?”

Gwen wiped away a tear or two. “The only ache I have is that I’m losing my new daughter; I haven’t gotten to know you well enough! You guys are going to live in El Paso, right? Will you keep in touch with me, and visit your old frail Momma weekly?

“OLD? Momma, you still stop young men in their tracks when you walk by!”

“Not just adults,” added Mal. “My cross-country friends Eddie and Pablo tell me I’ve got the hottest Mom they’ve ever seen.”

“See? Now do you believe me?” said William, nodding. He turned to the children. “I tell her all the time she’s a super-babe, but she thinks I’m just flattering her.”

“You guys are making me blush,” gasped Gwen.

William laughed. “Okay, okay. It’s hard for you to hear the truth. We’ll shut up-“

“I didn’t say y’all had to stop,” his wife whispered.

~o~O~o~

Willow motored her Buick SUV carefully down the road; after all, she was just in her first year of driving. That’s the year that people are most likely to have an accident, and this was her mother’s car. Furthermore, that parent was riding shotgun and watching her like a hawk.

They pulled up to the entry and the teen punched the remote gate control on the Buick’s panel.

“Wait just a second while I check this,” Gwen yelled as she opened her door and stepped to the mailbox. “Just one letter – or a card. It’s for Angie.”

“Pink envelope. Who’s the card from?” inquired Willow as they rode through the gates.

“Looks like it’s a card for her birthday; hmm, arriving actually a day early. That’s better than his usual one-or-two-weeks-late routine. Does that give you a hint?”

“Oh. It’s from my birth father, Roberto Ramos. Right?”

“Correct-a-mundo.”

“So he sent Angie a birthday card; and sent Mal one last July for his 15th. They got Christmas cards from him last winter. But ever since he disowned me for becoming Willow, he hasn’t acknowledged my existence.”

“That’s to be expected, daughter. You even told him on the phone you were never going to speak to him again. So this should come as no surprise, right? Are you upset at all about it?”

“Nope. Not at all, Momma. I’m fine. Peachy.”

“Umm … Willow,” said Gwen with narrowing eyes, “your face is getting red.”

~o~O~o~

The Eiken family had dinner that night together; afterwards the parents started gathering the dishes while the children went to their rooms to do homework.

“What’s up with Willow? She just stared down at her plate all meal, and didn’t say a word,” fretted William as he ran the sink water.

“She’s had a rough day emotionally. Angie got a birthday card from Roberto, and that set her off. She’s been trying to fight off an anger fit; I’ve talked with her, and she’s called her sponsor and Bernard. But she’s still hurt, badly. We need to pray for God to do something, because I can’t think of anything else to do,” replied Gwen.

“I know something you can do, Poppa.” Willow’s voice came from the kitchen entrance, and both adults spun around to look at her.

“Adopt me.”

William was taken aback. “Okay. It would be an honor. Tell me why you specifically want me to do this – at this point in time.”

“Poppa – you’ve been more of a daddy to me than my birth dad ever was. And I hate Roberto. I hate him! He’s just a lazy, pot-smoking, foul-mouthed sperm donor who despises me. I disgust him. I don’t want his name. He doesn’t deserve me having it! I know I’ll become Willow Andujar when I marry, but I don’t want to have Ramos even as a maiden name!”

William slowly produced an evil smirk with his mouth. “Boy, I bet that would stick in Roberto’s craw – for him to be rejected.”

“That’s what I want. Give him a taste of his own medicine.”

“I see,” nodded William, now sober-faced. “No.”

Both Willow and Gwen did a double take. “No?”

“No, I won’t agree to adopt you. Not for that. The main reason – the ONLY reason – to ask me to take my name on is if you truly want to be my child, legally. It should be done out of love – not hate, or hurt, or revenge. You can change it to anything – Smith, Jones, Hernandez, Chewbacca, Skywalker, whatever. But not my name – not for the wrong reason. Even if Roberto deserves it.”

“D – don’t you want me to be your daughter officially?” Willow’s bottom lip quivered, and she began to sniff back tears.

“Oh Willow,” said her Poppa as he took her in his arms. “I consider you my daughter fully, no matter what some piece of paper says. And in the future, if you wanted the Eiken name for the right reasons only, I’d gladly agree to it. But your heart needs to heal towards Roberto. Believe it or not, you need to forgive him.”

“He doesn’t deserve my forgiveness,” she sniffed, head planted firmly into her father’s shirt sleeve at the crook of his arm.

“I didn’t say he needs you to forgive him. You need you to forgive him. As long as that grudge eats at your soul it will destroy you, not to mention giving your toxic anger a doorway into your life. Don’t hold on to resentment towards him. It will hurt you more than it ever hurts him.”

“I – I don’t know if I can do it,” Willow bawled. “I don’t want to. I wish I wanted to, but I just don’t want to. I can’t forgive unless my heart’s really in it, right? It won’t work!”

“That’s not necessarily so,” William cooed. “Let’s do a little ritual.”

~o~O~o~

In the Eiken living room the fireplace was cradling some burning logs, as a cold front had blown through on this November day. A young woman squatted in front of the fire, holding five pages of legal notebook paper, all heavily written on.

“God,” she prayed, “these are all of the resentments I have against my dad Roberto. They are making my heart and life sick. As an act of my will, I forgive him of these, and I release them to your cleansing flame.”

She threw the pages into the furnace; they lit and burned up to black ashes quickly.

“Okay, God. I did my part. Now I ask you to change my heart; heal it up, and put love where there once was hate. I’m asking you because only you can do it.” She promptly buried her face in her hands and wept.

Gwen and William circled and held her in embrace.

“That was a big time grown-up thing you just did, Willow,” said Poppa

"Poppa ... it still hurts. When does the heartache go away? Did God hear me?"

"It might take months to get better, daughter. If the hurt starts again, repeat your words of forgiveness out loud. But in my experience, within days or weeks you'll start to feel the wound lessen. That's how you'll know total forgiveness is happening."

“So proud,” Momma choked out as she herself teared up. “So proud.”

~o~O~o~

To be continued tomorrow.

If you've made it this far, please leave a comment! Don't make me reach through the screen and tweak your nose!

Thanks for reading!

“Now, we have a person in this congregation who identifies as a woman though she was born male. I have met with her, and told her the traditional view I stated above. She chose to not follow that tradition, and continues to present herself as a female.”

Willow’s blood froze as she noticed several members of the congregation turn and look at her – some with smiles, but more with frowns. Sam Fredricks – the man who had grabbed her arm weeks ago when she first presented as female to church – was one of the frowners.

“Let’s split, babe,” Bernard whispered as he grasped her hand.

“Willow – go. We’ll stay here and handle any flack the haters give us,” her Poppa breathed into her ear.

She shook her head emphatically. “No! I want to hear where he goes with this.”

~o~O~o~

The next Sunday, the Eiken family walked into the foyer of Chula Vista Episcopalian Church a little earlier than usual.

“Bye, Momma. I’m going up to sit with Bernard,” Willow said as she turned to the stairs.

“Wait, Willow. Today I need all of us to sit in the main service on a ground floor pew. Mal, Angie; you’re to stay here too. All the family together. Father Wilson has a special message that involves us,” warned Gwen.

“But Bern-“

“I told him; he’s given the sound board to someone else, and he’ll sit with us – by you, of course. Here we go – everybody scoot into this pew, but make sure we keep bunched to the aisle side.”

“Why the back row? We never sit here,” asked Angie.

“In case we need to leave quickly. I’m not sure what he’s going to say,” shushed Gwen.

“Hey guys,” said a baritone voice.

“Bern!! Come sit by me!” smiled Willow. “Do you know what’s about to happen?”

“Nope – but I’ve got a feeling it might not be good,” Bern whispered.

~o~O~o~

The service proceeded normally, with hymns, recitations, a choir performance, and the introduction of a new charity service the church was partnering with. Then Father Wilson took to the podium to deliver his sermon.

