Graphic created by Patricia Marie Allen.
Background from Pixabay, model photo by Spencer Russell on Upsplash

My name is Rose. I’m about five foot eight, and I’ve got light red hair; pretty close to strawberry blonde. All in all, I'm a pretty normal woman.

I was at the SWEET (South Western Exposition for the Embetterment of Transpeople) convention along with eleven other women named Rose. Each of us had given a nickname so that we could be distinguished between each other. One of the women was dressed like a cowgirl, or at least someone from the country, and seemed very reluctant to say anything. When she insisted she be called Jeff, I figured whatever was eating her must have a terrible case of indigestion. I figured she wanted to be left alone, and was chatting with a woman sitting beside me, when one of the women suggested that we all give our stories of how we came to be called Rose.

I listened to each of them, and when ‘Jeff’ gave her, or rather ‘his’ story, I was horrified. I’m afraid I was rather hard on her for what she had done. She left, immediately after she told the story.

Everyone was quiet for a few moments, until I said quietly, “I shouldn’t have pushed so hard. It must be terrible knowing you’ve only got a few more months.” I sighed, and I’m afraid I missed a bit of the next Rose’s story, as I had to fix my makeup.

I came back to the table, and forced myself to try to pay attention to the story being told. She was a younger girl, named Rose Gold, and I really felt for her. Listening to her, I was finally able to put Jeff and her story out of my mind.

After the next woman spoke, a secret CD who hadn’t planned on dressing as female, it was my turn. “So what’s your story?” someone asked.

“It’s kinda embarrassing. Are you sure you want to hear it?” I asked.

The same woman proclaimed, “Yes! We’re all telling our stories.”

“Well, alright then. First, I should tell you, while my I go by Rosemary. Rose is my first name, and Mary my middle. My mother had a habit of calling me 'Rose Mary' when I got a bit headstrong. Which was often,” I said with a bit of a smile.

“When I heard my middle name before I became Rose, I ran! I knew I was in trouble, but when I heard Rose Mary, it thrilled me, even though I knew I was in trouble. It reminded me that those times as Russel were over. I prefer the name Rosemary now.”

“Anyway, my story:”

“I was probably around five years old when I told my parents that I was a girl. They thought it was cute, and laughed about it. Then, as far as they were concerned that was it.”

“I told them it was really true, but my mom told me, ‘Boys can't be girls, and you're a boy.’”

“I asked why I couldn't be a girl, and my mom said, ‘Girls don't have a wee-wee like you do. They're completely different than boys are.’"

“Well, I was confused and I asked to see that she didn't have a penis,” I’m afraid I giggled at the thought, then said, “She wouldn't show me. I really didn't understand, so I asked about my daddy too. Mom explained that he was a boy, so he had a penis.”

“I really had to think about all these things, but in a couple of weeks, I asked if I could get my penis cut off so I could be a girl.”

The other women laughed, and another Rose asked what my mom said.

I adopted a very bad impersonation of a parent, and said, "Russell, you are a boy and that's all there is to it. That's just the way things are."

I went on; “I was really pissed, but I tried to be a boy. I really did!”

“But you couldn't,” the Rose White, the secret Rose beside me said with finality.

“No. A couple of years later it got so hard I tried to cut the damned thing off!”

Several of the women exclaimed, almost at the same time, “what!?”

“Yeah,” I said, nodding. “I got a knife from the kitchen and made one deep cut at the base of it, then I ran into the living room, screaming.” I laughed again. “I got blood everywhere.”

“Mom took me to the ER and it was stitched back together. I tried to get the doctor to cut it off. He wouldn't. He just wondered why I didn't want it. Why did he think I didn't want it? What an idiot.”

“The moron doctor left me alone in the room when he went to talk to my mom. I guess it didn't dawn on him that it was numb. I figured I could cut it off now, cause I couldn't feel anything, but they heard me looking for another knife.”

“I guess my parents finally realized just how important it was to me, cause they started taking me to psychologists, but they just wanted someone who would agree with them. I put up with that for the next three years.”

“My dear father,” I said with sarcasm, “tried sports, models, trains. Anything he could to get me to think I was a boy.” I shook my head. “Needless to say, nothing worked.”

“Finally, when I was ten, they decided to actually talk with me about it instead of at me. My dad said that they’d talked to several doctors and they wanted to try something.”

“ But, I’d had it. I wasn’t going to listen to this crap again. They’d tried and tried, and I was done with my needs being ignored, instead of their wants. I yelled at him that I was Rose, and why couldn’t he understand that!”

“Well, He was mad! He ordered me to sit down and shut up. To hear him out, but I just didn’t care anymore. I looked away and ignored him.” I shook my head again. “We’d finally pissed each other off so much that neither of us was going to budge. What was weird, is that he tried to talk to me calmly. He sighed and told me that he knew that I was Rose, and not Russ.”

“I wasn’t sure I’d heard him right, because he never seemed to care how I thought of myself. Then he actually got tears in his eyes! It freaked me out cause I’d never see or heard him cry before.”

“He surprised me even more by saying, ‘We want to let you live for a year as Rose, but we want to do it safely.’”

Rose Gold asked, “Really? What did safely mean?”

“My thoughts exactly,” I replied. “I figured it was gonna be something like I could be me on weekends and after school, but I had to disguise myself as Russ at school. I told them no way did I want to do that, but Mom told me, no. I could be me all the time, because they were going to homeschool me for my fifth grade year. In a year, they wanted to talk about it, after they saw how well it had worked for me.

“That would be nice excuse for saying it didn’t work, so you were going back to being Russell,” Rose Gold commented.

“That’s what I figured too. I didn’t say anything, though. A year to be me sounded so wonderful! Of course, now, I realize that if I hadn’t stayed Rose, I probably would have been tempted to end it all, rather than just cut off my penis.”

“Which brings me to their other stipulation.The other thing ‘safely’ meant was they didn’t want me to hurt myself anymore. So even though I would have my penis while I was living as myself, I wasn’t to try to remove it. I told them it was gross, and I still wanted to get rid of it.”

I gave a disgusted laugh, and said, “Dad reaffirmed that if I tried again, the deal was off. I figured whatever. As long as I could be myself, I could handle that one hitch. I would just ignore the damned thing.”

“I started wearing the girliest clothes I possibly could, but then I started to realize that the clothes didn’t really make me a girl. Who I was did.”

“From that moment on, I’ve lived as me. I haven’t looked back. When we talked about it a year later, I told them that I’d been the happiest I’ve ever been, and I think they saw it as well. They never tried to turn me back into Russ after that.”

I paused for a moment, remembering something. “The first time I called my father ‘Daddy’, he hugged me with tears in his eyes.”

Several of the women were happy about that, and one said, “Awww.”

“I’d never expected anything like that,” I told her. “They totally changed!”

“One thing that their ‘safely’ did was allow me to go to middle school without people realizing that I used to be Russ. Since I wasn’t in fifth grade with them, they assumed that I had moved away. I acted dumb and the ones I remembered, I pretended I didn’t”

“One though,” I said with a big smile on my face, “I wanted to get to know, and I did. We hit it off real well. His name was Lyle Williams, and we went steady all through middle school and then high school.”

“He didn’t know that I had ever been a boy until then. He found out, because he told me he’d always wanted to be a girl! I asked him how come he dated me and he said he was embarrassed and said it was because he’d tried to be a boy.”

“He was going to break up with me! I thought maybe if I him that I was a trans-girl he’d reconsider, but then he was really mad and he wondered why I hadn’t told him!

“What? So it works only one way?” Rose White, the secret cross-dresser beside me asked.

Laugh out loud, I said, “At first, that’s how it seemed, but as he thought about it, he realized he had done exactly the same thing to me.”

“We didn’t talk for several days, but then he stopped by my house and wanted to.”

“We had both enjoyed kissing each other, and I loved being touched by him, or rather, her. She loved being touched by me just as much and we wondered if we could make it into a lesbian relationship.”

“Her real name was Lily, and we stayed together all through high school.”

“Lily didn’t let anyone but me know about her. Her parents were all for her being a girl, but they didn’t want other people to know. Lyle had never been a jock, and he was picked on because he liked to spend time with girls.”

“So, all through school, we kept up the boyfriend / girlfriend thing, but we were really lesbians.” I giggled at the memory of what our classmates would think if they knew about us. “Several of the girls wondered what I saw in ‘him’. They never caught on that he was actually Lily, a girl, and I sure wasn’t going to tell them. I just said he was the sweetest, gentlest guy a girl could ever wish for.”

“On summer vacations, Lily went with us, and I went with her on her family’s trips. We spent as much time together as we could.”

“Sounds like both your parents were understanding,” Rose Gold said.

“Yeah. Once they saw how much being a girl meant to me.”

“Would you believe that they gave me the most wonderful graduation gift they could? They paid for my surgery!”

“They went from wanting me to stay a boy to paying for my surgery!”

“Lily and I went away to a university in a different state. We wanted her to be herself. She had one last time as Lyle, and that was when we got married.”

“She didn’t wear a wedding dress?” asked Cis, our one born female.

“Not that time, but we went to a city where no one would complain and said our vows again. We celebrate that anniversary. Not the other one.”

“When did she transition?” Cis wondered.

“She hasn’t,” I told her. “We found that there are certain things that we enjoy with her keeping her male parts. It makes things pretty exciting.”

I looked over to the bar at that moment, and saw Lily. She looked stunning. She had dark blonde hair, and was dressed immaculately. I saw that she was getting a couple of drinks, and she brought them over to the table. She gave me a kiss, and handed me one of the drinks. Rose White slid her chair over a bit to make room for her. I don’t think the woman to my left was in any shape to move.

“You know what gardeners say,” I quipped as Lily and I grabbed each others hands, “Lilies and Roses go well together.”

I ended my story there, and listened as the remaining women told their stories. Afterward, Rose McColloch took me to task for my treatment of Jeff. Lily hadn’t been around to hear it, but she gave me a tongue lashing as well. I felt suitably ashamed.

I made my way to the registrar’s desk, and talked to the woman sitting there. I don’t think I would have gotten away with it had Rosie, the leader of our little group had been on duty, but I told her that Rose Carlisle had given me her number and address before she left, because I wanted to check up on her. She was sick, so I was concerned.

The woman looked her up, and I jotted down the number and address.

It took Lily and me a couple of hours to get to her home. We knocked on her door, but nobody answered. Looking around, I thought I saw some movement on top of a hill a ways off.

We hurried toward the place, and found a little cross stuck in the ground. It said Rose & Jeff. My eyes widened as I realized the ramifications of the cross, and I desperately looked around. I didn’t see anything, but Lily did. She called out his name, and we hurried toward him.

He was standing at the edge of a huge hole in the ground and we both knew what he had in mind.

He turned toward us, recognized me, and yelled to get off his property.

I stopped in my tracks and shouted, “Jeff, I’m so sorry. Can I please talk to you?”

He snorted. “Why? So you can point out more of my ‘sins’?”

“No!,” I answered. “I want to help you.” I was slowly approaching him as I talked.

“Stop!” He yelled when I’d gotten to about ten feet from him, Lily right beside me.

“Please let us help,” Lily pleaded.

“I don’t even know who you are!”

“I’m Rosemary’s wife,” she answered.

“Ah. Another moral compass?”

“No, Jeff. Someone who cares for you.”

“Well, your wife has a funny way of showing how much she cares. Are you any better?”

“I spoke without thinking!” I exclaimed. “I don’t think I thought of how much you cared for your sister. You did what you could to take care of her,” I told him.

Tears came to his eyes, as he seemed to think about it.

“Why would you care?” He turned back to the edge and it looked like he was going to jump.

“No!” both of us shouted at once.

A moment later, he took a step backwards and tripped. He ended up falling to a sitting position on the grass. Then he buried his face in his hands and started crying. “I can’t even do this right,” he moaned.

We hurried to him and wrapped our arms around him. Tears came to my eyes as I thought of what he must be going through.

-=#=-

We helped Jeff from then on, staying with him until the end.

I had grown close to him, but Lily seemed to understand him more. It was like they just seemed to know what the other was thinking.

The end came two months after the convention. We had stayed with him, making him comfortable throughout that time. Almost never did we leave him alone, except while he was wrapping up his affairs with a minister, and then an attorney.

Both of us were with him at the end. We were on either side of him as he passed away, each holding a hand.

I’ll never forget watching that last breath. It was heart rending.

He had told us so much about his life. How he’d felt when his sister died. I’d derided him when he told of his actions after her death. The fact was, her death affected him so badly, he couldn’t think straight. He now had two deaths to carry.

Well – he felt as if he had benefited from the death of his parents, so he carried their deaths as well.

We attended the funeral, and there weren’t many people there. He had told us he had no family, and very few friends. While we had known this, it still shocked us both that so few people were present.

It shocked us even more when his attorney told us that he had left a letter and his remaining assets to us.

He had told us both that he invested money before Rose died, for her, in case anything ever happened to him. He had left everything to her when he apparently died, and since he had no friends, he continued to invest.

When we saw the bottom line of what he left us, we were shocked. He had very few friends, and none of them were close. So he had treated the stock market as a hobby. Much of what he had was invested in big name internet companies, as well as environmentally friendly vehicles.

In the letter, he assured us that everything had been his to give. Not Rose’s.

He told us how grateful he was that we helped ease his burdens throughout his remaining time, and that he considered us his ‘family’.

His attorney knew of his background, and reassured us that none of the money had been obtained illegally. His only attempt to obtain anything illegally had been the failed robbery. While Jeff was an accessory to that, and guilty of taking his sister’s identity, the attorney was able to get him acquitted for the killing of the clerk, and cleared of every other charge. I understand that the term ‘time served’ was prevalent in that.

So Jeff died knowing that everything he had done had been revealed and his record was clear, legally. Now he would face God, which was no longer a terrifying prospect for him either.

For our parts, Lily and I had learned so much, and gained so much, and I don’t mean financially. We learned how to give much more than we got. We went into this situation with the only expectation of helping someone who needed it. Instead, we gained a real friend, and we were able to make his remaining days much easier than they ever would have been, otherwise.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Lily judge someone spur of the moment, and I don’t think I ever will again. After this, I can’t.

We plan on using the proceeds from the multiple investments for easing the pain, both physically and emotionally, of people as they enter their last days. Hospice, I suppose is the correct term.

One way or another, our lives will never be the same.

Thorn in the Flesh

By Rosemary

I entered the bar with great trepidation. I hadn’t had any problems in several years of being a woman, but I had just had some terrible news. No, I take that back. It wasn’t terrible at all. It was a relief. I had developed lymphatic cancer, and like every other case, it was ravaging my body.

I was reluctantly taking part in a meeting of eleven other ‘Roses’ while we were at the SWEET (South Western Exposition for the Embetterment of Transpeople) convention. I sat down and started taking in the other Roses there.

Most of them seemed to be much more comfortable in their role as women than I was. I had actually been quite comfortable for many years, but I had never been transgendered. I glanced down at my jeans and western shirt. They were women’s – they had to be. Men’s clothing would have been ridiculous on me.

I shook my head at my clothing. I was trying to return to my old identity, but I wasn’t doing very well. I took a flask out of my purse and took a swig.

Something asked my name, and I responded that I was Rose Carlisle. They demanded a name to differentiate me from the others, so I told them to call me Jeff. People started to get up in arms, but I stood by my name.

It was decided that we’d tell our stories to each other. How we became a Rose or whatever. I listened to several stories, and it was actually relaxing to hear about others, but then, it came time for me to tell mine.

“So what’s your story,” one of the others asked me. I really can’t remember which one.

I sighed. I considered making up a story, but I just wasn’t that imaginative. I sighed again and shook my head. Oh well, I thought. Nothing for it. “I was born, Jeffery Carlilse,” I began. “I had a sister named Rose who was born a year later than I was.”

“We were very much two peas in a pod – we loved the same things, although I tended towards several typical guy things, while she tended toward the girl equivalent. I played football, she was a cheerleader. That kind of thing.”

“We loved the same foods, tv shows, activities... We even looked alike. We lost our parents in an airplane accident, when she had one year left in high school. I was eighteen, so I just took care of her, and we were thick as thieves after that.”

I see my sister in my mind’s eye. We were seated in the living room watching a sitcom. I can’t remember which one. There was a news report that broke in, and we watched horrified as our local newscaster told us the story of a plane that had left our city two hours ago, and crashed. He gave the flight number, and it was the one that our parents were on.

We waited for more news. We found out that some people had survived, but we weren’t sure about our parents. Then came the knock on the door. It was a pair of police officers who told us that our parents had died in the crash.

I took a shuddering breath. “That leads me to my problem.”

“For a while, I didn’t have a lot of money until I got a decent job, and I needed some food for both of us. We got some from my parent’s insurance, but it was mainly just enough to pay for their burial.”

“I had a buddy, Matt Riggs, who had some expertise at the five finger discount, among other things. We decided to ‘borrow’ a rather large amount of money from a convenience store. He went in while I waited in the car. Once everyone had left the store, I watched as he made his way to the counter. He had on a ski mask which he pulled down, and he pulled out a gun. I don’t know what was said, but I saw the clerk’s hand go under the counter, as did Matt. The next thing I knew, there was blood splattering everywhere, and Matt was running out of the store. He jumped into the car, and I peeled out of the parking lot.”

“Wow! That’s crazy!” another of the Roses exclaimed.

I see the clerk’s face as he stares at Matt. There was a moment where I saw the clerk’s hand falter, then move toward the edge of the counter. Matt yelled something. Probably to stop, but the clerk was determined. Looking back in time with my mind’s eye, I can freeze time and move through the scene, as if it’s some sort of 3D model. I stand in front of Matt, begging him to not pull that trigger. I turn to the clerk, begging him to not press that button.

Of course, neither pay any heed, and I watch from right in front of Matt as he squeezes the trigger. The sound is deafening, and I see the expression on Matt’s face as the bullet flies out of the gun. He is scared, but determined. The bullet passes through where I’m standing, and I turn to face the clerk. He too, is scared but determined. His fear ends in an instant, however. I can’t help but agree with the Rose’s assessment.

“Matt dropped the gun in the store, but he had prepared for that, even though he was hoping not to use it.” I said. I felt sick as I thought of the situation again. It was such a stupid thing to do, but I had my Rose to think about. “His fingerprints were on it, but he had staged a robbery in his own apartment, a few days before. He reported the gun missing, so when it turned up at the crime scene, it was pretty much expected.”

I looked around, and the expressions were all disapproving. I understood where everyone was coming from. I felt just as sick as some of them appeared. “The prints on the gun,” I continued determinedly, “would show that someone had worn gloves when they fired it. Matt’s prints on the handle were messed up from that, which would be not at all strange if someone had stolen it and then used it in the robbery.”

“This was in the mid ‘80s, and forensic evidence was nowhere near what it is now. So as long as our alibi held up, we would’ve been okay. What was the alibi? We were at a game. We had made sure we were seen entering. Granted, we left halfway through, but prove it.”

“You were involved in a murder! How can you sit there so calmly?” I looked at the Rose, who spoke. Her face appeared to be imploring me to feel something for what we’d done. What she didn’t realize was that I felt something every moment of every day as I thought back to that one moment of stupidity. It would have made no difference for our financial situation had we just stuck it out, and every bit of difference in our lives.

“Because I have terminal lymphatic cancer,” I told the Rose, keeping my gaze from faltering. “I’m going to die in just a few months. Even if I go to prison, I’ll only be there for a short time. Because of my impending death, I want to try to live my last few days as Jeffrey.” I looked down at myself and shook my head. “I'm not having much luck in that regard.” I decided I needed to build up my resolve a bit, and went for the liquid kind, taking a drink from my flask. I wanted to tell someone what we’d done, but it was hard.

“Go on.” It was a different Rose this time.

I took a deep breath, and another sip. “Well, we didn’t get any money from that robbery, and neither of us had the stomach to try it again. At least, I didn’t, anyway, and I don’t think Matt did either.” The look on his face as he jumped into the car said it all. This had put him onto the straight and narrow. “He entered the priesthood after a while, I think probably for penance.”

“I got antsy a few years later. DNA evidence had come a long way, and there might be a way of proving that Matt had been at the store. And if he’d been, my alibi was shot.”

I guess the Rose who had wanted some sympathy out of me had made up her mind. “It’d serve you right.” I looked, and she seemed to have no more sympathy for me. I really didn’t either.

“Maybe so,” I agreed. “I wasn’t sure what to do, but then, when Rose and I went spelunking, something happened.”

I closed my eyes, and tried to push the next thing out of my mind. It wouldn’t go, so I backtracked. Maybe a delay would help. Probably not, but it was worth a try. “I should have said earlier, that one of our favorite things to do was explore caves. I had a good one on the property I had bought when I did make money.”

When I made money. Ha! What a laugh. I figured one, slight modification of the facts wouldn’t matter. The truth was, the airline finally had to admit that it was negligence on their maintenance program which caused the crash. Their out of court settlement meant that neither Rose or I would ever have to work.

“Anyway,” I went on with the story, “we were traversing a cavern, and Rose was ahead of me. All the sudden, the floor gave way under her! I jumped back, into a smaller shaft, and watched as the entire ceiling gave way. It was horrifying!”

I tried to push the memory out of my mind, but it wouldn’t work. I watched as the floor Rose was standing on crumbled below her feet. There was only the light from my lamp, but I didn’t need anything more. Somehow, I could see her face, although in reality, she was looking away from me. I saw the shock on her face as she started to fall. Then the shock became fear as her fall accelerated, and then, her expression became indescribable as she hit bottom.

I wish that it had been me that died in that cave.

“It came crashing down,” I said in an unemotional monotone. “There was now sunlight shining in from outside, and I could see around me. We had been inside a sinkhole as it formed.”

“I crept to the edge on all fours and looked down. I screamed her name, then I realized that wasn’t a good thing. The ceiling could fall on me at any moment.”

“I couldn’t see any sign of her, and I couldn’t imagine she could have survived the tons of rock that had crashed down on top of her.”

“I started weeping, but then the rock started to slough off at the edges of the hole, and I decided it would be the best thing I could do to head back the way I had come. Part of me said I should have stayed there and let myself be taken to my death too, but I just didn’t have the guts.”

“Too bad,” my moral compass Rose said.

I decided to ignore her. I agreed, but I wanted to finish my story. “I knew that the sinkhole would be on my property, so I made my way home the same way we had gone to the cave. On the way I came up with a crazy idea. It would solve (hopefully) my problem of the years ago robbery.”

I had forgotten to tell them about an important part of the story. It was how my becoming Rose came about. “When we were kids, we had played around fooling people with who was who.” I gave a bitter laugh. “I’ve read many TG stories where this is a common theme, but we actually did it. And we were good at it! We even had our parents fooled for a while one night. Well… Mom kept glancing at us. I think she knew something was up, but just couldn’t place her finger on it. Then, while we were watching tv, in a commercial, she had it. ‘Alright, you two. Go change back to yourselves. Enough is enough.’”

“We giggled as we ran off to change.”

“We tried it a few times when we were teenagers too. We had the look down, but I wasn’t great with all the actions.”

“But could I do it now? And permanently?” I thought back to those times. I could look just like my sister, but I didn’t act like her.

“I decided to try. If I didn’t think it would work, I would report her as having died. If I thought it would, I would report me as the one who died.”

“I got some clothes from her room, and was thankful that I was only about a half inch taller than her. I changed into them, and put on some makeup. I had longer hair, and mine was only a shade lighter than hers, but she had gotten hers highlighted. I tried walking like she did, and I was starting to get the hang of it when there was a knock on my door. I looked through the window and saw a USGS vehicle outside my door. I could feel my heart thudding in my chest, as I opened it.”

My moral compass seemed to be enjoying her criticisms. “Why did you open it? You could have changed back if he hadn’t seen ‘Rose’ there. You screwed up your own plans.”

I nodded, and gave a bit of a snerk. “I know, and what’s worse, I opened it wide. A woman wouldn’t have done that! If she didn’t know someone outside, especially in the country, she would have left it on the chain. I quickly closed it. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said, ‘I thought it was my brother forgetting his keys again,’ I kicked myself again. I hadn’t unlocked the door. I hope he didn’t notice.” I was really being stupid that day, but then again, I’d just watched my sister die.

“’I’m from the USGS, ma’am,’ he told me. ‘We got a report of a sinkhole developing on this property. We would like to survey it, if that’s alright.’”

“’My brother isn’t here to give permission, and he’s the property owner. It’s up to him,’ I said. I wasn’t sure I wanted them sniffing around there. My situation seemed to have gone from bad to worse. I suppose if she was found, I could say I was a transvestite, but then I put my foot in it. ’He’s spelunking in a cave on his land.’”

“’Ma’am, we have a survey of that cave. It looks like the sinkhole is associated with it.’ His tone was quite grim as he said it.”

“I had to let them search,” I told the women, “and now, I felt trapped as Rose whether I wanted to be or not. As time went by, and I remained talking to the USGS, police, and attorneys as Rose, I dug my hole deeper. I breathed a sigh of relief when the geological people decided that it was too unsafe to search for ‘Jeffery’s’ body.” I remembered the feelings I had that day. The Geological men told me that the ground was too unstable to get near. The entire cave had been destabilized by the collapse, and I was warned to never enter the cave. I was sorry that I wouldn’t be able to bury my sister properly.

“I found that what goes around, comes around. Matt had joined the priesthood as penance for the death of that poor kid in the convenience store, and I joined womanhood.”

“It usually does,” came from the moral compass, as expected

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I never had gender dysphoria, and until that day, I never had any whim to live as a woman. But I messed up, and had trapped myself living as my sister, permanently.”

“I’ve attended many of these conferences over the years, hoping to help me in my masquerade, and I believe I’ve learned a lot from them.”

“I actually convinced my current doctor that I was trans my entire life, and the records of my birth have been ‘corrected’. A few years ago, I transitioned completely because it seemed the rational thing to do. Not nearly as many questions.” I took a rather large drink from my flask, and scowled when I realized it was empty. I’d need to refill it if I was going to continue.

At last! Finally a different Rose asked, “Why’ve you told us this?”

My scowl grew deeper as I said, “I guess I have to get it off my chest before I die.” I sat for a few moments, then stood up. “I think I’m going to forego the rest of the convention.”

As I left, I reflected that I had been wrong. Telling others about it really didn’t make me feel better.

When I arrived home, I found a couple of boards in my garage, nailed them into a crude cross, and found a chisel to carve two names on it.

I realized that people would mistake who was who, forever, as I hammered the marker into the ground, but that was fine. It would mark the spot where she had died so many years ago, and where I could finally rest in peace.

I dropped the sledgehammer and walked toward the sinkhole.

Please don't forget to comment and leave Kudos!

A note from Rosemary: I have to admit, this only took me about 45 minutes to write. I was trying to think of something that I could write that I know quite a bit about. Naturally, the answer was trucking, but how to make it funny? This was the result.

A Comedy of Errors

A short story by Rosemary

August 2020

Doug North and his wife, Carol, were truckers. For many years, Doug had pulled flatbed all over the country, while Carol stayed home with the kids. Now that the kids were out of the house, Carol traveled with Doug.

On this particular day, they were in a backwater town, somewhere in the middle of northern Idaho, having just loaded up some treated fence posts. Doug was throwing a strap over the load when out on the two-lane highway, a car blew a tire.

It was a comedy of errors after that. Doug jerked his head around while the strap was flying over the load. Carol was on the other side of the trailer and moved in as soon as the strap settled. The 'J' hook had a bit of a sharp spot that neither had noticed, and that caught the back of Doug's jeans, just to the right of the centerline.