“Good morning, brothers and sisters in Christ. Today, I will speak on some sensitive issues involving our church. This talk will make reference to sexual topics. There are rumors going around, and some people are getting unhappy. If any of you got past the ushers and have young children in the sanctuary here, I suggest you allow them to go to the children’s church wing – now, please.”

The Father paused as any remaining children left the main worship area.

“Most all of you know that over ten years ago this particular congregation – along with many others scattered throughout the country - decided to intentionally break away from the Episcopalian leadership in the USA. It was over the subject of homosexuality; the national leadership decided it was not a sin, and began to endorse and perform gay marriages as well as induct practicing gay ministers into their churches.

“Our official stance here at Chula Vista was that being gay is a choice people make, a lifestyle choice; and that the Holy Bible condemns the gay lifestyle. This is the conclusion our elders and ministers, including myself, came to at that time.

“The scriptures are not as clear regarding intersex/transsexual people. In general, we believe that if God assigned you a clear male or female genitals at birth, then that is the identity you should live as. This belief is more based on tradition than actual bible verse.

“Now, we have a person in this congregation who identifies as a woman though she was born male. I have met with her, and told her the traditional view I stated above. She chose to not follow that tradition, and continues to present herself as a female.”

Willow’s blood froze as she noticed several members of the congregation turn and look at her – some with smiles, but more with frowns. Sam Fredricks – the man who had grabbed her arm weeks ago when she first presented as female to church – was one of the frowners.

“Let’s split, babe,” Bernard whispered as he grasped her hand.

“Willow – go. We’ll stay here and handle any flack the haters give us,” her Poppa breathed into her ear.

She shook her head emphatically. “No! I want to hear where he goes with this.”

“Ahem. I need all eyes on me, please,” Father Wilson boomed with a deep bass voice. Everyone turned back to the front, except one. “You too, Sam. Please,” urged the minister. Mr. Fredricks promptly turned back to face the front, face now pink with embarrassment.

The minister resumed his sermon. “I have been approached by some members of this body who demand that I expel this person from the church; they have threatened to leave and to take their substantial church monetary support with them if I fail to meet their demands. So you can see I have a dilemma here.”

The Father took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes; he then replaced them and peered at the congregation. “I have devoted more study and prayer to this topic, and this crisis, than any other situation in the last 10 years. I believe I have heard from the Lord in my meditation and scripture reading. So please listen closely, now.

“Is being transgender a sin? What about being gay, bi or lesbian? Here’s the answer …

“It shouldn’t matter.”

A number of jaws in the audience dropped open.

“It shouldn’t matter to you because scripture tells us that it is the Holy Spirit’s job alone to bring about conviction and repentance in a person’s heart. It is not your job!

“It shouldn’t matter to you because it is God the Father’s job alone to judge. Would you suggest that you’re better suited for that task than He? No! It’s not your job!

“It shouldn’t matter to you because every one of us here today is a sinner. I doubt anyone can live a full day without committing a sin – at least a white lie, or a mild curse, or a fleeting impure thought. An extra dinner roll you really didn’t need. Lying, cursing, lust and gluttony are sins that will absolutely send you to hell just as sure as murder or sexual sin. All of them require God’s forgiveness. All of them!

“I hear some of you thinking ‘yes, but I don’t flaunt my sin in public’. When you walk in to church severely overweight for the past decade – is that flaunting it? When you actually make eye contact with the girl you’ve been ogling, and lick your lips?

“Some are also thinking ‘Sexual sin is especially bad; it’s called an abomination in the Bible.’ Well, holding resentment in your heart towards anyone – while you seek forgiveness from God for your own misdeeds – that’s an abomination too! And I can guarantee we’ve all done that at some time.

“I’m telling you that we ALL fall short of the glory and righteousness of God. We ALL need His love and forgiveness on a daily basis.”

“So what is our job towards other sinners then? It is this: to love them. And not from a distance. We are to embrace them, encourage them, show kindness, Love them in spite of sin, in spite of any disagreement you have with them. After all, they will have to overlook your sins if they are to love you back!

“Jesus Christ is more than our savior; He’s our example for living. How did he deal with sinners, and outcasts from society? Did he expel them from his midst? Did he demand they repent before he lowered himself to interact with them?”

The minister paused for effect.

“NO HE DID NOT. Instead, he talked with them; walked with them; ate and drank with them, and visited them in their houses and in the bad areas of town. He fed them and healed them. And he loved them as they were. To Jesus, the gospel – the good news he carried – was for them especially. His hours spent with the so-called dregs of society caused a scandal among the religious folks of that time.

“So am I living like Jesus did? I asked myself that question this week. The answer I came to was an emphatic NO. I have allowed myself to get so caught up in the workings of the church and squabbles between staff and members, that I’ve neglected the most important things: caring for the unloved, reaching out to the outcasts, feeding the hungry, healing the sick hearts. When I saw what I had become, I was shocked to my toes - and then, filled with shame.

I have been a hyper-religious Pharisee. Jesus called Pharisees snakes, vipers, arrogant, blind, self-indulgent hypocrites; white-washed tombs, pretty and clean on the outside and full of death inside. These are the only people in the Bible that Jesus was verbally mean to. He warned that they were more in danger of hellfire than the outcasts he met with! I realized this week that I had become one of them. It caused me to immediately fall on my face and weep.

"I then prayed to the Lord with more emotion and desperation than I have in two decades. I begged his forgiveness, and asked him to change my heart inside out. And now, my flock, I ask you the same thing. I have been wrong. I have worried more about offending our donors than ministering God's love. I beg you all, from the bottom of my heart - please forgive me."

The priest then turned away as he brought a handkerchief to his eyes and blotted them. He gently blew his nose. Finally, sniffing, he turned to the podium again.

"When this church started we wanted everyone to come to worship, no matter their beliefs or spiritual state. All would get Jesus’ love with no exclusion. Yet what has happened is that I see many of us wanting to exclude the “LGBT” people from church. It’s almost as if we feel that they are evil, and more than that: contagious. There is almost an attitude that this place – this house of worship – should be a comfortable social gathering, a country club where we can all huddle together with others who feel the way we do. I see this attitude in more and more of us each year. God forgive me, I allowed it to happen.

"So, here’s the big announcement: I’m disbanding the chummy country club. It’s time for this church to be a hospital. I need all of you to cancel your galas and tee times; instead, become nurses to help the Great Physician with his work.

“We will welcome all patients – people abused, rejected, addicted, homeless. People we don’t agree with. They may be unpleasant to some of us. Others may not smell too good. But we will be a refuge, a place of healing, to all. And as we minister to them, we will find our hearts and lives transformed for the better. Many of us who think we’re spiritually healthy may find that we have a serious heart condition called Judgement-itis. Don’t worry; Dr. Jesus can heal that too, and you’re in the right place – his hospital.

“Please hear what I’m about to say now with an open heart and open mind. I … I am not prepared to say that homosexuality and transsexuality are not sins. For now we will still not actively promote the practice of these conditions. But we will no longer reject nor condemn LGBT people. We will embrace them and love them. Talk to ... listen to … and care for them. They will be accepted to attend all church functions if they desire.

“If any here feel that they cannot continue as members here after hearing what I’ve said, well … I cannot physically stop you from leaving. You will be missed; more than that, you will miss out – on things Jesus wants to do in your heart, with your life.

“And to our trans member, I say: you are welcome here. Please feel free to continue to attend Chula Vista, and teach us how to show love to you and others like you. I humbly ask your forgiveness for treating you with disdain on our first few visits.”

“I forgive you, Father,” came a voice from the back of the sanctuary.

Most of the congregation looked to the back row to see what appeared to be a short teen female tastefully dressed in a blue dress with lace adornments. She was standing, beaming a wide grin, and – true to her nickname – weeping.

“Thank you, my child,” replied Father Wilson, with a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Flock; over the next four Sundays, I will outline how we shall put our spiritual hospital into actual practice. I request your patience and attendance as I do so. For now, let’s all rise for the closing recitations and prayer.”