“What the hey?” Doug wondered at the sound from the highway.

Unfortunately, Carol thought he shouted, “Okay.”

She jerked the strap to make sure there was no slack in it.

The sound emitted by the driver was reminiscent of a bull crossed with a Doberman. Now, I'm not sure what that would sound like, but I'm pretty sure it would sound like Doug did at that moment.

“What’s wrong?” Carol called, hurrying around the trailer.

The back end of Doug's pants and underwear were sliced, as was a bit of his skin. There was blood leaking from his hind end, and there was a look of wonder and fury on his face.

“Why did you choose that moment to pull?” he asked, his voice just slightly below the decibel level of a jet getting ready for takeoff.

“You said, 'Okay'!" She returned.

“No, I didn't!"

“I heard you!”

“No! I said, 'What the hey'!"

By this time, she opened the side-box door and was looking for a rag with a semblance of cleanliness.

“The first aid kit is right behind my seat,” Doug said as he carefully moved up to where she was frantically looking.

She opened the driver’s door and found the white and red box, pulled it out and opened it. “There’s nothing long enough,” she told him, examining the size of all the gauze pads in the kit, and taking a measurement of the gash in her husband’s hiney.

Suddenly she thought of something. She climbed into the cab and started fishing through things in the sleeper. It wasn't long before she came out with a fresh pair of boxers for Doug and a pad from her stuff.

“Here,” she said.

“What!?" he asked, looking at the items.

“Well, you will need something to pad things as you drive, and this will also soak up any blood.”

“My seat should cushion my butt,” he told her.

“Yes, I know. Air ride seats are comfortable, but a truck isn’t.”

“We have air ride all the way around!” he argued.

“And you have air in your head, you idiot!" She pulled the paper off the pad and stuck it in the shorts. "Now, drop your pants and drawers!"

Slowly, he did, glowering. His pants and shorts were destroyed, and his backside wasn't much better. Carol took some gauze and water and cleaned the blood off of his backside. He stepped into the shorts and pulled them up, grimacing as he did.

“Now, where's some pants?" she asked him.

“These were my last,” he growled.

She just stared.

“We were heading to a Walmart with this load anyway, so I was just gonna get some there.”

“We’re going to a Walmart in Iowa. You were going to wait until we got there to get some more?

“Well, when I slipped on that gravel, I ripped the inseam on one pair. Then I spilled fuel on another and…."

“For crying out loud. Now what?”

“There’s a Walmart in Sandpoint. We can get some pants there.”

“You mean, I'll get some. What are you going to wear in?"

"Like I'd be out of place in a Walmart!"

“You know, this is pretty deep, Doug. We should get it looked at.”

“And tell the doctor what?”

“What happened.”

“Oh, for crying out loud. We're due in Iowa in seventy-two hours!"

“Do you want an infected ass?” she asked, starting to lose patience. She climbed back into the cab and came back with a skirt. “Put this on.”

Doug looked like he was going to faint. He looked at the skirt, then at his wife. "You've got to be kidding."

“Doug, have you got a better idea?”

He was embarrassed enough standing there in his tighty whities, but wearing a skirt would just about finish him off. Everyone had left the mill, but there was still traffic from the highway to contend with. Plus, the driver of the car changing his tire. By this point, he was simply standing beside his car, staring at Doug and Carol.

“At least, get me some pants?”

She laughed. "Do you really think you'd fit in my pants? They'd be shorts on you, and the ass would hurt like crazy." She was five foot two, and he was six-four.

“How am I supposed to put this on, then?” He asked.

“It unzips at the back, you idiot.” She took the skirt and pulled down the zipper. “It has belt loops, so we’ll hold it closed by your belt, and I can safety pin the zipper up as far as we can get it.”

“At least it’s denim,” he said as he pulled it on.

She cut a piece out of his ruined jeans and covered the white triangle at the top of his buttocks, then safety pinned the zipper in place.

“Ouch!” he exclaimed. “Wasn’t slicing my butt enough? Now you’re trying to sew a skirt onto me?”

“Hold still then!”

“Yeah," he muttered.

Soon, they finished tying down the load without further incident, and Doug carefully climbed into the cab. He lowered the pressure on his seat so it would give a bit more and fired up the big Cummins. He turned around the Freightliner and pulled out onto Highway 41.

Dropping off the hill into Oldtown, Idaho, he saw a sign saying 'No Compression Brakes.' "Hell with it," he muttered, as he switched on his Jake.

The Freightliner rattled down the hill, and they went through town. He turned right and crossed a bridge, only to come to a jump scale. An open jump scale.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” he roared. “Can anything else go wrong?”

Really, he shouldn’t have asked. As he rolled through the portable scales, the DOT officer waved him over to the side. Doug rolled down the window, and the DOT man stepped up so he could speak on the same level.

“We’re just doing routine inspections today, and….”

He stopped as he saw Doug’s skirt.

“Sir, I’m kinda new at this job. Would you excuse me for a moment?”

Silently, Doug nodded. In the jump seat, Carol was struggling to keep a straight face.

A moment later, the DOT man came back with his superior.

“Sir, would you mind stepping out of your truck, please?"

“As a matter of fact, yes.”

The senior man stepped up and saw that his partner was, in fact, correct. "You know, we don't get many crossdressers in this neck of the woods."

“I’m sure you don’t,” replied Doug.

“Can I see your license and logbook?”

Without a word, Doug reached for his wallet and extracted his CDL. Next, he reached into the pocket on the driver's door that held his log. He handed them to the officer.

The Dot guy looked at the license, then skimmed through the log. “Loaded at the pole yard in Blanchard?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He handed back the log and was about to step down to run the license when he stopped. "Mind explaining the skirt?"

At this, Carol couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing, and Doug glared at her. A moment later, he lost it too.

Laughing, he turned to the officer. "Your partner may as well hear this too. It's good for a laugh, but painful as hell."

Then he explained the situation to both officers as they stood on the steps of his Freightliner. When he finished, tears were rolling down the superior's face, he was laughing so hard.

The younger man’s whole body was shaking with laughter as well.

“Doug,” the DOT man said, as he handed back the CDL. “This has been one hell of a day, dealing with loggers coming though here, running over ninety thousand pounds, each one. You’ve just made my day. You two have a great trip. By the way, this was off duty.”

Both men stepped down, and Doug fired up his engine again. He took a moment to draw a line up to mark in ½ hour "off duty," rather than "on duty, not driving" as it should have been.

As they pulled out of the jump scale and headed east, Doug commented to Carol. “Maybe I should wear a skirt more often. It gets a person out of inspections.”

Once more, she lost it.

Picture by Micah Tindell on Unsplash.

I'd like to thank Malady and Hollis for their help going through this story.
I realize this is an overused title, but it just seemed to fit this story.

October 26th, 2012

Brandon Grey watched as the most beautiful woman in the world walked up the aisle toward him. His heart threatened to skip a beat one moment, then throw in an extra, the next.

For her part, Cammille Smith was radiant. This day was one she had been looking forward to for years. She was twenty-five years old, and she had wondered how this day would be since she started noticing boys.

As the couple said their vows, they both felt like they were dancing on air, and in fact, they appeared to be during the reception. Their first dance, while perhaps not the most skilfully executed, was beautiful due to the expression of love radiating from one to the other.

Cammi was originally from the Yukon Territory in Northern Canada, but she had been just passing through Omaha, Nebraska, on her way to Chicago, when she met Brandon at a gas station.

They’d both been filling their cars, and while it wasn't love at first sight, there was some kind of connection between them. They ended up talking in line getting snacks and then spending time sitting on the hard benches at one of the two tables near the obligatory gas station microwave. What the connection was, neither could say, but they felt as if they had known each other their whole lives.

Cammi was heading to a job interview at an oil conglomerate based in the Windy City. She had been working above the Arctic Circle on an internship, and was about to cement her experience into a full-time position. After meeting Brandon however, the job didn't seem as important as it once had, and she decided to return to Omaha rather than take the position offered.

For his part, Brandon was a meteorologist, and while he gave her his number and hoped he might see the gorgeous Cammi again, he didn't hold out much hope. Thus, it was with great surprise and elation that he answered the phone when Cammi called him a few days later, wanting to have dinner. It wasn’t an expensive meal, but it was relatively private, and they learned so much more about each other.

Brandon had been very independent as a kid. In fact, throughout high school, he had been considered a loner, constantly shying away from other people. After college, however, he started to change. He began to spend more time with the friends he had, and even started to make more.

Cammi was quite different. She had been very outgoing as a kid, making friends wherever she went. As she got older, she went the opposite way that Brandon had, becoming more withdrawn, but never becoming as much of a loner as he had been.

-=#=-

Eventually, the oil conglomerate realized how much they wanted Cammi on their team, but in the two months she had been in Omaha, she had become engaged to Brandon. There was nothing they could say to move her away from him, so they sent work her way, allowing her to work remotely in Omaha. It paid off for both her and the company.

-=#=-

At the wedding ceremony, Gary Brighton, Brandon's best friend and best man, watched the two and was thrilled for them both. He had been friends with Brandon since they were kids, and was happy to see him marry the woman of his dreams.

Gary was a somewhat strange person. He was into just about every conspiracy theory, except the flat earth stuff. He always said, "I know when enough's enough. Aliens at Roswell and Nessie can never really be proved false. You can't prove something doesn't exist. You can only prove it does, but believing in a flat earth is just plain stupid. Put all your chips in that, and you’ll go bust."

After the ceremony, Gary left Omaha. He had kicked around doing nothing for quite some time, but figured he needed to change. He worked hard, got his pilot's license, and eventually became a commercial airline pilot.

It was nearly ten years later that Gary’s path brought him back to Omaha. He had risen through the ranks as a pilot very quickly, and he usually flew abroad, but he wanted to see his mother after quite a long time being away. She had recently been diagnosed with an early onset of Alzheimer’s and he wanted to be there for her.

He requested, and got a flight from Los Angeles to Denver, and then on to Omaha. At Omaha, the flight would be taken over by another pilot, and he would stay on an extended leave.

A couple of days after he arrived, he ran into Cammi in a Trader Joe’s.

“Gary!” Cammi exclaimed when she saw him. She hurried up to him, and embraced him. “How’s your mom doing?”

“It’s really hard to tell,” Gary told her. “One day she seems to be okay, and the next, she seems to be really bad.”

“How long are you here for?”

Obviously, Cammi was in the loop and knew he had taken some time off.

“Well,” he said, “Mom is gonna need someone to stay with her for awhile, so I think I’m gonna be here for awhile. There’s a local run that goes from here to Chicago then St. Louis, then back here, for a parcel service that I’m thinking of taking.”

“Wouldn’t that be a drop in pay?” Cammi asked.

“Yeah, it would, but I need to be here for Mom.”

Cammi nodded, then said, “Looks like you’re getting set up for a nice meal tonight.”

Gary grinned. “Mom’s always loved Corned Beef and Cabbage. I wanna do something nice for her while she can remember it.”

“Why don’t you and her come over to our place tomorrow night?” Cammi said. “I know Brandon will want to see you, and I’d love to see Mama Brighton again.”

Gary smiled. “That sounds like a wonderful idea!”

They chatted for a few more minutes and then went their different ways. Gary headed home and found that his mother was doing pretty well, and they both enjoyed the Irish dish that he made.

-=#=-

The next night, Gary and his mother were seated in Brandon and Cammi’s living room. Mama Brighton was doing well that night, and she talked about some things Gary and “Mutie” had gotten into together when they were kids.

“Mutie?” Cammi asked.

Mama laughed. “It was a childhood nickname. Multifaceted as well. Brandon wanted a better-sounding name than Brandon.”

“Oh! I see,” Cammi exclaimed with a big smile on her face. “Brandon translates to Marlon because of Marlon Brando. Of course, Marlon Perkins was the host of Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom. Mutie is short for Mutual of Omaha.”

All three of the others simply stared. “H… h… how…?” Gary stammered.

Suddenly, the smile left Cammi’s face, and she looked perplexed. “I don’t know. It just suddenly seemed clear as day, but now it seems far-fetched that I would ever think of that. It’s not my type of humour, but I understand and appreciate it.”

She thought for a moment and then said, “It seems to me that your humor could come up with such a thing,” she said to her husband. “Right?”

“Yes, on both counts. My humor did come up with it, and yeah, that is the way it was decided. I honestly don’t remember telling you the story.”

Cammi laughed uncertainly. “You must have.”

-=#=-

Brandon lay in bed, listening to his wife quietly snoring. It was a bit of familiarity that comforted him at night if he couldn’t sleep. How she had figured out his nickname was a mystery to him. Of course, it wasn’t just Mutual of Omaha. It was also the fact that he’d been such a recluse when he was a kid. He didn’t want to mess with any other kids and was, in essence, mute around them.

He rolled over to look at Cammi. He knew she’d been very social as a child, but that seemed to be changing as she got older. It wasn’t that she was completely changed, but she just didn’t seem to want to spend as much time with other people.

How they both changed seemed to have brought them closer to the way each other seemed to be.

“What are you thinking?” Cammi asked, making Brandon jump a bit as he was startled out of his reverie.

“I thought you were asleep,” he told her.

“I was, but when you rolled over, you woke me up.”

“Sorry,” he told her “I didn’t intend to do that.”

“I didn’t think you did, Mutie.”

He laughed ruefully. “You know, no one's called me that in years.”

She giggled slightly. “Well, don’t you think it’s time someone started again?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think it has the ring to it that it once had.”

-=#=-

The next morning, Brandon was startled awake by a sound emanating from the en suite bathroom. It sounded like Cammi gagging, followed by splashing. He was immediately concerned and sat up, but then his mind went back through recent history.

“When was your last period?” he asked her after she brushed her teeth and made her way to the bed where she sat down on her side.

She pulled out her phone and glanced through her calendar. “Isn’t my calendar shared with you?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he told her. “I just wondered if you missed entering one.”

She flashed him a look like he was crazy.