The church did so. Gwen Eiken ran to the podium as soon as the last “amen” was said.

“Let us take you out to lunch, Father.”

“Thank you, Gwen, but I need to go home and lie down. I may not look it, but I’m so emotionally exhausted. Rest is what I need now. Maybe next Sunday?”

“Absolutely,” gushed Willow’s Momma; she gave him a quick hug and went back to her family.

~o~O~o~

The Eikens went out for lunch that Sunday anyway, to the Olive Garden. Bernard came along.

“So, I have mixed feelings,” Bern garbled as he chewed his linguini. “He said the church would accept you, but still says that being trans might be a sin. Are you really happy with that, babe?”

“Yeah … yeah, I am for now,” his girl said, nibbling on a piece of salad. “It’s such an improvement from his previous stance. The Rev’s mind is opening; I think his heart is changing. Hopefully much of the congregation will start to do so too. If God is using me – even in a small way – to help do that, then I don’t dare leave our church now.”

“Daughter, do you realize what you’ve done?” said Gwen. “With your love and courage, and your support of Toby/Amanda, you’ve changed the heart of your minister and the direction of our church! For the better! I’m just amazed with you.”

“As am I,” William agreed. “As am I. So – are we all still happy with Chula Vista as our church, then?”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather worship at,” replied Willow.

~o~O~o~

Seven months later.

It was now June. Willow had finished her junior year of high school with exemplary grades, earning her the right to a summer junior internship with a stock brokerage. One of her first assignments was to help host an evening cocktail hour with some of the firm’s bigger clients. She walked around making sure the hors d’ oeuvres were circulating well; she was still way too underage to handle alcohol, even just transporting it to others. Dressed in a grey dress jacket with a business skirt, she walked the floor as the adults gabbed, ate, drank and laughed.

“DAMMIT!”

Willow whirled around to see where the oath came from. A tall man in a sports jacket stood holding his right arm away from his body; deep red liquid dripped from his coat sleeve.

“Oopsh. Sorr – ah, sorry;” said an inebriated fellow who stood to the right of the curser, holding a nearly empty glass of red wine. He wavered back and forth over his heels, obviously more than a few drinks over the line.

“Whoa there, sir,” Willow said to the drunk one, grabbing his lapel to stabilize him. “Jenny!” she quipped to one of her fellow interns, “Come help this gentleman to the lobby; I think he’ll need a cab ride home.” She then turned to the tall one. “I’m sorry that happened, sir. Shall I take your jacket and work on it before the stain sets?”

“Sure,” he mumbled. “You know how to deal with that, huh?”

“I’ve dealt with a grape juice stain before; it’s probably pretty similar. My Momma taught me,” she smiled, slipping his jacket off and running to the kitchen.

Minutes later she returned.

“Wow. It looks mostly gone – only a faint residue left,” he marveled.

“Club soda, and a little hydrogen peroxide. I’d still get it dry cleaned tomorrow if I were you. Tell them about the wine spill.”

“Thanks again, little lady. This was about to be my worst day of this month before you came along. My car gave out on the way over here, and then I get splashed with Merlot.”

“Your car?” Willow hoped that being a listening ear would improve this client’s mood and help the firm’s relationship with him.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “European import. The engine’s been dying on me lately, and no one can figure it out. That’s pretty embarrassing to admit, with my business and all.”

“How so?”

“I’m Sam Tarpley, of Tarpley Auto Repair centers. Currently have 32 shops scattered around New Mexico and Texas. And my best three repairmen can’t figure this out. I need a car whisperer, some kind of automotive savant.”

“Um … Sir, my fiancé is a car whisperer – that’s what they call him at the repair shop he works at. I’d love to ask him to take a crack at your ride.”

“Hmph. Because you saved my favorite jacket, I’ll allow it. If he can fix it, I’ll buy you guys a gift certificate for Montague’s Steak House.”

“Or maybe a position with your company with potential for advancement?” Willow cooed, batting her eyes.

“Hmm. We’ll see. I don’t usually …” his voice trailed off as his vision became fixed towards the entrance into the room. “Oh. Oh my god. Who is that woman there? The one in the striking red dress?” Mr. Tarpley pointed to the foyer area.

“The one with her hair in an up-do? Ah … that’s my sister Angie. She’s my ride home when this ends. She’s early – her college professional society meeting must have ended sooner than usual.”

“Young lady – what’s your name?”

“Willow, sir. Willow Ramos.”

“Willow. Could you please introduce me to your gorgeous sister?”

~o~O~o~

One week later, Willow and Bern were on a double date with Angie and Sam Tarpley at Montague’s. Sam was singing praises to Bern.

“You figured out the problem, buddy. A vapor lock in the fuel line that all the sensors missed. My guys reworked the tubing, but I may need to trade in that roadster for something else eventually.”

“Yeah,” replied Bern. “The 2002 models had that flaw – and it’s worse in hot desert climates.”

“How did you know that?”

“Cars are an obsession for me. I like reading up on them, and I like the thrill of solving a problem that’s stumped everyone else.”

“You know, I wish I could clone you. Have one of your clones for each shop I own – because each shop has one or two ‘stumpers’ that are hard to figure out.”

Willow broke in. “Maybe you don’t have to clone him. Why not do video conference calls? Have your regional guys explain the cases to Bern, and have him work on troubleshooting them. If your centers get a reputation for curing the tough ones, think what that would do for your revenue!”

“I’d have to invent a new job position for him … Master Auto Technician. Yeah, that’s a good idea. Say, you two make a pretty good team.”

“Bern’s the one with the skill,” Willow demurred.

“And you’re the one with the plans and vision,” Bernard smiled back at her.

“So far I think you and I make a good couple too,” purred Angie as she kissed Sam on the cheek.

~o~O~o~

To be continued tomorrow.

If you've made it this far, please leave a comment! Don't make me reach through the screen and tweak your nose!

Thanks for reading!

“Are you the friend who’s picking me up? I don’t know who you … wait. … *gasp!* … AMANDA?!”

~o~O~o~

**CONTENT WARNING: Sex; not salacious, but very descriptive**
**CONTENT WARNING: Spiritual content (a conversation with God)**

~o~O~o~

Five years later.

The non-stop 737 from Seattle had landed safely and was deplaning at the El Paso International Airport. Most of the exiting passengers looked to be experiencing a little jet lag, as the flight was a red-eye departure; now it was noon in the border city.

Willow had been seated near the back, so was one of the last ones off. The wait and her wobbly legs couldn’t dim her mood, though. No more follow-up visits. Hallelujah! Now I just have to find my ride.

Her usual routine was to get an Uber to drive her into town, to home or work; It was cheaper than parking at the overpriced airport lot. But Bernard had told her that an old friend would be getting her this time; he didn’t reveal the name, as he wanted it to be a surprise. So Willow was starting to feel a little uneasy, until she saw a young man with a cardboard sign:

WILLOW ANDUJAR

“That’s me!” she said, hopping over to the man. “Are you the friend who’s picking me up? I don’t know who you … wait. … *gasp!* … AMANDA?!”

“That’s me,” smiled the handsome male. “I now go by my original given name Toby; I have for a while now.”

“What – how – ?”

“I called Bernard and told him I’d be in town and wanted to meet with you. He suggested I surprise you this way.”

Willow approached him and gave him a bear hug. “I can’t believe it! You’re actually a real, solid, living, breathing person!”

Toby tilted his head. “You were thinking I was no longer real or living?”

Now her eyes narrowed and her lips grew thin with a scolding smirk. “I wasn’t sure; you’ve been ghosting me for the last 3 years!”

~o~O~o~

Willow and Toby now sat at a table just outside the Starbucks nearest the airport. Both sipped their coffee drinks in silence. Willow dabbed tears away with a napkin.

Toby grimaced as he saw her pain. “You hate me. I don’t blame you.”

“No. I don’t hate you. I love you like a brother, stupid! It just hurts. I thought that I’d dealt with it, but seeing you suddenly brought all this emotion to the surface.”

“Are you mad at me?”

Willow sniffed, then smiled. “No. I can’t afford the luxury of anger. It would open up a Pandora’s box of bad stuff for me. So let me tell you now in person what I told you in my heart years ago: I forgive you. Tell me, though; why did you stop communicating?”

The boy hung his head. “I’m sorry I cut you off, Willow. I thought you’d be disappointed in me; call me a quitter. Your opinion of me mattered to me so much, and my fear of rejection was so huge, that I just withdrew from you. Then as time went on, the lack of communication was what I worried about – worried that you’d be angry with me about even that. I hear that you forgive me, but I don’t deserve it. I wouldn’t blame you if you never spoke to me again.”

“Neither of us deserve mercy for anything, in the grand scheme of things. But I needed to give it to you, for my sake even more than yours. And you need to forgive yourself,” she said as she arose, walked to Toby and hugged him briefly. “If you’re open to it, let’s resume friendly communication, OK?”

“You’re pretty awesome, Willow. OK, let’s restart this.”

“GREAT!” she exulted as she settled back in her seat. “Now: what’s this about you fearing I’d call you, what was it …OH. A quitter? And why are you living as Toby and not as Amanda?”

“Well, you know that after Mom separated from Dad she moved to San Antonio taking me and my sister with her –“

“Yeah, I knew that; let me catch you up on all I remember. Your folks divorced. You started your real life test, taking testosterone blockers and presenting as female full time at your new school. We were texting daily at first, then 1 – 2 times a week. Then, nothing. I even contacted your mom to make sure you were safe, and she said you needed a break from all the texts; I backed off to give you space, and that’s the last I heard from you. Now you’re Toby again; so what the heck happened?”

“Being in a new city away from my angry father did wonders for me,” Toby replied. “I did start on the blockers and lived as a girl; but after a year I started feeling like I needed to try being male again. I think the antidepressants they started me on really helped with my mood and overall happiness. So I detransitioned, and I found I was content – even happy - as a guy. I’ve been living as a boy for the last two and a half years – I’m active in football, I’ve got a girlfriend and I’m really enjoying my senior year of high school.”

Willow raised an eyebrow. “You like being Toby? You promise me than no one’s forcing you to be male against your will?”

“Yeah, absolutely. I’m one of those kids for who this really was a phase – probably aggravated by the emotional turmoil at home and a verbally abusive Dad.”

“Then I’m happy for you, Mr. Toby. I don’t think you’re a quitter. But you’ve got to promise that you’ll never ghost me again!”

“I promise, cross my heart – and again, I’m sorry.”

“So: different subject. Why are you in El Paso … surely not just to meet me today?”

“I’m here to spend the weekend with my Dad. It’ll be the first time I’ve been with him for more than a day since he and Mom divorced. He’s gone through some therapy, and says he’s dealt with his anger and emotions. He really misses me and my sister. She’s still a little too hurt by his words he spewed before Mom and us left him for good, so she doesn’t want to be here. But I’m up for trying to reestablish a semblance of a relationship.”

“Toby,” Willow worried, “are you going to be safe? I remember how furious he could get.”

“I think he’s a changed man. And the few times he’s come to San Antone to spend time with me – things have been fine.”

“Just in case they don’t – put my phone number in your speed dial. If you need to bail, Bernard or I will come and get you.”

“Okay,” smiled Toby. “If the visit goes even half as well as ours just did, there will be no problem. I’m supposed to meet him in an hour. I probably need to go drop you off at your place so I won’t be late.”

~o~O~o~

“Ah! Home sweet home. Or, apartment sweet apartment.”

Willow pulled her carry-on bag into her domicile and laid it on the chair in the bedroom. She checked in the mirror to see if anything needed freshening, then got on her computer. She started a videochat. A man in his mid-30’s appeared onscreen, sitting at a desk in a suit and tie.

“Hi, Willow.”

“Hello, Steve. I’m back in E.P.”

“So how was Seattle? And – if you don’t mind me asking – what did you go there for again?”

Willow smiled plaintively. Actually, I do mind – since you know it was a private thing, and yet you keep grilling me about it. “To deal with a personal family matter, just like the other times I’ve gone. Thankfully, that issue finally appears resolved, so I don’t anticipate any more routine trips there unless it’s for the business.”

“Business? We don’t do any business outside of Texas.”

“Steve – there are liquor franchises up there that have a different sales model from what we’re used to. I spent an afternoon examining a few of them. In the process, I met a supervisor and took her out for a drink; she didn’t mind telling in detail about the strategies they employ.”

“A supervisor spilling company secrets! You must have gotten her really drunk.“

“Come on Steve – you know I’m a strict tee-totaler*,” Willow chided. “We went for coffee drinks. The talk at first was just about life stuff, what we had in common. We kind of connected personally – talking as if we’d been friends for life. Towards the end, she opened up about those sales models; she didn’t feel like it was any problem since – being half a continent away – our operation is not really competition for her. But since, my mind’s been buzzing with ideas about how we can grow our stores!”

“You’re amazing, Willow. The best networker/connection maker I’ve ever seen. Making new business contacts by pretending to care –“

A flash of ire rose in Willow’s spirit, but she recognized it and snuffed it out with the mental ice water of humility. “Hey! I wasn’t pretending. We became true friends, and the info she shared was given freely – and with the understanding that I would use it confidentially. So this is for our use only, got it?”

“Got it, my star employee. I’m in awe of your gift. You should let me take you out to dinner to celebrate. Just us two.”

Willow smiled sweetly and shook her head. “Steve, play along with me for a sec. Repeat each word I say, starting with; ME.”

The man in the suit chuckled, but looked a bit taken aback. “Okay. ME.”

“TOO.”

“Too.”

“MOVEMENT.”

“Movement”

“Now say all 3 words together.”

“Me Too Movement.”

Both employer and employee stared silently at each other through their screens for a long twelve seconds before Steve choked out a response.

“Okay. So you’re taking a rain check on that dinner, then,”

“We're never having a 'just us two' dinner, Steve. No 'just us two' anything.”

“Gotcha. See you at work on Monday?”

Willow nodded, as she turned her monitor off. Yes, I’ll be at work on Monday – in spite of having to see you. Thank you, Higher Power – whom I choose to call God - for giving me self-control just now.

* A person who abstains from drinking any alcohol

~o~O~o~

Bernard Andujar’s cell phone rang with a wind-chime noise. Willow was calling. He grabbed the device and put it to his ear.

“Hey there, my hot foxy babe! Are you home now?”

“Hello, my handsome husband. Yes I’m back. Say, you’re quite a sneak, setting up Toby and me like that!”

“Toby? You mean Amanda?”

“Toby now. Long story. What’s work looking like – when are you getting off?”

“Murphy’s law is in full effect today. I’m a greasy mess; I’ll be done here at 6:30 – if no more things go wrong with this Jag engine. Nuts – I wanted to take you out to dinner, but I might not be clean and ready until 8.”

“How about I order some delivery for us? Just come home, clean up and we’ll eat here. I’ll dress for comfort, and we can exchange back massages or watch the next ‘Jack Ryan’ episode. Then we can hit the sack; you sound tired and I’ve been up since the red-eye flight this morning. Sound good?”

Bernard paused for a few seconds, then replied. “Yep! Sounds good. See you then.” He walked back to the troublesome Jaguar he was working on, wondering about unasked questions and their answers. She didn’t mention her doc visit. Are things okay down there? Is she wanting to try ‘front-door’ sex, or has he not OK’d it yet? I should have asked – no, I shouldn’t. Don’t want her to feel I’m pressuring her.

~o~O~o~

Bern walked in to their apartment. “Hey, I’m home; give me 30 minutes to clean up, and –“

“Hi lover. The food’s already here and hot. Just take off your shirt and pants, and put these on,” as Willow handed him a white tee and some gym shorts. “Then just wash your hands and come sit down and eat. I ordered a 3 course Italian meal from Tony’s; you deserve the full treatment after such a hard day.”