“Sorry, Cam. Maybe I’m wrong, but it seems you’re getting a bit more… flexible, I guess, in regards to entries in your diary and things like that.”

She sighed. “Yes, I s’pose I am, but not about periods.”

He nodded. “Okay. I just wondered when I couldn’t find an entry for last month, that’s all.” He paused in thought for a minute, then asked, “Would you like me to pick up a test kit on the way home?”

She nodded. “May as well, although in light of the missed period, I think it’s pretty certain.”

He stood and made his way to her side of the bed. He bent down and placed a gentle kiss on her lips, then stood up. “I hope so.”

-=#=-

Cammi was showing her pregnancy. She was now in her second trimester, and was extremely happy that the early morning toilet breaks were over.

It was early afternoon, and she had just finished a Zoom meeting. She stood up and leaned back as far as she dared. The baby wasn’t a lot of weight, but it was enough to change her normal stance.

It was funny how such a change could modify her walk, the way she adjusted her stance… even the manner in which she arose from being seated.

It was almost like… She tried to remember, but couldn’t.

She stood with her eyes closed for several moments, trying to place the thought. She knew there was something. Perhaps deja-vu? It was a thought that was there, but completely unconnected with anything else.

She pondered the strange sense for quite some time, but couldn’t resolve it. Finally, she lay down and drifted off to sleep.

-=#=-

Brandon looked at the radar screen before him. It showed a powerful thunderstorm approaching from the south. Glancing around the room he saw different screens showing information from all over the world. Volcanoes. Auroras. Earthquakes. A tsunami was projected to hit the coast of Chile.

Something struck him as familiar. What was it? He tried to place it, but it seemed the more he thought about it, the more elusive it became. What did it mean? How was it familiar?

He put it out of his mind and focused on the forecast he was projecting.

-=#=-

Two days later was Saturday, and Gary came over for dinner. He brought with him a young woman with whom he had made several rounds to Chicago, St Louis, and back to Omaha. Her name was Lucinda, and she was a very competent pilot.

Lucy and Gary spent enough time together to get to know each other quite well, and were taking the next step to that of a personal relationship.

Mama Brighton wasn't present on this night. Instead, she was visiting with her sister, up from Wichita, Kansas.

Over barbecued pork, fries, and okra, Brandon told everyone about the feelings he had Thursday.

"I hate deja-vu," Lucy commented.

"I had a similar situation that day, too," Cammi offered, laughing. "I went to stand up, and found it strange how much just a little bit of weight throws your balance off."

"How's that deja-vu?" Gary asked her.

"It reminded me of something. It was the same feeling I had back when I was an apprentice archaeologist." She stopped talking for a moment as more of the situation came to her from the past.

"I was finishing up working in a dig because there was a thunderstorm coming. It was supposed to be really big. When I stood up, I felt strange."

"Thunderstorm again," Lucy said. "You mentioned thunderstorms too," she pointed out to Brandon.

"Yeah. But I didn't have the feeling of deja-vu until I looked around the room."

"What did you see?" Cammi asked.

"Several things. One of my assistants was working on the effects of all the volcanoes with the climate. There's also supposed to be some Aurora Australius out tonight. Of course, that's only way south, over Antarctica."

"Must be cold down south," Gary commented.

"That's something I'd forgotten!" Cammi exclaimed. "There was an Aurora that night."

Brandon turned to stare at her. “There was in my case too. And a huge amount of lightning. It was one of those nights where it’s kinda reversed. Instead of occasionally lighting up because of lightning, it occasionally went dark when the lightning stopped.”

It was Cammi’s turn to stare. “That’s exactly what happened where I was at. It was really strange there. I know we get storms like that here, but that was completely out of the ordinary where I was.”

“Maybe it was April of 2007,” Brandon said, laughing too. “I was just walking home from a restaurant. It was probably about 9PM.”

“8:45 maybe?” Cammi said. She wasn’t laughing. “April 27th, 2007?”

Brandon stopped laughing. “Could be. Sounds about right.”

“It’s so weird,” Cammi said. “I can see myself walking home from Chili’s in a lightning storm, but then it’s like an explosion of light and I can’t see any more.”

“That’s really weird. It was Chili’s I went to,” Brandon laughed again.

“Maybe your souls touched for a minute,” Gary said, ever the conspiracy theorist.

“What was I doing?” Cammi asked Brandon.

Brandon jokingly struck a meditative pose, closed his eyes and couldn’t keep from sing-songing “Ommmmm.”

Cammi slapped at her husband, laughing, and he opened his eyes. Leaning toward her, he gave her a peck on the lips, then, straightening up, he closed his eyes and seriously started thinking about his wife and that night.

He knew that his wife had been working in an archaeological dig, and he imagined her working in a pit, brushing off a bone.

But it wasn’t a bone. Or was it? Yes, it was. But there was some kind of carving on it.

Suddenly, he wasn’t watching, but working on the dig himself. He carefully brushed the bone off. A word came to his mind. Scrimshaw. He… No, she carefully searched below the bone. It had the typical shape of a handle. Sure enough, there was a slate blade under it. Gingerly brushing it off, she cleaned the soil away from it. It was an ulu. Somehow, Brandon knew the word, although he was certain he’d never heard it before. She lifted the ulu out of the ground and stood.

Suddenly, it was as if there was an explosion. An enormous flash of light that completely obscured the aurora above her.

A moment later, he was in his own body. He picked himself up off the ground and surveyed the area surrounding him. For a moment it seemed strange. He didn’t recognise it, but his memories quickly coalesced into something he knew.

He was in between Chili’s and home. He started to walk, and his vision started to shift. Once more, he was seated on the recliner in his current home, beside Cammi.

Shaking, he opened his eyes and focused on his wife. “That was weird.” He took a deep breath and asked, “Does the word scrimshow mean anything to you, Hon?”

“Not scrimshow, but scrimshaw. It’s carving in bone, usually done by whalers, although I’ve seen several uluit with scrimshaw on the handles.”

“Uluit? Is that plural for ulu?”

“Yeah, it is. In fact, that night, I pulled an ulu out of the ground just before there was an enormous flash in the sky.”

She paused and gave her husband, who was slowly nodding, a surprised look. “How did you know?”

“I didn’t until a moment ago. In fact, I’d never heard either word. Scrimshaw, or Ulu. But as I picked them up, I knew the words.”

“You picked them up?” Gary asked.

“Yeah. Somehow, I was looking through Cammi’s eyes.”

Cammi wasn’t sure what to make of it, but when she saw Brandon on the way home that night, she had seen through his eyes. It was weird!

“Maybe it was a lightning strike. Crossed your memories for a moment,” Gary said, semi-serious.

Brandon gave a snerk. “Or maybe I used to be Cammi, and she used to be me.”

“I saw a really bright explosion when I was seeing through your eyes, too,” Cammi said.

“Seeing through my eyes?” Brandon asked.

“Yeah. I experienced almost the same thing,” she confirmed.

The four talked some more for a little while, then Gary and Lucy left. They were scheduled to fly to Chicago in the morning.

-=#=-

Gary watched the weather radar as they flew over Iowa. It was interesting. Lightning was flashing out of a clear blue sky. It was really weird.

They wouldn’t be in the air for much longer, and he was going to be happy to touch down at O’Hare airport.

Lucy answered the Des Moine air traffic control, and Gary reached forward, telling the autopilot to reduce their altitude. Hopefully they’d be able to go under the electrical storm.

All of a sudden, there was a flash and the aluminum skin on the starboard of their plane glowed from the strike. The plane shook and several sparks flashed in the cockpit.

Gary’s vision faded out for a moment. When it came back, he felt strange. He was on the other side of the cockpit! He looked to his left, and saw his own body shake its head. Then the strangeness started to fade.

Why had she thought she was Gary, Lucy wondered. But then that thought faded, and once more, she was the co-pilot while her boyfriend, Gary Brighton, glanced at her. She told the ATC that they had descended to their new altitude, and the two continued their flight.

A note from Rosemary: This story is a story of a Christian trans-girl in the early '80s, and how she and her parents dealt with it. It is just that. A story. I am not trying to foist my beliefs upon anyone.

It is not autobiographical, but it's certainly how I wish things might have turned out for me. I can honestly say that I've never had a pastor like the one in this story, but it is very close right now, for which I am very grateful.

Alex

Alex was a teenager. He was 16 years old, and still unsure what to do with himself.

In school, he had been the butt of everyone's jokes for so long that he said he had no feelings regarding it any more. But that simply wasn't true. Saying that, and actually feeling it were two completely different things.

He had never fit in. His peers shared none of his interests. Where he liked reading, they were jocks. He was into creating music. They wanted pounding bass and drums as loud as they could get it.

He simply had no friends. He had tried to mask in public, and his real problem was still hidden. But the masking had not made him seem reasonable by the standards of his peers. If anything, it made him more of an enigma as far as they were concerned.

At least they didn't suspect what was really going on. He was transgender. Thank God they hadn't suspected that yet. Had they, life would have been much worse.

He had the option of returning to the public school, but that wasn't really an option. It had been much worse there. A Christian school at least offered the appearance of safety as long as no one suspected. He was meticulous in putting just the right amount of shock and disbelief in his voice and attitude if someone suggested that he might be gay.

The fact was, of course, he liked guys. But not because he was gay, but because he wasn't a guy himself. He was a girl and had always been. It's just that no one else knew it, and therein lay his problem.

He knew that he was supposed to be a guy. Everyone said so. Even the Bible, and he wasn't going to argue with it! But how to live with the problem.

He flopped down on his bed and picked up his walkman. He took out the Resurrection Band cassette and put in a Petra album. It was a new one, Never Say Die. As it played, he was getting into the music, but then, a song called For Annie¹ started up. In it, a girl, Annie, was terribly depressed and ended up committing suicide by taking a bunch of pills.

He didn't want that. Not at all. It was late at night, so he went to bed. He still had a couple of weeks to decide if he was going to the Christian school this year, or back to the public. He wasn't deciding that evening.

He didn't sleep well, a problem his mom noticed in the morning.

"Good morning, Alex. You look like you didn't sleep. Nightmare?"

It had been a standard excuse when he didn't sleep to blame it on bad dreams. This time, however, he didn't want to blame it on an untruth, not was he ready to come out to anyone, so he simply said, "No."

"Were you reading too late?"

"No, Mom. I wasn't."

"Then what's wrong, Sweetheart?"

Now, he wished he'd gone with the nightmare story. "I don't know, " he answered, giving the teenage staple answer.

His mom raised an eyebrow in a very Vulcan expression but decided not to press it. Obviously, something was bugging her son, but he didn't want to talk about it. He was sixteen, so she wondered if he was pining over a girl. It was likely.

Later that evening, he wanted to come clean with his parents, but he was afraid. They were good, solid Christians, and he tried to be. So how did it fit together? How could he admit that he was a girl when it was wrong?

When he went to bed, he listened to the song again. It tugged at his heartstrings. He was afraid that if he didn't figure something out, and soon that he would become the next 'Annie.'

He took the featherweight headphones off and stopped the tape. He got out of bed and knelt beside it.

"Oh, God. I don't know what to do. I know what I feel, but it's wrong. I need help. I can't get out of this funk. What do I do?

He knelt there for a long time, listening for an answer, but nothing that he could detect gave him an answer.

Getting back into bed, he remembered something his youth leader had talked about on Wednesday night. It was about honoring your parents. Most of the kids didn't take too kindly to the message, but he had tried to listen.

He loved his parents, and he knew that they loved him, but what to do? Could he trust them and tell them? They would try to help. They'd have his best interests at heart. That wasn't in question, but would it be an answer that he could live with?

The next day was Sunday, and as he sat in Sunday School, the teacher was talking about seek, and ye shall find. Knock, and the door shall be opened. Ask, and it shall be given. He thought about it in his situation and could only scoff. "yeah, right. I've been asking and nothing."

In Church, the message was on Trusting the Lord.

Alex thought about what he had been hearing. Trust the Lord. He wanted to, but this was something he just wasn’t sure about. That would mean telling his parents about it, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to do that just yet.

Nevertheless, that afternoon, he sat down with his parents to talk to them.

"I've been having some problems, " he told them.

"A girl?" His mom asked.

"Yes, " he said without thinking, then, "Well no. It's not what you're thinking."

"What is it? You know we love you, and we're here to help."

"I know. But this is really hard." He looked at them both. Saw their concerned expressions. " I'm a girl.". There. He'd said it.

His parents looked at him, quizzically. Finally, his dad gave a little laugh. "Oh, I thought you were going to be serious."

"I am Dad."

"No. You're not. You're a teenage boy."

"I've prayed about it, and I know there's something different up here. I'm a girl."

"Well then, you haven't prayed hard enough," his dad said heatedly.

"Bill!" Alex' mom said sharply. Her husband looked at her sharply.

"Sorry, Son. I just don't believe that people can be born with the wrong brain for their body."

"You know what the Bible says about this, Alex, " his mom said.

"Sure. It also says to honor your father and mother. Today, Pastor Buck was talking about trusting the Lord, and I did. I was hoping I wouldn't be in trouble because of how I feel." He looked at his dad. "So much for that idea." He stood up. "Excuse me."

He didn't wait for a response. He just left the room.

"You know what, Bill? Sometimes you can be so dense."

"What did I do, Lydia?"

"You shut him down immediately."

"It's a sin!"

"No, it's not. According to scripture, putting on female apparel is a sin. Laying with another man is a sin. Not having those feelings."

Bill realized what she was saying. "I'll talk to him."

He stood and went to knock on Alex' door.

"Go away."

"Alex. I'm sorry for my reaction."

"But?"

"No buts, Alex. 'But' would negate my apology. It would imply that I had a justifiable reason, and I didn't. I overreacted."

He heard a sigh and then, "Come in."

Bill opened the door. He walked over to a chair beside the bed and asked, "Can I sit down?"

Alex pulled a Kleenex® out of the box on his bedside table and blew his nose. His eyes were red-rimmed.