“Okay – at least we’ll be matching,” he replied as he looked at his wife while he changed. She wore a similar shirt and shorts ensemble. “Tony’s, huh? Did you get me – “

“Spicy lasagna with a side of eggplant parm,” she smiled.

“OH boy! My fave!”

Not much talking occurred over the meal, as Bern was ravenous and rather inhaled his food. Willow gently ate her Italian house salad with chicken breast. As her hubby took a last bite of the dessert (a cannoli), he rubbed his tummy.

“That was soooo good,” he sighed. “Okay. Now I’m gonna hit the shower to get the rest of this sweat and dirt off of me.”

“It’s been a big, busy day for both of us,” his wife replied. “I’m going to go ahead and go to bed, if that’s okay with you.”

“Aww – no back massages?”

“Sure – we can do it in bed before we get to sleep.”

“Okay. See you in about 15 minutes.” Nuts. I was hoping for some sex tonight. But she’s been up for more than 17 hours now; she probably needs sleep badly. Oh well. He walked towards the bathroom and started shedding his clothes.

~o~O~o~

Willow hopped into their bedroom and quickly disrobed The sound of water starting to run meant that hubby was entering in the shower. She got naked, then stopped to look in the big wall mirror.

My face is still that nice oval shape that I’ve had since my second full year on hormones. Didn’t need FFS to shape my nose, and never developed an Adam’s apple; lucky, lucky. Wait – not lucky, blessed. Thank you, HP. Hmmm. I think I like my current hairstyle better than any other I’ve had – down to my shoulder blades in wavy brown ringlets. Ha – remember the blonde phase, Willow? Yuchh!

I’m satisfied with my A-cup boobs, especially since Bern loves them. I do wonder at times what it would be like to have bigger ones; women with D’s have such obvious power over men. That could help in business – wait. No, not my current workplace. Steve would be salivating over me all day. Okay, it’s settled – I love my breasts just like they are.

She ran her hands down her waist. That’s gotten nice and hourglass-y. Then she struck a pose, bouncing her generous hip out to the side. My gift from God, and Dr Estrada and his hormones. My J-Lo butt. Made to straddle my big stud hoss as I ride him to the finish line. Oh, how he loves to squeeze and caress it. Now that we can do a proper missionary position, I’ll bet he goes ballistic over it.

Her hands drifted down to her groin, and framed the newest change in her form. Hello there, Miss V. Are you ready for tonight? You should be; I’ve been pretty diligent with dilation, and last night in the hotel we finally did it. Took a long time and a lot of lube and rubbing; it wasn’t the hugest come, but we got there, didn’t we?

She stopped and bowed her head. God, this may not be the most spiritual subject, but there’s no one else who I can ask. Please let me come when I’m with Bern. I know I can masturbate to get off, but I want him to experience the pleasure of seeing me orgasm when he’s the only stimulation I have. I know that will fulfill him so much. What a gift that would be – for both of us. Thanks for listening – your kid, Willow. Amen.

Willow had newly acquired lingerie, a red tinted near-sheer set with lacy bra, panty and matching gauzy kimono wrap. She donned only the kimono – then sat down and cradled her head in her hands.

“Dammit. Calm down.”

She felt her heart speed up, and a slight tremor entered her hands and breathing.

What if I can’t get there? What if it hurts? What if he doesn’t like it? What if I wasted all of that money and travel and time for something that’s just going to be mediocre, or worse – horrible? What if I can’t stop worrying and am unable to get mentally involved in sex tonight? What if –

Willow.

She stopped and held her breath. My name? Where did that thought come from?

Calm down. Don’t worry.

Who is that? Is that me? Am I talking to myself? Who is that?

Who do you think it is.

Uh … God?!! Is … is that you??

You’re so full of questions, precious one.

Okay. I’m not hearing a voice in my ears – it’s in my head. But it sounds slightly different from the voice I talk to myself with. Am I … am I going schizophrenic??

Maybe. Or maybe you really do have a Higher Power who cares.
.
Okay, God. If this is really you why haven’t I heard you before?

You have – in other ways. A friend’s advice. A newspaper. An idea as you were thinking. Tonight, I had to be more … interventional. You need help.

I’m … I’m scared. About so many things!

Yes. I heard.

So – do you have the answers I need?

No; I have the questions. I’ll ask them, and you give me the answers.

But –

Do you trust me?

As best as I can in this emotional state I’m in.

That’ll do. Why did you get your SRS from that Doctor in Seattle?

Because of his reputation for slow careful work; it takes him twice as long as usual to do the procedure, the better part of a full day. He claimed to have the best success with his patients, as far as their achieving vaginal orgasm post-op.

Did you invest a lot into this?

Oh yeah – his prices were double the usual SRS fees, not to mention the multiple pre and post-op trips to the west coast. That’s why we still live in an apartment, even with 2 incomes.

Do you feel guilt over this?

Of course I do. Bern deserves to be living in a house, but because of me we still have to rent.

Did you seek this for selfish reasons?

What else could they be? I’m the one who’s put us through all of this trouble.

So you didn’t do it for Bern at all?

Yes … yes I did. I want him to experience –

Yes, I heard your thoughts earlier. Your concern for him is a good thing. You function best when you put others ahead of yourself.

My boss Steve keeps carping on “looking out for #1”; he says you’ve got to put yourself first.

There are times for self care – but taking care of you is mainly my job. Your job is to be my hands to take care of others.

So, in this situation, what does that mean?

Put Bernard first in your priority and heart. Trust me to take care of you. Don’t worry about it.

This can’t be that simple. There must be something else I’m supposed to do.

Don’t worry about it.

Got that – but what specifically should I do?

Don’t worry.

Maybe I’m not being clear. WHAT DO I DO TO MAKE THIS SEX SUCCESSFUL? I NEED YOU TO SPELL IT OUT SLOWLY AND CLEARLY, please.

Oh. Okay. Here it comes. Ready?

Ready!

D-O-N-‘T W-O-R-R-Y. That is what to do, your main job here.

Oh. OH!

Worry inhibits your participation and your pleasure. Just trust your body, and me.

Okay. I’ll try my best!

Focus on pleasing Bern. I’ll help him to fulfill you. We work well together. He listens and talks with me, just like you. It’s time to get dressed, by the way. And prep below.

Below? OH – THE LUBE! Got it! Hey, HP – thanks!

She heard the shower turn off, and so resumed her dressing and prep with increased speed.

~o~O~o~

Bern toweled his short brown coiffure, then worked the cloth down his cut figure – past his well defined biceps, his tight pecs, six pack abs, and firm gluts and thighs. He hung the towel up to dry and reached for his comb; then noticed that his razor, shave gel and cologne had been strategically placed on the counter. So she wants me smooth and smelling nice. Maybe we’re gonna get busy tonight after all?

Bern eventually opened the door into the bedroom proper. Candles were lit, and light saxophone jazz played through the Omni. Willow lay in their bed, covered to her neck by the comforter. “I forgot to dilate today, baby. Can you help me with that?”

He nodded. “Okay. Where are the dilators and the lube?”

“I’ve already lubed up. And I’m so done with those hard plastic dildos. I figured we could use your built-in dilator.”

Bern’s eyes got wide. “So the doc cleared us for …?”

She pulled the comforter off, revealing her form through the gauzy kimono wrap. Her sexy hip curve was accentuated by her right-side-lying position. Her left hand dangled a plastic storefront sign that she’d gotten at the office supply store earlier; it said

“Open for business, sir,” she cooed.

Willow began to take off her kimono, but Bern put a hand gently on her shoulder. “No, babe. Please, allow me. You deserve – what did you call it? -the full treatment.”

He sat on the side of the bed and guided her to sit in his lap, facing him with her legs wrapped around his firm midsection. She breathed in the scent of his warm, fresh skin tinged slightly with the cologne. A sharp inhalation entered her mouth as he suddenly pulled her tight, his huge potent hands grabbing and gliding up and down her back. She felt his mouth kiss her cheek, his teeth nibble playfully at her earlobe.

Pulling her head back, she placed both her palms on the side of his smooth shaven cheeks. She was starving for his kiss, and pulled his mouth to hers; his moist tongue watered her parched teeth with hydrating passion.

His fingers began to slowly peel the gauzy kimono off her shoulders; kisses and occasional teethy nips attacked the newly exposed areas. His onslaught slowed as his mouth eventually descended to her warm breasts, with nipples already erect and hard. His mouth encased first the right and then the left; Willow felt that if she could give milk, she would more than fill his throat. The sensations from those points now were overwhelming, and her body began to tremble; a new feeling arose in her groin, one she’d never quite felt as a male. It was … heat. It was intense. A furnace, a pyre between her thighs, a glowing aching need. It required feeding.

She grasped Bernard’s thick erection. The flame below flared to an inferno. “Please,” she gasped. “don’t make me wait any longer!”

In one fluid motion she was on her back with her lover laid on top of her. His manhood touched the inlet of her moist slit. “Here I go, baby.”

She broke out in a fresh sweat as she felt this new, wonderful sensation slowly invade her being. It was ecstasy. The tremor now shook her every breath. All of her worries about her new body began to break up and dissipate as she luxuriated in every slow, full, deep thrust inside her.

“Am I hurting you, babe?”

“No. It’s … ooooh … it’s wonderful. Oh. Oh! Baby – keep it up – whatever you do don’t stop!”

He continued thrusting in a slow, elliptical motion, churning as if he was making butter. Over, and over, and over. Willow made sure she expressed her pleasure verbally; oohs, ahs, moans and groans to let Bern know just how great he was performing.

The shivering intensified to where her whole body was an earthquake. She began to feel a tingling – a bit like numbness, but more like a rush of adrenaline injecting into her belly and rapidly spreading outward. Her fingernails dug into her lover’s back, her forehead slammed into his chest.

“Ooooohhh … OOHHH GOOOHHHHDDD! G-GOOHHDD! AAAAaaah! *gasp-gasp* HAAAaaah! … Ohhhh … oh God yessss…”

Bern was smiling wide as he paused his movements. “Babe! It works?!”

“It … it DOES! Oh my God, Bern – you made me come!” Willow suddenly burst into sobs.

“Oh no,” said her husband with concern. “Please tell me I didn’t hurt you, right”

“No, no! *sniff* It was great! Happy – *sob* – happy tears, lover. All the money, all the time and wait and hassle – it was soooo worth it!”

Bernard cradled her head to his shoulder as she continued to weep. Eventually she calmed, and kissed his neck. “How does it feel, knowing you just sent your wife and her new little pussy to the moon and back?”

“I’m on top of the world, babe. Nothing can top this feeling.”

She felt a new erection reforming against her leg. “Nothing can, huh? Not even another go?”

“Babe – are you up for it? I don’t want to hurt it – the new pussy, I mean.”

“Bern – I promise I’ll stop if I don’t feel right. But I’m ready for round 2. Just one isn’t enough; there’s still plenty of lubrication there.”

“Okay, then. Let’s have you roll over and we’ll try it this way. Here goes. Does that feel okay?”

“Does it ever,” she moaned. “Bern – don’t stop. Keep it going, a little faster. And maybe even harder.”

~o~O~o~

Much later, both husband and wife lay together naked on the bed, glistening wet, physically spent.

“Open for business,” Bern sighed. “You did a bang-up job on your first business day.”

“YOU did the banging, sir – quite well, I might add. Oh God, Bern. That was so much better than the back door sex we’ve been having. I think I want most deliveries via the front from now on.”

“Are you sore?”

“Ask me tomorrow. But I’ll still need to dilate daily for a while. And I hate hard plastic. Now, penis? That’s where it’s at! Rocks my world. Are you up for dilating me daily?”

“Ha! Is my El Camino burnt orange? YES!”

~o~O~o~

To be concluded tomorrow.

If you've made it this far, please leave a comment! Don't make me reach through the screen and tweak your nose!

Thanks for reading!

"I pulled down these scrapbooks – I always have wanted to. I’m learning about you and our family’s history. They’re pretty amazing – especially this one,” she said as she lifted a tome with a deep green cover.

“That’s your aunt’s book,” sighed Angie. “I wish you had gotten me to go through it with you so I could explain it all. How far have you gotten?”

“Far enough to know that Aunt Willow – she used to be a boy!!"

~o~O~o~

Yes indeed, this is the last part of the Weeping Willow saga. I appreciate everyone's patience and forbearance with me. I know that I included various elements that were controversial and not everyone's cup of tea (like God and religion). The Sex chapter (part 19) was nerve wracking for me because I worried it would be clumsy, stilted, tasteless or boring. (I haven't written many sex scenes, especially one that explicit). Your encouragement and input was precious and life-giving. I love you guys; thank you.

~o~O~o~

Angela Ramos Tarpley was looking for her eldest daughter. The child was supposed to be in her room working on an idea for the science fair next week, but the bedroom was empty. Her little brother and sister were off over at friend’s houses. The mother had already scoured the rest of the upstairs.

“Gwendy? Where are you??”

She heard a muffled reply from downstairs. “In the big chair room, Mom!”

Angie descended the staircase. The “big chair room” meant the den; it was full of comfy overstuffed furniture. “What are you doing, honey? Did you finish the research for your diorama?”

“Yeah, I think so,” replied an eleven-year-old girl with brown-blonde hair, dressed in jeans and a pink shirt that had FLOWER POWER outlined in white daisies. She sat on the floor surrounded by big decorated books. “I want to run my top 3 ideas by you in a minute. But I pulled down these scrapbooks – I always have wanted to. I’m learning about you and our family’s history. They’re pretty amazing – especially this one,” she said as she lifted a tome with a deep green cover.

“That’s your aunt’s book,” sighed Angie. “I wish you had gotten me to go through it with you so I could explain it all. How far have you gotten?”

“Far enough to know that Aunt Willow – she used to be a boy!! Wow – no way! She looks all girl to me – and she’s so short!”

I should have told the kids well before now, but I kept procrastinating, she mused. Well, here goes. “Okay. Let’s sit down and I’ll tell you the story of an angry violent boy named Bill, the changes he went through and why. We’ll do it by going through this memory book. I’ll tell your little brother and sister when they get home. And listen close, Miss Gwendolyn Willow Tarpley: you will NOT take this and spread gossip or rumors about your aunt. Do you understand?”

“Yes ma’am,” shouted Gwendy with a sharp salute, just like her Daddy had taught her.

They thumbed through the scrapbook, starting at the beginning.

“Oooh, Mom! Aunt Willow – I mean, I guess she’s called Bill in this photo – he looks so mean, almost evil!”

“Not evil, hon; but close. And mean, angry? Definitely. Bill was no fun to live with. He would explode with rage if he didn’t get his way. He got into drugs, too.”

“And then the next page, she’s Willow – and I see her laughing! She looks relaxed, and happier. Oops, except this photo – she’s crying. Why is she crying?”

Angie stroked her daughter’s hair. “Crying was a good thing for her. As Bill, she couldn’t shed even one tear. Becoming a woman allowed her to feel and then deal with emotions. She wept so much that I nicknamed her ‘Weeping Willow’.”

“Momma!” the daughter gasped. “You made fun of her?!”

“No, no. Sometimes nicknames are out of affection. Like when we call you Gwendy-boo-boo.”

“I don’t like that; it sounds like a baby name.”

“You loved it when you were five.” Angie changed her voice to mimic Patrick the Sea Star. “You’ll always be my lil’ Gwendy-boo-boo.”

“Sooo … back to this book,” Gwendy-boo-boo said (purposely changing the subject), “Bill changed to Willow and suddenly was happy and off drugs?’

“Oh no – it wasn’t instantaneous. But it was quicker than anyone could suspect. In less than a year, she was fully into girl mode, clean and sober. No one who didn’t know her from before suspected anything about her boy past.