"Can you tell me more about what you're feeling?"

In response, Alex handed his dad the record cover to Never Say Die. "For Annie, " he said, simply.

Bill read the lyrics to the song, then looked over his reading glasses at Alex. "Is this how you're feeling, Son?"

"Not yet, but I'm getting there."

Bill sat and thought. This was incredibly serious. He had no idea how Alex felt, but if he was getting suicidal, he wanted to figure it out. "Alex, " he finally said. "I don't understand, but I want to. Before you do anything to hurt yourself, please let me do some research. I can't guarantee that I will understand, but I can guarantee that I love you, and I will help you in any way I can."

"What if I decide to become a girl?"

"Let me research it?"

"But what if you find that I'm right?"

"If I find out that you're right, Alex, I will support you, okay?"

Alex nodded, and Bill stood. He was a doctor and had a ready supply of medical textbooks, so he could start research that day.

"Daddy?" He heard when he got to the door. He wasn't sure what he thought of the typically female way of addressing him, but he resolved to say nothing at the moment.

"Yes?"

"Can you not call me 'son'? It doesn't help me right now."

"I'm not sure I can refer to you as a girl. Alex can be a girl's name too. Is that alright?"

Alex smiled and nodded.

"Okay, Alex." He left the room and went to his office.

At the doorway, Lydia stopped him and gave him a huge kiss. "That's the man I married."

"You were listening."

"Are you surprised?"

He smiled. "No, not really. You want to help me research this?"

"Church starts in a couple of hours, " she replied.

He shook his head. "Alex is more important to me. I'm going to try to figure this out."

"Where do we start, " she asked.

She was an RN and worked in her husband's office with him, and they read late into the night. Monday the practice wasn't open, because there were people for whom Saturday was the only viable option, so they were open then. Several times, they showed each other something found in a book and discussed it's merits - and prayed for God's direction.

Finally, they called it a night. Lydia went to check on Alex. The teenager was sleeping, but it seemed restless. Carefully, she closed the door.

"How is he?" Bill asked.

"Sleeping."

Bill nodded. From her tone, it obviously wasn't a great sleep.

-=#=-

In the morning, Alex got up and realized that his parents must have stayed up late. They were still sleeping. He fixed himself some breakfast, then went into his room and started reading. He couldn't concentrate, though.

Finally, he got down on his knees to pray. He felt his heart pounding in his chest from nervousness. "Dear Lord, " he began. "You know how I feel. I keep wondering why you would make me the way I am if it's a sin? I've never done anything to encourage this. It's just been there all my life. How do I deal with it?"

He stopped and just listened. His pastor always said to listen, don't just talk. He kept hearing the same thing over and over. "Trust me."

That was for me, he thought. It had to be. But what did it mean? Was God going to take the feelings away? That would certainly make his life easier, but he knew that he would be a different person, and that scared him.

He heard his mom in the kitchen and went out to see her getting a skillet out. She looked rough.

"I'll do that, Mom."

"Thanks, honey. Daddy and I were up late."

He got some eggs and bacon out. "Mom, how come you always refer to him as 'Daddy' when you talk to me?"

"I guess because I always call my daddy that. I don't think I'm comfortable saying 'dad'."

Alex nodded. "I'm not either."

Before long, Bill walked into the kitchen. He saw that Alex had made breakfast and put his arm around his shoulder. "Thanks, hon, " he said, kissing Alex on the forehead.

"What's going on?"

"Sit down, " Bill told him.

Alex sat slowly. He was hopeful but cautious.

"I remembered something last night, and knew which books to look in."

"We discussed it and prayed about it, and I just got off the phone with Pastor Buck. Your Mom and I are going to talk to him next Monday."

"Can I come to?" Alex asked.

"We discussed that, and I'm not sure it's a good idea. We might be separating from the church and you don't need to hear what is said if we do. I don't think it would do you any good."

Alex' heart leaped. It sounded like his parents might have decided he was right. "Does that mean...?" He couldn't finish.

"We'd like you to see a therapist that we know of. She's helped a lot of people like you. Some she has said just have a clothes fetish, but others, she has recommended for sex-change surgery."

"Do you think I just have a fetish?" Alex asked, his face showing distaste.

"Some people do, but you have a level head on your shoulders. I don't think so."

"You avoided my question earlier, Dad."

"I know I did. This is hard, S... Alex. I've believed a certain way for most of my life, but what we read last night tells us that this is very possible, and our prayers last night said to stand by you. We're going to do that."

"What about the scriptures?"

"Alex, I don't know. That's one of the questions that I have for Pastor Buck."

"So you're not standing by me," Alex said.

"Yes, we are, " said his mom.

"Like I said, we read that this is very possible. You told me that you were heading towards possible..." He couldn't even say the word. "We are going to tell Pastor Buck what we found. The ball as far as our continued church attendance there will be in his court. Your well-being, however, is not. God gave you to us to raise and protect. You are out responsibility, and that's the way it is."

"But what if I'm the therapist says that I'm trans?"

"You can't have surgery until you're eighteen. If she recommends it, we will pay for the surgery, " his mom told him.

Alex' mind was reeling. Was this really happening? Was this just his hopes playing out in a dream? He pinched himself and his dad laughed.

"No, Alex. This is real. You're not dreaming."

"What is it's a sin?"

Bill smiled. "Our reference books weren't just textbooks. We prayed a lot, and looked at scripture."

"How people can miss what we found is beyond me, " Lydia said.

"You think I'm your..."

"We are cautiously saying you very well might be our daughter, not our son."

-=#=-

The week flew by for Alex. He wanted to be Alexandria, but he wanted to allow his parents to talk to the Pastor first. His parents had left that up to him, and he told them he had been Alexander for 16 years. One more week wouldn't kill him, literally or figuratively. He knew what the therapist would find out, so he had the rest of his, or rather, her life to be Alexandria.

-=#=-

Bill and Lydia went in to see Pastor Buck the next Monday. Neither of them had slept well. They feared what this could turn into. That's why they had decided not to bring Alex with them.

They sat down, and told the pastor about Alex, and their research, including their findings.

He said nothing, except to clarify a few medical details. When they were finished, he asked them, "so you feel that it's not a sin for Alex to live as a woman?"

"No, we don't, " Bill said.

Pastor Buck nodded. "I've known Alex since he was a baby. He's a good boy, or perhaps I should just say child. You are both very good at your profession. You've been my doctor for a lot of years, Bill. I know your research is very thorough." He sighed. "I have no question as to your research at all." He laughed. "I'm a pastor, Bill. Not a doctor." All three of them laughed. I would like to research what I can, but I want to tell you something, and this is very hard to say. Just like you, I'm here for the sick. I have an idea how people would respond to this." He sighed. "If my research bears you out, and I believe it will, then there is no way I will ever say that Alex becoming a girl is a sin. But I'm here for the sick, Bill."

"I know, Ron." The two had become friends several years ago, and did a lot of fishing and golfing together. Bill understood what he was saying.

The Pastor nodded. "I am not saying that I need to keep up appearances..."

Bill interrupted. "Sure you do. You don't want to push people a way from God."

"To cause anyone to stumble, " Ron said. "Bill, Lydia, I know the scriptures you are referring to. I agree with you."

"How long should we stay away?" Lydia asked quietly.

"You have to let your daughter be herself, and I have to work into this. As an independent church, I can do it. I'm going to have to talk to the board, then the congregation. The last thing I want is for some of our people to not be friendly to Alexandria." He looked at the lyrics to the song that Alex had shown her father. "That is absolutely not a thing to happen at her church."

-=#=-

Ron Buck wasn't surprised when two of his board members quite the church. He had expected it. Another older deacon said, "I will love anyone, Pastor, but I disagree with your view in this. I believe it's sin."

"What if you find that it's not a sin?"

"I'll welcome Alex with open arms anyway."

"And?"

"Then I will publicly announce I was wrong."

"Fair enough, " Ron said.

It was two years later, when the old deacon set up a meeting for his pastor and Bill.

They entered Bill's house and were welcomed by an eighteen year old girl. "Hello, Alexandria, " Pastor Buck said. "How are you today?"

"Doing well, Pastor."

The old deacon looked at the young girl and held out his hand. Hesitantly, she reached out with hers. With all the gallantry of a southern gentleman, he kissed it. "Please forgive me, Alexandria."

She was unable to speak. She just nodded as the two went into her dad's office.

The old man looked ashamed, and hurried into his reason the meeting. "My granddaughter came to talk to me the other day. She says that she's a boy in the wrong body." He sighed. "I owe you an apology Bill. It's gotten personal for me, and I shouldn't have had to be convinced to talk to you like this. Will you show me your research?"

Bill smiled.

Emojis by OpenEmoji

Aurora

A Short Story by Rosemary

August 2020

I was born in the lower 48, back in the 1963. My dad was an engineer for an oil company, and my family moved around a lot.

When I was seven, something happened. I began to realize that I was looking at girls. My mom caught me one day, and told me it wasn't polite. Besides, I was too young to be checking out girls.

I told her, "I just think her dress is nice."

I think that's when we both started to realize that I was different. It was cool though. Dad had been discussing things with his boss, and they were talking about working with some oil outfit in Alaska. Something about a huge pipe crossing the state. Eight hundred miles, it was supposed to be.

So, he spent a lot of time going back and forth between our home in Galveston, Texas and Anchorage, Alaska.

My name is Diego Garcia, by the way. I guess you should probably know that. I was named for my father, whose name is Jacobo. Diego is James in English, but it can also be translated Jacob. My parents thought it would be humorous to name me after my father, but with a different form of the name. Mom's name was Juanita.

When I was eight, I sat down with my mom and told her that I really wanted to be a girl. I thought something was wrong with me because I really thought I was a girl.

While Dad was gone on his trips, mom allowed me to dress as a girl around the house, and every so often, we would go on a trip to Houston with me dressed up. It was great! When I was a girl, my name was Melina.

Then one day, Mom told me that Dad would be back that afternoon. I hurried to change back into Diego, much as I didn't want to, but Mom said no. It was time Daddy met Melina.

Daddy? I never called him that, but it sure seemed right! I was scared when we went to the airport, though. I was Melina! And my daddy was going to meet me as her for the first time. In front of all these people. I wasn't just scared, I was petrified!

When I saw Daddy come through the gate, I hid behind my mom. Daddy and Mom kissed, then he picked me up, and gave me a big kiss. "Hello, Melina. It's nice to meet you finally."

My eyes had to have been the size of saucers. "You're not mad?"

"Why would I be mad at my little girl?"

We went home, and I was so happy, I chattered to Daddy the whole way. He just shook his head. I finally asked him why he kept doing that.

"You're so different than Diego. So much more alive."

I think that's when Mom and Daddy decided I was much better off being a girl.

For three years, I would run home and become Melina after school, and during the summer months, I was Melina full time. I was ecstatic.

Then something happened that both scared me and thrilled me. The Alyeska Pipeline Service Company in Anchorage contracted with my dad's company, and we moved to Alaska.

We moved to a little town called Chugiak, about twelve miles north of Anchorage. It didn't really seem like a town, the houses were so spread out. Our nearest neighbor was hidden behind a bunch of spruce trees.

Now, I was Melina full time, summer and winter. Mom decided to home school me. It would have been tough to get my records changed from Diego to Melina in 1973.

We lived there for many years, and even after the Alyeska Pipeline was finished, we stayed there. Daddy stayed on contract with them, and he bought our house.

I must have been eleven I met Kenny. He lived in the house behind the spruce trees, and it was June, just after the elementary schools let out. Kenny was twelve, and we hit it off real well.

All summer, we went to Fire Creek to go fishing. The creek was about three feet wide, and we could almost drop a line into the water and immediately pull out a Dolly Varden. They weren’t big, but if you caught six or seven, you had a nice addition to dinner that night.

Our parents got along pretty well too, and we often would have dinner together. That fall, Daddy and Kenny’s dad went hunting together. Both got a moose, and we had some good steaks that year. On Christmas, I was surprised when Kenny made me a carving of a fish, like we had caught all summer. It was rough, but I could see that he had budding talent.

I was unhappy that I wasn’t able to go to school at Chugiak Elementary, where he was, but I couldn’t go as Melina, and I didn’t want him to see me as Diego, so I figured homeschooling was the best route for me.

The next summer followed much the same as the last. I wanted to tell Kenny about my secret, but I was scared. One night, after we had spent all day fishing, we went to the movie theater with his parents and saw the movie, Benji, about a dog who saves the day for two kids that are abducted. All through the movie Kenny had his arm around me, and I snuggled in.

That night, I talked to my mom about it.

“So you have a crush on him?” Mom asked.

“No, not just a crush, Mom.”

“Honey, you’re only twelve. I don’t think you know what love between a man and woman is all about. I don’t think I’d tell him. He doubt he’d understand.”

I was upset with her, but in retrospect, she was right. I didn’t know.

The next winter was much the same. We went to movies with both of our parents, as if they were encouraging our friendship, but Mom still cautioned me.

The next summer, however, when I turned fourteen, I had had enough of him not knowing. We were at fire creek again, and I spoke to him.

“Kenny, I’ve got something I need to tell you.”

“Okay,” he said, pulling a fish off his hook. He put another “Balls ‘O Fire®” on his hook, as the fish had managed to get that off.

“I’m really a boy.”

He looked at me kinda strangely. “Why would you say that?”

“Because I am.”

He didn’t say anything more, and I was happy that he didn’t. I thought things were fine, but on the way home, he asked, “Is that true?”

“What?”

“That you’re a boy?”

“Yes,” I said, still happy that it was out in the open.

Again, he didn’t say anything more, but the rest of the summer, he didn’t want to go fishing, and there were no more movies.

“Well, at least you’re not fooling him anymore,” Mom said one evening when I was really dejected.

The next summer, Kenny once again went fishing with me, but our relationship had changed. One day he asked me, “Why do you dress as a girl?”

“Because I am one,” I said.

“Last summer you said you were a boy. Which is it?”

“Physically, I’m a boy, but where it matters, in my mind, I’m a girl.”

“I see,” he said.

The next three years, we maintained a friendship, but it was like I was an actual boy, not what is now called a trans-girl.

I hated it, but I loved it. I had made a mistake telling him, but I was glad we were still friends. I hoped that one day he might understand, and I could be his girlfriend, and eventually more.

When Kenny was eighteen, he moved in to Anchorage to take up psychology at the Alaska University. I had finished schooling, and went as well. Since my secret was exposed to Kenny, I figured if I had to attend as Diego, I would. I was working toward my medical doctorate, because I was hoping to be able to help people like me.

Unfortunately, I was forced to attend as Diego, at least on the academic records. The school didn’t like me dressing in women’s clothes, but there wasn’t any dress code, so they couldn’t say much.

I started seeing a therapist, hoping to be able to have surgery as soon as I was eighteen, and able to make that decision. Daddy and Mom were all for it, and he had made enough money working with Alyeska Pipeline that there would be no problem affording it. He and Mom had given me a present of enough money to afford it and more.

I had bought a little Datsun car that I drove to and from the university, and when I was done on Tuesdays, I went to see my therapist.

Ken, as he now went by, and I commuted together, even on those days, and it seemed that our relationship was starting to change again. I had pleaded with the university to not reveal to anyone my secret, and they agreed not to. Transgender sexual activity was considered legal in 1980, and Ken and I were generally considered to be a couple. I did nothing to change that assumption, and neither did Ken.

I turned eighteen the summer of 1981. I had admired Renée Richards, and I searched for the hospital where she had her surgery done, since it was a success.

By fall, I was a real girl! Ken knew that I had the surgery, but once again, said nothing about our relationship.

When we started university that year, people had no knowledge of what I had done, and once again neither of us enlightened them.

I was asked if I was still Ken’s girlfriend. I had no idea what to say, so I simply asked why he wanted to know.

“I’d like to take you out.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not interested.” I told him.

At Christmas, I was once again surprised when Ken gave me another carving. This one was an intricately carved caribou, and I was astonished at the detail. I knew I would treasure it forever.

That night was cold. It was clear outside, and the stars were out. I was busy thinking about my future, so I went outside to see the stars. What I saw as well was breathtaking. The Northern Lights were out in full force. Blues, Greens, Violet! It was beautiful.

I was staring up when I realized that someone was beside me. I felt another hand touching mine, and I looked at the person. It was Ken. He grasped my hand, and we stood in the snow and cold, gazing upward.

As we stood there, I noticed that my parents had come out of the house, but they walked around to the other side. They must have seen that we were holding hands, because there wouldn’t be nearly as good a view from the east side of the house.

As the lights danced overhead, Ken gently turned my face toward his, and kissed me. Suddenly the cold night didn’t bother me at all.

“I love you,” he said softly.

My brain absolutely refused to form any words, so I did the next best thing. I gave him a long, passionate kiss.

Epilogue

We were not able to be married in Alaska, so we lived together until we could. Ken got his doctorate in Psychology, and I received my MD. He was much more successful than I was, as people didn’t seem to want to be treated by a man who dressed as a woman. Thankfully, we had a building that allowed both of us a private practice.

I had a hard time getting a court to agree to me changing my legal name to Melina, but eventually it was done, and I convinced the Alaska University to issue me a new doctorate in my legal name, which slowly allowed me an increase in patients. Generally, they were new people to the area.

Eventually, I was able to change my birth certificate, and my driver’s license to match who I really was, and finally, Ken and I were able to say our vows. That was the happiest day of my life!

https://unsplash.com/photos/a-group-of-people-on-horses-herding-cattle-i...

---

Thanks to Malady for going through this after I spent a sleepless night writing this one.

---

I’m really not sure why I did it, but I was young at the time.

I rode into town after being paid. We all did. Anyone who spent so much time on the trail had a tendency to want some time in the company of the opposite sex.

And, while you were waiting for said company, you might as well loosen up a bit. Most of the brothels were upstairs of a saloon, so it was only natural to spend some time in both areas.

I was generally known as Cookie, which was not a problem as I did the cooking for our boys.

I’m a little older than most of them, except the trail boss who’s known only as Stumpy. It’s kinda strange, him being the boss, as somewhere in the past he’d lost his right leg. The legend is he had a run-in with a rattlesnake at some point. Nobody seems to know the true story but him and one other person, and Stumpy isn’t telling anyone who that is.

Stupid me, I’m not great at telling stories. I kinda get things out of order in the way I tell them.

Let’s go back to that time back when Austin was Boss.

As I said before, I went into town, and I was in the saloon, waiting my turn. I was getting pretty drunk, and I vaguely remember a gal coming up to me and asking if I was wanting some company.

I wasn’t at the bar at the moment. Actually, I was losing a whole bunch of my wages in a poker game. I pointed at myself, and she gave me a nod.

Now, you gotta understand. I didn’t look like I do now, at the time. I was a really skinny guy. Short. Never did get tall, but I can cook! So I was kinda surprised when the gal asked me if I was looking for company. I figured I was gonna have to wait for the end of the run. It’s how it usually happened.

We went up to the third floor, and that’s about all I remember. I’m not sure what happened after I took my boots off.

What I do remember next is waking up in the bed, completely disrobed. The gal wasn’t there, but I saw her dress hanging from the hook she’d put it on the night before. It was a blue gingham dress, which with my clearer mind, seemed kinda strange for a saloon girl to wear. Generally they wore more showy clothes.

Clearer mind, I say. I was thinking a bit more clearly, but I had a massive headache. It was coming from the back of my head. I noticed it was daylight outside, primarily because looking anywhere near the window made my headache worse. And I was looking all over. I wasn’t sure where my clothes had gotten to.

There was a knock on the door, and that just made my head throb.

“Up an at ‘m,” came a call from the hallway. “I need this here room! Ya only paid for one night!”

I winced at the barkeep’s voice. It made things even worse. “I can’t find my clothes,” I said weakly.

“Come on!” the man yelled back. “Find ‘em and get outta here! Blue checks!”

What? My head was hurting bad now, but I wanted the yelling to stop. I looked around desperately. I didn’t see my clothes, but I saw the dress. Blue checks.

Wait a minute, I thought fuzzily. Why would he think I’d wear that dress? It wasn’t mine.

I heard the man’s footsteps thump down the hall. I couldn’t help it. Each step made my head thump too. I was sitting on the bed, a place where I’d had to plant my backside at the man’s booming voice.

I lay down for a few minutes hoping the pain would diminish. It didn’t, but I started to acclimate to it. I finally sat up and looked around again. There wasn’t much in the room. Just a chair and table, a few nails in the wall, and the bed that was my current perch.

Had the woman had more clothes in the room? I wasn’t sure. Hanging from a nail in the wall was a bag. I wondered if my clothes were in there. It was obviously hers, but maybe they’d gotten in there for some reason.

I was a bit unstable on my feet, but I made it to the wall, stumbling over something. I looked down and there were her boots. Buttons, and a bit of a raised heel.

Where was she? I put my hand on the back of my head and felt a goose egg. What the heck?

It dawned on me that my poke was in my clothes. Have we been robbed? That would explain the obvious place where I’d been hit. What was I hit with? I suddenly looked at the bed with dread. What if she was under it? I made my way over to it, and carefully knelt down. My head throbbed as I lowered it to peer under it. Whew! No girl.

But where… I suddenly remembered taking off my gunbelt and hanging it over the chair back. It wasn’t there now. She’d been in the chair, taking off her boots. Did she…?

I hated to think that she might have hit me, but it seemed to make sense. But why take my clothes? I had come to the conclusion that if she’d hit me, she’d probably taken my clothes. Unless she’d had someone else with her.

I finally decided I’d have to put on the dress. I opened the bag and sure enough. My clothes weren’t there. A few women’s things, though. A brush, and some cash. I was confused. I didn’t think it was mine, but why leave it? She took my poke where all my money was. I saw a pad of paper and a small, rectangular box as well. And some delicates. My dad was a doctor, and he’d had one of these boxes that he took with him on house calls. It was even the same maroon color. A fountain pen.

I reached up and pulled the dress off the hook. Well, nail. The girl was about my size. Is there some reason she wanted my clothes. If so, she got some that would fit her.

I pulled the dress over myself and and looked in the bag again. There were some stockings, and I pulled them on, then began the tedious process of buttoning the boots.

I wasn’t disturbed about putting on the dress. I was more concerned about the ribbing I’d get at the camp.

There was a small mirror hanging from the nail where the dress had been. I looked at my face in it. My hair was pretty long, and I’d never been able to grow a beard. I had a boyish face, but now I thought it would work with the dress. I sighed and walked over to the bed where I pulled the brush out of the bag. I walked back to the mirror and started pulling the brush through my hair.

Before long, I thought I’d pass pretty well, but was still a bit nervous about seeing the rest of the guys. I thought of just disappearing, but I couldn’t leave them without a camp cook.

There was a pounding at the door and another yell.

“Okay!” I hollered and grabbed the bag. I figured I’d take the cash with me, but I’d need a way to carry it.

I opened the door and the barkeep grinned. “You’re way past your time. I can think of a few ways you can pay.” He eyed me up and down, leering all the while.

“Not with you,” I told him.

“I didn’t ask,” the barkeep said, grabbing my wrist.

“The lady said no,” came a familiar voice. I wasn’t as tall as the barkeep, but I knew the voice. It was Austin, the trail boss.

“Mine your own…” the barkeep started to say. He never finished it though. His head snapped around, his jaw swinging open limply, and blood spurting out of his mouth. I jumped back, but I saw that some blood had gotten onto my dress. My dress? Since when?

Austin reached out and grabbed my arm to keep me from falling. He shook his hand a few times. Obviously he’d hit the guy’s jaw, breaking it. His hand must’ve hurt.

“Sorry about that, Ma’am,” he said, then did a double take. He dropped the barkeeps now limp form on the ground and said, “I’ve been looking for you, Cookie. Come on. The guys are getting antsy. They’re hungry.”

He led me down the stairs and into the street. A couple of our men were crossing the street, and when they saw us, they hurried up to us. “I see ya found her,” Stan said to Austin. “Bout time you wear a dress, Cookie. Are you leaving us though?”

I was flummoxed for a moment, but managed to answer, “Of course not. Why do you ask?”

“Well,” Stan said. “Seems a funny time to wear a dress when we’re going back to camp.”

“Lay off, Stan,” Austin said. “That barkeep was trying to get her to ‘pay for her room’ again.”

“Why that lowdown…”

“Easy, Stan. I already took care of him.”

Stan’s hand had strayed to his gun-belt. “Is he still breathing?”

“I think so,” Austin replied.

“Yes,” I said without thinking. I’d helped my dad on his rounds when I got older, and I had automatically noticed the barkeeps respiration when Austin laid him out.

“Want me to finish him?” Stan asked.

Brad, the other man, looked at me expectantly. So did Austin. What the…?

“N’no,” I said confused.

Austin must have taken my stutter as something else.

“Are you sure, Cookie?” he asked me.

I just nodded.

“Well,” Stan said as we headed for our horses. “He’d better leave you alone when we come back through.” He didn’t say the obvious. The barkeep’s days would be limited if he messsed with me again.

I was confused, but it felt good to hear the guys be so protective about me.

We got to the horses, and I was a bit unsure how I was going to ride mine in a dress. Austin must have thought the same thing. “Hang on,” he said. He crossed the street and went into a store that seemed to have about everything imaginable, even some clothes.

I started to protest, but Stan shook his head. “A girl needs her modesty, Cookie. You can’t ride in that getup, pretty as you are.”

I’m not sure how much Austin paid, but the clothes he got were much like what I’d had before. I still wasn’t doing too well in my balance, but Austin guided me to the side of the saloon building. I thought about walking across the uneven road, and agreed with his logic.

He handed me the bundle of clothes and turned around. “Go ahead and change,” he told me as the other guys also turned, putting their bodies between me and any prying eyes from the street.

Just as well. I really didn’t want to re-enter that seedy saloon.

Once I was clad in breeches and a shirt like I’d had before, Stan tied my horse’s lead to his saddle and Austin reached down after mounting his horse. Obviously, I wasn’t going to be left to sway on a horse without someone to steady me.

We made record time the three miles back to camp. The guys didn’t want to hang around town very long, and Austin had pushed his steed into a gallop, followed by the other men.

Arriving at the camp, Austin told the boys, “Saddle up. We’re getting out of here.”

“But, Boss,” Lefty whined, “I need some grub!”

“That seedy barkeep took a liking to Cookie, and wouldn’t take no for an answer.” Austin said by way of explanation.

“What!?” Lefty exploded. “Our little Cookie? Why that no-good… His girls weren’t worth that!”

“The weren’t worth much of anything,” Pete said, his face going red.

Do all these guys think I’m a girl? I wondered.

Austin dismounted, then reached up to help me down. I started to slip, and he caught me, and the way his hands ended up made me think, Well, Austin doesn’t.

I made sure my kitchen was packed carefully, then was assisted into the chuck-wagon by Austin. He tied his horse to the back of the wagon after hitching mine up next to his sister, so he could pull.

Then, Austin doled out some jerky that he must have gotten at the store when he picked up my clothes, and the men made sure their canteens were full. Then we got on our way, him driving my chuck-wagon.

“Do the men all think I’m a girl?” I asked.

“Why wouldn’t they?” he said in answer.

“I’m not, as you certainly know.”

“I know that, but are you sure you’re not a girl?”

“I’m a bit dizzy, but I don’t think that would make sense if I wasn’t.”

“I took you on as our cook two years ago, Cookie. Also, you’re pretty good as a camp doc. But when I hired you, your mom made me swear to take care of you. Said you were a bit on the girly side.”

My face went hot, so I’m sure I turned red.

“She wasn’t trying to be mean, Cookie. Quite the opposite.”