“I wasn’t trying to hide her secret from you. She doesn’t keep it a secret; if anyone asks her, she is truthful with it. But she’s been Willow for the better part of thirteen years, and we feel that this is who she really is, who she was always meant to be. We don’t bring up Angry Bill because – well – he no longer exists.”

Gwendy turned the page. “Hey. There’s an article from the paper in here – the picture, that’s Father Wilson from church! What’s that got to do with my aunt?”

“The Father writes an occasional article for the religion section of the El Paso Times. This one – well, why don’t we read it out loud together?”

~o~O~o~

Religious or Spiritual? By Father Joseph Wilson.

I have been a deeply religious man for all of my adult life. Teaching and spreading my religion has been my calling, my purpose for existing. It was what God wanted me to do.

Or so I thought.

See, I have learned something. It is possible to be religious without being spiritual. Spirituality implies a humility, a change in heart, and a living, active relationship with God. With other people too, since we are all made in the image of God.

Without spirituality, religion degenerates into rules, judgemental attitudes, rejection of others due to their “defects” while brushing our own sins under the rug.

I did not know it, but somewhere along the line I had become an aspiritual, hyper-religious hypocrite. I am quite sure that had I continued, I would have missed heaven. But thank God, the Lord intervened with a jolt that woke me up to the reality of my situation. He used another human being to do this.

You are wondering what person it was. A regional overseer? One of the church’s elder statesmen? A saintly evangelist? No. Not even close.

The Lord sent me a teenage girl. One with a past of violence and drug use, although she’d been clean and sober for weeks before she started attending. Oh and one more thing: she was transgendered. A male-to-female transgender teen, who wore fancy Sunday dresses to services.

I tried to straighten her out. I warned her that though I would not reject her attendance, I could not say the same for our members. She was a pain in the neck, this one. She continued to attend, without protest or threats or civil disobedience or rude behavior. A smile and cheerful attitude were always in her ensemble. Her outfits were sufficiently chaste – so much so that some of our other teen girl members started dressing more appropriately for church. Less cleavage and lower hemlines, if you catch my drift.

This trans-girl also became a lifeline for a young child in our congregation who was experiencing feelings of gender distress. Her friendship likely averted a possible suicidal attempt by him.

Soon I saw: the transgender teen was doing more of God’s work than I was. That was the jolt. I was flabbergasted. Jesus’ warnings to religious hypocrites now shook me to my core as I read the books of the Gospel.

So I fell on my face and repented, right there on the floor of my office in Chula Vista Episcopal. I asked God for forgiveness, a new heart, a new mission, and courage to carry it out.

Now our congregation has three food banks spread throughout the poorer sections of El Paso, and the fourth is scheduled to open next month – across the border, in Juarez, Mexico. Our homeless shelter has recently expanded to a capacity of 80, and we hope to add more space soon. Doctor Curtis is in the second year of his work at the free clinic we co-opened with him in the central south of the city. And our congregants love to volunteer for these endeavors; they feel like the Lord is finally using them for real good. And of course, He is.

So I thank God for my second chance. For transforming Chula Vista Episcopal. And for using a person (who many rejected as an outcast), a child, to humble me from a proud arrogant religious Pharisee into a living, breathing minister of true spirituality. She has given me permission to print her name.

Thank you, Willow.

~o~O~o~

“Wow,” Gwendy sniffed. “Aunt Willow did all that? Now I’M the one weeping!”

“Me too, Baby,” whispered Angela as she dabbed a tissue to her eyes. “Hey, do you remember the big birthday party we threw for her last year?”

“No, Mom – remember, I had to go with our city team to the regional soccer playoffs? I was so disappointed that I had to miss her celebration. We lost the stupid soccer game, too.”

“Have you ever seen the video of your Dad’s speech to Aunt Willow and Uncle Bernard? He gave it at that party. No? Well, let’s pull it down from the cloud and get it on the TV!”

~o~O~o~

On the television screen.

A tall, slightly pudgy man in a tux stood up on a stage in front of a microphone. Before him was a dance floor surrounded by tables where a crowd of well-dressed people sat. Behind him a band prepped for their gig.

“Hello, is this thing on? Sorry, folks. I knew it was on. It’s just tradition for speeches to start with those five words. I’m Sam Tarpley, owner of Tarpley Auto Repair Centers, your co-organizer and emcee for tonight’s festivities. I’d like to thank William Eiken and his orthodontic practice for co-sponsoring this event. Thank all of you here, too, for coming. And finally I’d like to thank the lush who spilled me with Merlot wine over twelve years ago.

“Because of the lush, I met Willow. Through Willow, I met her sister, who became my wife and mother of my children. I also met Willow’s then-fiance, now husband; Bernard is the Master Automotive Technician for my car repair empire. Just four years ago, I hired Willow away from her job at a liquor company to become our Director of Franchisee Operations – in that time she has directed our expansion to 124 shops spread over eleven states.”

“I’ve never been so happy and prosperous. And my sister-in-law has had a hand in almost all of it. Yet there is a glaring deficiency in her history: Willow has never had a party held in her honor!

“Now, most of that is her fault. She hates big productions about herself. She didn’t even want much of a wedding – at her wish, she and Bern were married by the Justice of the Peace. But seeing as it’s both her birthday and her wedding anniversary – they got hitched the day she turned 17 – we feel she’s long overdue for a high class blowout.

“So with that in mind, I welcome you to the formal ‘Birth-iversary’ of Willow, and Bernard! There is food, and music, and dancing, and nonalcoholic drinks – both Willow and Bernard are long term tee-totalers, so if you have to have some booze today, get it after you leave the party.

“You’ll be hearing more from me later; I now give the floor to my in-laws, William and Gwen Eiken!”

~o~O~o~

Little Gwendy turned to her mother. “Yay! I didn't know Grandma and Grandpa spoke there!”

“They look good, don’t they? Let’s be quiet – Mom didn’t speak into the microphone very loudly …”

~o~O~o~

“I’ll speak first, since I’m the cause of this party,” said Gwen Eiken. “I complained that I didn’t get to have a formal wedding with my middle child; I felt cheated! Yes, I know that this is supposed to be about Willow, not my own wants. But I must admit I’m enjoying this; it’s still not a wedding ceremony, but I feel it’s at least like a wedding reception. I can live with that.”

William then spoke. “Lots of people who have met Willow tell us how blessed we are to have had such a pleasant, professional, hard-working child to raise. Well, we are super blessed now – but we sure didn’t feel that way during her mid-teens! She made life H-E-double hockey sticks for us for a few years, and I’m pretty sure she felt the same way; home was almost like a war zone. I began to despair for her future. Then she had a turnaround, brought about by a caring doctor and good friends, substance abuse recovery, and – I believe – God. She ought to write a book about it. Willow, we are so proud of who you are, who you‘ve become, and what you’ve had to go through to get to this station in life.”

“We’re so, so proud of you," Gwen added. "You make us so happy! And we continue to pray and wish the best in life for you.”

Sam Tarpley took the mike again after the Eikens stepped down. “The birthday part of this celebration is all for Willow, but the anniversary part involves her husband, also. Bernard Andujar is one of the best human beings I’ve had the honor of knowing. When it comes to cars, he is a genius – a Mozart of the motor. He loves all aspects of car care, but he shines brightest when given a tough problem to solve, one that multiple other mechanics have failed at. With him as the chief “car whisperer” – that’s my fave name for him – my shops have developed a reputation for excellence, the place you go to when things absolutely have to be done right.

“He’s developed many others under him, and our model now is for each shop to have a head mechanic trained by Bern; then twice a week they hold videochats and run any “stumpers” by him. He and I also host a radio call-in show about car repair where people tell him their engine troubles and he diagnoses them over the phone. Last I checked, he has an over 97% accuracy rate (per the feedback we get). The show is called – what else? – The Car Whisperer. It’s on from 9 – 10 AM on Saturdays, and we just got a contract to be aired regionally. So without further ado, everyone – here’s Bernard Andujar!”

A sturdy man with a mop of hair and stubbled face took to the stage. “Hey, thanks. Thanks everyone, for coming. Willow and I really appreciate it. Umm …” he started to appear uncomfortable. Sam took a step towards him and whispered in his ear; Bern’s face lit up with relief. “Oh yeah – thanks to my Mom and Dad; to the Eikens, and Sam, and Angie. Thanks to Mal for protecting Willow at school. And thank you to my hot, wonderful wife – Willow. You’re amazing, babe. … “ – he paused again. “Ah, sorry … public speaking really isn’t my bag, unless I’m talking about cars.”

“Okay, let’s talk cars then,” interjected Sam. “What brand of catalytic converters are used in the 1950’s El Camino models?”

“Dude, none of those models had catalytic converters. If you’re going to challenge me, at least try.”

“And there we have it, the real Bernard Andujar everyone!” grinned Sam. “You know it’s him when he says ‘dude’ like an ‘80’s California surfer! You may sit down, sir, because we have one more guest of honor – your wife.

“Willow Andujar is a force of nature. It’s rare to see someone so driven and talented, yet humble. This unique combination of gifts enables her to do things other business managers – heck, even other people of any type – can only wish for.

“How did we grow the radio show and franchises so rapidly? Again – Willow. She acts as Bern’s manager, and has the vision to guide our growth. She takes other people’s dreams and makes them reality; that’s her gift. No one can network and build business relationships like she can.

“Yet I feel her most impressive quality is a personal one: she knows herself. Her strengths, her weaknesses, and especially her limits. If she even starts to feel anger, she’ll deal with it – even up to the point of dropping what she’s doing and stepping away for a while. She works extremely hard, but when she needs to stop, she’ll do so. I’ve learned to respect her limits and not push her past them; in return, I get a partner and friend who is worth her weight in diamonds. Willow – will you come up here and say a few words?”

~o~O~o~

“Ooooh,” gasped Gwendy. “Aunt Willow kills it in that dress!”

“Yes, she’s a knockout. That’s called an off-the-shoulder red sweetheart gown; that slit that goes up to her hip really shows off her leg,” her mother replied.

“Mom – is she crying?? Why?”

~o~O~o~

“Hello and … th-thank you all,” said the short woman with flowing brown locks at the microphone. She put her hand up to dab at her eyes. “Knew this’d happen,” she faltered. She took another long moment to wipe her tears.

“Now all you guys know … why I don’t like to be the focus of big events. I can’t turn off the waterworks! My sister Angie dubbed me Weeping Willow years ago, and I sure live up to that name – especially with things like this,” she said motioning to all of the ballroom. She turned to the side, wiping her eyes again as she softly cried. Eventually she regained some composure.

“Seeing everyone here just reminds me of where I came from, and how far I’ve come. This is supposed to be the part of the speech where I tell everyone never to give up, to chase your dreams, grab your destiny by force and achieve your victory. Like it was all up to you and you alone, right?

“But the truth is – although my effort and hard work was essential to my future – none of it would have ever happened without the help, grace, perseverance and gifts of many, many good family and friends. Momma – you bore the biggest brunt of my rebelliousness, as you were the one who had to stay with me during the day for those two years as I homeschooled. Anyone else would have given up on me; but you hung around and loved me in spite of me giving you hate.

“Poppa – I will never forget the day your love broke through my crusty heart and started me weeping for the first time in years. *SNIFF* I still do, every time I think of it! Angie – you are a great sister and friend; you decided to stay so even after I put your life in danger that night where we met Ric – er, you-know-who. Mal, thank you for protecting me at school; and thanks for the forgiveness after the cookie prank.”

~o~O~o~

“I heard about what she did to Uncle Mal,” laughed Gwendy. “Still, that was mean!”

“Oh, he deserved it honey,” chuckled Angie as she paused the video. “And he got his revenge a year later, sending her a plate of brownies that were labeled as being from me. Mal made them, though.”

“Oh no! Were they full of lax … er …”

“Laxatives? No. They were real homemade brownies, made with flour and bittersweet chocolate. Nothing bad added. No sugar or other sweeteners added either. The yuckiest, most bitter things you ever tasted.” She pressed PLAY again.

~o~O~o~

“Bernard … where do I begin? Your love and friendship saved my life, literally. You’re patient, uplifting, and loving; you hold me accountable when I need it, and stay silent and strong when I need that. When I need you to talk, you have just the right word. I am so lucky, so blessed to be your girl, your friend, your wife.

“Sam – our meeting was a divine appointment. Both our lives got better from that point on! Thank you for being so good to my hubby and my sister, too. Julia; you are a rock for me, one I’ve leaned on many times.

“Dr. Estrada … I don’t know if you can hear me from heaven, but I miss you. You were awesome, and so patient and forgiving. We lost you too early. I know I’m supposed to focus on love … but I really hate cancer.

“Many more have helped me in big and small ways – for each and every one of you, I won’t forget your kindness.

“Now to all of those I just spoke of: from the very bottom of my heart, thank you all so so much!” She sputtered the last words quickly out before bursting into more tears and being helped off the stage.

~o~O~o~

“That was so cool to see, Mom. When Aunt Willow cries it makes me cry.”

“I don’t tear up quite as often as she, but I did today watching this with you.”

“Mom, I only have one question. Nobody there talked about Auntie being a boy when she was younger. Did everyone there already know? Or are we keeping that a secret?”

“Honey – what do you see your Aunt as, a boy or a girl?”

“A girl, all the way! Or really, I guess she’s a woman – she’s too old to be a girl.”

“Hush your mouth, daughter! I’m a woman, but a girl also, and I plan on being girly right up until I die at age 101. But back to Willow. Just like you, all of her family and friends see her as a woman. Not a ‘special’ or ‘handicapped’ or ‘freakish’ or even ‘trans’ woman – but as a woman. Who she was born as is really the furthest thing from our minds. So we don’t feel it’s necessary to bring up the ‘trans’ subject when we talk about her.

“Yet, we don’t hide it either. So if someone else brings it up or asks about it, we just acknowledge it and move on. We don’t dwell on it, just like we don’t dwell on her being Episcopalian, or half-latino, or brown-eyed. It’s a fact that has very little to do with her day-to-day life. That’s how she wants it, and that’s how we treat it. Does that make sense?”

“Yup!”

“And that’s how I expect you to treat that subject, both with her and with others, okay?”

“Yes ma’am!” said the young girl with a nod and another salute.

The doorbell rang.

“I got it!” yelled Gwendy, running to the front. She looked through the nearby window to see who it was, then grabbed the doorknob and flung it open.

“Aunt Willow! You won’t believe this – me and Mom spent all afternoon talking about you! Come in! To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit today? What’s in the bag? Are you going to stay for supper or - ”

“Time out, little niece!” Willow laughed and turned to Angie. “I know the perfect career for her – one of those salespeople on the cable shopping network! Those guys have to talk all of the time!” Then she squatted slightly, bringing her face to Gwendy’s level. “I’m here to fulfill a promise. I told you that I’d teach you how to make my famous chocolate chip cookies, and I brought all the ingredients to do it.”

“OMG! Right now?”

“Yes. Your mom knew I’d be coming. Go get us some aprons and I’ll meet you in the kitchen!”

“Wheee!” screamed the girl as she sped off.

Angie and Willow watched her run.

“She knows that you’re trans. She got into the scrapbooks, so I told her. I’ll be telling my other 2 when they get home from their friends.”

Willow raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“Didn’t faze her one bit. She’s a strong, loving girl. Just like you and I.”

“Thank you God. I love you, Angie. And I love Gwendy … so, so much.” *SNIFF*

Angie produced a tissue and a smile. “Come here, Weeping Willow.”

~o~O~o~

If you've made it this far, please leave a comment! Don't make me reach through the screen and tweak your nose!

Thanks for reading!