“But why do the men think…?”

“I tried to tell ‘em. They thought I was trying to tell them so they’d leave you alone. Stan promised he’d make sure everyone kept their mitts off, and that was that.”

“So my wearing that dress just confirmed it to them,” I said, realizing what had happened.

“Pretty much.” He glanced at me. “How’s your head?”

“Sore,” I said.

“Need a shoulder to lean it on?”

I laughed. “What would Stan say?”

“He thinks we’re married.”

“What!?” I cried.

Stan wasn’t too far from us, and he glanced our way. I could see his head cock in concern, but he didn’t seem upset with Austin.

“Well, I’ve always rented that room at your folks' place. None of the guys ever seem to realize we don’t share one, and I never figured it was necessary to enlighten them.”

I stared at him for a few moments, then the aching in my head got the better of me and I leaned it on his shoulder. He’s good husband material, I thought. Now where did that thought come from?

We finally stopped for the evening, and I felt good enough to do some cooking. Austin and Brad did the actual work, however. I guess everyone thought my headache came from the barkeeps attentions, because nobody asked why or how.

Not until the evening, anyway. Normally, Austin would sleep on the ground with the other men, but that night, he climbed into the wagon, asking if I minded him sleeping inside.

I almost argued, but I figured it would be better for the illusion of a relationship between me and Austin if he slept with me.

We dropped the cattle off a week later, and then made our way back to Santa Fe where we’d started the drive. Most of the men stopped there, but Austin and I went a few miles farther south, and that’s where it happened.

It’s been twenty years since then, and I still shake everytime I think about it.

We’d dropped off the wagon with the men, so I was sleeping on the ground beside Austin. I woke up in the morning to a strange feeling. Apparently, a rattlesnake had found my warmth during the night.

“Austin?” I very quietly murmured, hoping not to frighten the cold blooded reptile. “There’s a snake on me.”

He jumped up and grabbed my blankets, flinging them away.

But the snake wasn’t in the blankets. It must have been as terrified about the quick movements as I had been by it’s slow ones. It struck out at Austin and got his leg.

I was terrified, but I grabbed it right behind it’s head before it could strike again and I beat it’s head on a rock. It was quickly dispatched, but I could see Austin’s face going gray.

“Come on,” I said as I got him onto my horse, this time, him in front of me.

We had only a few miles to my dad’s surgery, and we made it very quickly. Dad must have heard my galloping horse and he came out in a hurry. Austin started to slip off the horse, and Dad caught him.

Austin lost his leg that day, but he gained a constant companion. Me.

I realized I really was a girl, and we simply left the rumor in place. My folks knew the truth, of course, but they realized that there was a real relationship between the two of us.

Austin didn’t drive cattle for two years, and I got used to wearing dresses.

Stan and a few of the others came down to see us several times, and even came for Christmas.

We had a pretty cold Christmas that year, and the men stayed on with us for a few more days.

It was New Years Day that Stan took me aside and said, “You’ve got to get that man of yours back in the saddle.”

I couldn’t argue. Austin had been bored. He was able to ride, but he loved the cattle drives to Denver.

I talked to him later that day, and he said he really would like to be able to lead drives again.

Shoot, as long as he was in the saddle, he was fine.

He’d supported me without my knowing for a couple of years, then protected me from the barkeep and that snake, both the literal one and the figurative. I determined that I would stay... continue to be his ‘wife’ for as long as he needed me to be.

That year, Austin took over from Stan as the boss. We never told Stan what happened. Austin teasingly said he didn’t want people to know that I’d saved him in the way I did, and answered, “Okay, Stumpy.” Somehow the name stuck.

Last year, we lost Stan on the drive. He’d died from heatstroke. Austin almost didn’t lead the drive this year, but I knew he had to. “Stan would want it,” I told him.

I’ve never regretted that resolution to push my man. He always seems more alive on the drives, and this year was no exception. It was hard to not see Stan on his horse, never too far from us, but we felt he was still there, if only in spirit.

Austin is going to keep leading the drives until he can’t anymore, and I’m scared of what will happen at the point. It may seem strange, but I resolve that it will happen on a drive. I don’t want to think of him losing that.

picture by Colin Lloyd on Unsplash As is always the case, I'd like to thank Malady for his help when I come up with a mad idea such as this.
He's always there to bounce ideas off of, and proofread the monstrosity before I post it.

This is posted as an outline because... because... because I thought it would be fun to post it like that.

So I was very bored today, and I was watching Prime Video, with its amazing collection of B Disaster films. Then I got to thinking about the Take Your Daughter to Work Day Challenge.

How hard would it be to use the ready-made outline of B Disaster Movies for this idea? It's a very simple outline, I know. Still, it's there, and obviously not copywritten, because EVERY B Disaster Movie uses the same outline! A ready-made outline! Yay!

---

1. The Disaster

   1. In space, we can see a star approaching the Earth. It is a Red Giant. In the background, we hear the theme of Jaws playing.

   2. From the other direction, a comet appears, just as the theme of Jaws enters its second stanza.

   3. The Pentagon:

      1. General Bloomin' Idiot surveys his domain. It has been so lovely and peaceful since Heroic Scientist was ousted from his position of prominence with the government. General Idiot is happy President Nice Man finally listened to him and got rid of Scientist.

2. 1. "Hero!" calls Beautiful Doctor, Heroic Scientist's wife. "You're taking Rebellious Teenage Daughter to work today, right?"

      1. "Are you sure I should do that? She hates me."

      2. "No, she doesn't, Hero. She loves you. You just have to show her you love her."

      3. “She’s embarrassed by me.”

      4. “Well, Dear, you're a B disaster movie Heroic Scientist."

      5. "Right," Hero replies. "Nobody ever listens to me. And Rebel is embarrassed by that."

         1. (Heroic Scientist and Beautiful Doctor refer to Rebellious Teenage Daughter as Rebel. It's much easier to say.)

      6. “Hero,” Beauty argues, “Everyone will listen to you by the end of the week, you know that!”

      7. "Of course, they will. Soon, I'll get a call from President Nice Man, begging me to return to work for the government to fix whatever has gone wrong this week.”

      8. Beauty looks concerned. "Do you know what's happening this week?"

      9. Hero shakes his head. "Nothing yet. Only that the world is gonna prunify if I'm not on it by the end of the day."

      10. He looks around. "Where's Rebel anyway?"

      11. Beauty shrugs. "You know how it always starts. She's in her room, listening to music from her iPhone blasting through her AirPods at a volume that will scramble her brain if she doesn't stop it by the end of the week."

      12. Hero sighs heavily. "Of course," he says resignedly. "I should go get her for work."

   2. In Rebel's room, we see Rebellious Teenage Daughter just as her mother predicted, except with the addition of her chewing bubble gum. She is industriously chewing away and already has a rebellious look ready for Hero's knock.

   3. True to form, there's a knock on the door. Somehow, Rebel hears it and turns the already audible AirPods up even further.

   4. The knocking goes on for about 5.25 minutes, but then the door opens, and Hero sticks his head in the room. "Are you coming?"

   5. “Do I have to?” the girl asks.

   6. “You said you would,” Hero replies.

   7. “I was humoring you," she says, rolling her eyes and rudely chewing the gum with her mouth open, showing her disdain for her parent.

   8. "Come on," Hero says. "You'll enjoy it. Maybe it'll make you want to follow in my footsteps," he urges.

   9. “I doubt it,” she argues.

   10. “It does every week,” he points out.

   11. She rolls her eyes again and gets to her feet. "Let's get this over with."

3. The disasters get closer to their appointed time…

   1. In space, the star and comet are moving steadily along, Jaws playing louder, with a stronger beat than before.

   2. General Idiot is in his own private domain, an evil grin on his face.

4. Hero and Rebel are in his Suburban, traveling somewhere in the wilderness.

   1. We're not really sure where they are.

      1. They are arguing.

         1. "You've never liked me!" accuses Rebel. "Ever since I told you I wasn't Rebellious Teenage Son, but instead, Rebellious Teenage Daughter, you've hated me!"

         2. "Here we go again," Hero mutters under his breath. "Same ole, same ole."

         3. "That figures," Rebel snorts. "Make light of it."

         4. "You're still my kid," Hero says sharply. "You're important to me!"

         5. “But do you love me?”

         6. Suddenly, the ground starts shaking, and Hero slows the Suburban.

         7. Rebel nods disgustedly. "Did that hit home? You gonna make me walk?"

         8. "No," Hero says. "Listen!" The ground shakes again, and he says, "Feel that?"

            1. (it makes little sense that he said to listen for the ground shaking, but this is a B movie, so what do you expect?)

         9. “Feel what?” Rebel asks.

         10. "Just a second." He stops the Suburban and gets out. Rebel rolls her eyes again and gets out as well.

         11. She walks over to her dad, who tells her, "It's a tremor. About 3.2 on the Richter scale," he says, holding up his finger as if trying to tell which direction it's coming from.

         12. Suddenly, the world shakes harder, and a crevasse opens up, swallowing the Suburban. It opens up more and starts chasing them... They join hands and run, him urging her to run faster.

5. The Pentagon.

   1. Colonel Bright Man calls out, "General Idiot, Sir! We're getting reports of earthquakes from all over the world."

      1. "Here it comes," Idiot says to himself. "Call in Heroic Scientist!"

      2. "I can't do that, Sir. It's not time yet."

      3. "I suppose you're right. Get me everything I'll need to take to the president."

      4. Colonel Man glares at the General. "Aren't we getting ahead of things? We need to determine this warrants taking to Nice."

      5. Idiot returns the glare. "Really? You think it won't? It ALWAYS needs to go to him."

      6. "General Idiot, Sir, don't you think Nice has enough to worry about?"

      7. Idiot glares. "Yeah, but he got himself elected president. And don't piss me off, Man. Your brother may be the president, but that doesn't give you clearance to treat me like an idiot."

   2. General Idiot is quickly proved right, and the president needs to be briefed.

      1. "Mister President, Sir, We have Earthquakes all over the planet. We have a star approaching us on one side and a comet on the other. "

      2. President Nice Man looks questioningly at Idiot. "So what do you recommend we do?

      3. "We need to call Heroic Scientist ASAP."

      4. "What? You don't have any recommendations?" President Man looks at Idiot disgustedly. "You're a General, Idiot. Act like one!"

      5. "What do you suggest I say? You know we're going to call him eventually. Let's skip all the interim stuff and call him now."

      6. President Man glances at one of his advisors, Intelligent Burro, who quips, "Finally, a good idea from Idiot."

6. Beautiful Doctor is worried about Heroic Scientist and Rebellious Teenage Daughter.

   1. She has been trying to call both of their mobiles but can't make a connection.

   2. She has just finished the 38th try when her phone rings. "Hero?!" she says expectantly when she answers.

      1. It's not Hero. It's her boss at the local hospital, Earnest Doctor.

         1. He is also her brother.

         2. Tells her they have people swarming into the hospital.

            1. They need her at the hospital.

            2. Lots of injuries from the earthquakes.

   3. Beauty heads to the hospital.

7. Hero and Rebel are on foot.

   1. Been walking for several miles.

      1. Very tired.

      2. Thirsty.

   2. Come to a run-down shack.

   3. "Let's go in and see if we can rest. Maybe get some water," Rebel suggests.

   4. "We should knock."

   5. "You think someone's home?"

   6. "Just because it looks abandoned doesn't mean it is," he tells her.

   7. "Dad," she says with the familiar eye roll. "We have a worldwide emergency every week. If it looks abandoned, it probably is."

   8. They enter the house and find that the water works, and there's canned soup in the pantry.

      1. No power.

      2. Hero finds a can opener and some spoons, and they eat some soup cold.

   9. The door bursts open as they finish their soup, and a grizzled man enters with a shotgun pointed at them.

      1. "What're you doin' eatin' ma food and drinkin' ma water?" he demands.

      2. Hero puts his hands in the air, as does Rebel.

         1. "I'm Heroic Scientist, and this is my daughter, Rebel Daughter."

         2. "Scientist, huh? You're that guv'ment guy."

         3. "Only a few days a week," Hero says.

      3. "Whatcha doin' in my shack?"

      4. "We got caught in an earthquake," Rebel says. "We lost our car."

         1. She's happy her dad called her his daughter, so she is now on his side.

      5. "I'm Grizzled Trapper," says the man lowering his shotgun. "You gonna Save the world?"

         1. "If I can," says Hero.

      6. "I've got a Chevy Citation behind the house." He tosses a keyring to Hero.

         1. "A Citation?" asks Hero, aghast. "We don't have much time to get to cell service!"

         2. "It's what I got," says Trapper. "If I'da know'd you'd be needin' my car this week, I'da got a Tesla."

      7. "C'mon, Dad," urges Rebel. "We gotta hurry!"

      8. Hero pauses before he leaves and looks back. Trapper waits for the inspirational and heroic words he knows are coming.

         1. "A Citation? Really?" Hero just shakes his head.

         2. As they leave, Trapper Mutters. "At least you can't get hurt driving to town. Need more speed for that."

8. As Hero and Rebel drive toward town, they are struck by another earthquake.

   1. Hero estimates that in 2.157 hours, the world will prunify.

      1. Rebel wonders if he can be more specific, as the Pentagon will need a clearer picture of what's going to happen.

      2. Hero can only be more certain once he can figure out exactly where and when the star and comet will hit Earth.

   2. As they enter the town, power lines start to fall, and Hero has to push the Citation to its limits, slaloming back and forth on the street.

      1. As they make progress through town, a police officer stops them.

         1. "Do you know why I stopped you?" the officer asks.

            1. His shirt has a name badge that says "Moron" over the left pocket.

         2. "Driving right now because of the conditions?"

         3. "No," says Officer Moron. "You were speeding."

         4. "That's impossible," says Hero.

         5. "Why?"

         6. "Look at the car, Moron," explains Hero.

         7. "Wait a minute," exclaims Moron. "Why aren't you in a better car?"

         8. "This is all Grizzled Trapper had."

         9. Officer Moron Sighs. "Why didn't he have a better vehicle for you?" He shakes his head and waves them on.

         10. "Well, that was fortuitous," says Hero as they head toward the city's center.

      2. As soon as they continue into town, the power poles start to wave back and forth again, and Hero has to continue his slaloming back and forth with the Citation.

         1. Hero’s phone rings.

         2. He answers it, and it's General Idiot.

         3. General Idiot tells Hero that he needs a solution to the impending prunification.

         4. Hero says he doesn’t yet know what can be done, but he surely will before long. He always does

         5. Idoit pauses, and Hero can almost hear his head shaking.

         6. Hero says he needs to concentrate on the road and power lines, so he tells Idiot that he needs to get off the phone and please tell the President that he'll need to talk to him on the next phone call.

         7. Hero hangs up the phone and continues with slaloming.

      3. They arrive at Hero’s home just as a crevasse opens underneath it, and it disappears into the bowels of the Earth.

         1. “Glad we got stopped by Officer Moron,” he commented to his daughter.

            1. “Yeah.,” she agrees. “If we’d been here earlier, we would have gone with the house.”

         2. Hero still needs to contact the President, so he starts the car again and heads toward the town hall.

            1. They arrive at the town hall and meet up with Officer Moron again.

               1. Insists that they aren’t allowed to be out and about.

                  • They must go to the high school and wait in the gymnasium like all the other sheep… Uh, people.

               2. Hero explains that he has some information to give President Man, but Officer Moron isn't listening.

               3. Hero and Rebel head over to the high school like good little sheep … uh… citizens,

            2. Hero calls his brother, Astro Scientist, who happens to be at an observatory on a mountaintop outside of town.

               1. Astro tells him that the star is the worst problem.

                  • The comet is liable to be destroyed in the star's gravitational field.

                  • Hero wonders how sure Astro is about that.

                    • “About 25% certain,” Astro replies.

                  • Hero determines that the star must be moved away from Earth.

                    • He figures if they could make the star collide with the moon, it might just save Earth.

               2. Just as Astro and Hero finish their conversation, another earthquake destroys the observatory.

                  • Hero spends valuable time mourning for his brother.

                    • Rebel reminds him that they have to talk to President Man.

            3. Hero and Rebel sneak out of the gym when no one is watching.

               1. They go to the town hall, where they can call Idiot, who connects them to the President.

               2. At the time of the call, Hero doesn't know what to say, but an idea comes to him as he's talking.

                  • Tells the President that their only hope is to push the moon into the star. That will blow them both up and save the Earth.

                    • President Man asks about the absence of the moon and if that will affect the Earth in any way.

                      • "That's something we can worry about for next week's disaster," Hero tells him.

                      • “Fair enough,” respond’s the President.

                    • "How can we move the Moon?" asks Idiot, who is also on the call.

                    • “We need an explosion big enough.”

                    • “How can we do that?” asks Man.

                    • “We can remotely detonate the nuclear garbage dump on the surface.”

                    • Idiot thinks about this. “How do we steer it?”

                    • Hero shakes his head, even though they can’t see him. “We won’t need to. It’s facing the right way.”

                    • “Good enough, Hero. Now get to the base to push that detonation button.”

                    • “It’s right beside me,” Idiot says.

                    • “Why can’t you push it then?” asks Hero.

                    • “I can’t!” General Idiot says. “It has to be you!”

                    • Hero sighs. “Okay. I’m on my way.”

            4. Hero and Rebel start for the base, which is thirty-five miles away.

               1. Rebel wants to go to the hospital to help her mom, but Hero explains that he has to have her with him for the trip.

                  • “Why?”

                  • “That’s just the way it is.”

                  • “Sort of like you being the one to press the button?”

                  • He nods. “Exactly. I’ve also got to just make it on time, too. The clock has to read 1 second before it’s too late when I push the button.”

                  • She sighs. “What am I supposed to do?”

                  • He glances at her. "Your job is to be on the lookout for dangerous people who just want to stop us and use the Citation for something."

                  • “Why would they want this car?” she asks.

                  • “I don’t know, but they will.”

                  • She glowers out the window, looking for people who are stupid enough to want to take their car.

                  • Surprisingly, or perhaps unsurprisingly, nobody stops them, although a few people have set up roadblocks on the way.

                    • Two roadblocks have several 4x4s that are obviously stolen from the people guarded by paramilitarily dressed people with totally over-the-top weapons.

                    • Hero and Rebel come to a stop by each block, but they are always waved through when the vehicles blocking the road are moved.

                    • "We need one of these cars every time a disaster happens," comments Hero.'

                      • "If we can avoid the embarrassment of owning one," Rebel says.

            5. Rebel and Hero arrive at the base and are waved through by an MP doubled over in laughter at their car.

            6. When they park, a sinkhole opens up on the car's passenger side.

               1. Hero has to use several seconds to save Rebel, and he succeeds just as the car slips into the bottomless pit below it.

                  • Rebel is left hanging over the hole, holding onto his hand.

                    • Somehow, Hero can pull her out of the pit.

               2. They run toward the building, dodging this way and that to avoid crevasses, sinkholes, and downed powerlines.

               3. Inside the building, they run just ahead of the ceiling as it crashes to the floor behind them, all the way to the situation room where General Idiot is standing, looking longingly at the button that he’s unable to push.

               4. Hero glances above the control panel where the button is built in, and there’s a digital clock counting down.

                  • 5…4…3…2…1…

                    • True to form, Hero pushes the button at 1.

9. Outside, there’s a flash of light, even though the moon is on the other side of the planet at that moment.

   1. The sky gets brighter, and the rain stops.

      1. “I didn’t know it was raining,” Rebel says.

      2. “When did it get dark?” Hero asks.

   2. Beautiful Doctor steps up and gives Hero a hug and kiss.

      1. President Man Shakes his hand.

      2. Grizzled Trapper is suddenly there and salutes Hero.

      3. Officer Moron cheers.

   3. General Idiot looks around.

      1. “How’d all these people get onto the base?”

---

Don't forget to comment and leave cheers (or groans)!

Photo by Matthew Cheng on Unsplash

---

As is always the case, I'd like to thank Malady for his help editing both the text, and the crazy ideas I come up with.

---

Eydie

October 27^th, 2015

It had been a hard night. Eddie had stayed up most of the night, unable to sleep. He’d tossed and turned, and when he finally did fall asleep, he had dreams where he ended up fighting with everyone.

He hurried downstairs, poured a bowl of sugar-encrusted flaked corn, filled it 3/4 full of milk, grabbed a spoon, slopped half of the milk on the floor, brushed a towel off the counter, took a bite of the cereal, pushed the towel over the spilled milk with his foot, took another bite of the cereal, kicked the towel in front of the washing machine sitting in the corner, dropped the still full bowl into the sink, and hurried out the door.

“Eddie!” his mom called as the door slammed shut. She hurried to the door and opened it, knowing the teenager wouldn't respond, but she tried anyway. True to form, he continued running toward the highway.

She watched as a car pulled onto the shoulder. Eddie yanked open the door, jumped in, and the car took off with squealing tires and a thunderous roar from its dual exhaust pipes.

Miranda Staples, Eddie’s lifelong friend, listened as the big Nova disappeared in the distance. It was quite a car, and the owner, Al, had decked it out with everything he could find for customization. She wanted to tell Eddie to avoid Al, but it seemed like Eddie didn't listen to anyone anymore.

Inside the car, Eddie grunted a “hey” to Al, who returned it with a simple nod of his head. Little more was said by the two until Al tried to beat a train to a crossing. He didn’t.

-=#=-

It was a horrible day, made worse by the fact that the rain was shifting back and forth between freezing rain and something half-heartedly trying to be snow. To make matters worse, it was also being blown by a gusting breeze. The canopy above the few people who had come to the graveside service did little to shield anyone from whatever the precipitation was at any given moment.

One of the pallbearers slipped on the slick ground and brought three others to their knees as they transported the casket from the hearse to the grave. As the groundskeeper lowered the casket into the ground, the hand crank jammed from some ice caked onto it by the occasional bouts of freezing rain.

Finally, however, the casket was lowered, and the minister picked up a handful of earth, and tossed it into the open grave.

Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.

What sat on the polished wood inside the grave was more mud than dirt, and seeing the sight simply made Rachel Grace Millerson, Eddie’s mother, even more despondent. It seemed as if the earth didn’t want Eddie to return to it.

Mud thou art, and unto mud shalt thou return…

The minister hurried through the service, and soon it was only Rachel, Miranda, and Eddie’s father, Clive Millerson, at the graveside.

Very few people had been at the service, but what shocked Rachel the most was that Albert Findley’s family hadn’t been there. Rachel and Clive had gone to Al’s funeral two days before, but while there, they had received murderous stares from his family, as if they, or Eddie, had been responsible for the crash.

Staring at the lonely casket in the ground, Rachel thought about what she had been told about the crash. The souped-up Nova had been speeding. It probably had no chance to stop, even if Al had wanted to. It crashed through the stop arm, and the tires left the ground slightly as it topped the rise where the rails were. Witnesses said the car had sped up when the arms started to drop. Presumably, Al knew he wouldn’t be able to stop in time, so he figured his only choice was to try to beat it.

When the train hit the car, it caught the back right fender. It didn’t do much damage to the train engine, but the car cartwheeled nearly a hundred and fifty feet before it came to rest against a stack of logs at a lumber mill alongside the railroad tracks.

As she thought of the accident, Rachel squeezed her eyes tight, trying to blot out the sight of the ruined car. When she and Clive saw pictures of the wreck, it hardly looked like the same car. But there was no mistaking the body of their son, his long, dark hair matted with blood… She worked even harder to block out the remembrance of him in the morgue. Mercifully, Eddie had died almost immediately. Al, on the other hand, had made it to the operating room. He hadn’t been wearing a seat belt, and without an airbag in the older car, he had slammed into the steering wheel, but not before his forehead removed the rear-view mirror from the windshield.

What had actually killed Al was the ribs from his left side puncturing his lung after they’d been shattered. It was probably just as well, as the burns he had endured from the fire that enveloped the wreckage would have been excruciating.

Eddie had bore the brunt of Al’s body slamming into him in the first impact from the train. It pushed Eddie into his door at an odd angle, breaking his neck. Somehow the door opened, and during the cart-wheeling of the car, his body was thrown out. Rachel remembered hearing the last events of her son’s life from the police, as she watched the water dripping into the grave, turning all of Eddie’s final resting place into gooey mud.

-=#=-

May 5^th, 2017

Miranda Staples was helping Eddie’s mother, Rachel, as she boxed up the things that had belonged to her son. Miranda and Eddie had been close friends since they were toddlers, and she had always hoped Eddie would see how much she cared. In fact, Miranda had been interested in getting to know her friend much more intimately than just close friends.

Rachel hadn’t entered the bedroom for quite some time, and when they opened the door she just stood in the entranceway and looked around. There were the typical things that a boy Eddie’s age would have decorating the walls, but there were also a few things which seemed wrong. Considering the attitude that Eddie had been displaying once he became friends with Al, the colors displayed in the room didn’t fit.

Eddie had always preferred a different style for his furniture, also. His personality as a child was more ebullient.

Miranda stood just behind Rachel, and looked at the room. She had probably known Eddie better than anyone else, and she saw again the differences in his decor just as Rachel did.

A moment later, Rachel stepped into the room. Miranda saw her shoulders slump as she sat down on the bed, tears starting anew. It was quite some time before the two were able to start working. Rachel started on various decorations, while Miranda began work on Eddie’s dresser drawers.

Partway through the process, Rachel found something shocking, “What in the world!”

Miranda turned and saw that the woman was working on the closet, removing clothes from hangers and folding them neatly, before boxing them for donating to Goodwill. Rachel had been removing shirts and pants from the rod, and found that behind them was another rod. She’d forgotten that the closet had lots of space, and had just begun pulling clothes from the rod when she opened the door.

Now, she remembered that the closet in question, actually had room to step into, and shelves on either side. What had surprised her, however, was what was hanging on the second rod. With a trembling hand, she reached in and pulled out a black dress. What would be called a ‘little black dress’ in popular culture.

Miranda sighed internally. She’d hoped she would be able to reach the closet before Rachel did, if only to spare the mother the explanation she would now have to give. In fact, Miranda had already removed the panties, bras, and other female accessories from the drawers, and was now starting to cover them in the box with male undergarments.

In a daze, Rachel stepped over to Miranda to show her the LBD. She turned her gaze to the young woman, but her eyes glanced into the box first. It took a moment for her to register what her eyes had seen, but when she did, Miranda knew there was no skirting around the issue. She was going to have to explain.

“You knew about this, didn’t you?” Rachel said. It wasn’t said in anger. It was simply a question.

Wordlessly, Miranda nodded.

Rachel took a deep breath, sighed, and sat down on the bed, still holding the dress. “Eddie said this had stopped years ago. He was a transvestite?”

Miranda pulled out the chair at Eddie’s desk and turned it to face her friend’s mother. “No, Mrs. Millerson. He wasn’t.”

“Then...”

“Eddie felt he should have been born a girl.”

Rachel’s tears started again. “Why didn’t he tell us?”

Miranda’s tears started. “She was afraid.”

“She?” Rachel looked at the young woman quizzically. “Did Eddie identify as a woman?”

“Yes,” Miranda said, almost in a whisper.

“He, or rather she told you... She wasn’t afraid of telling you... Why her parents?”

Miranda had known the question would come, and she was rather fearful of telling her best friend’s mother how long she’d known. “Even as children, you knew we played as two little girls. Eydie and I...”

“Her name was Eydie?”

“It was much easier for her to respond to, rather than a completely different name. Eydie Grace.”

“Grace?” Rachel exclaimed, then she sighed. “Why don’t you tell me about my daughter that I never knew?”

-=#=-

Years before: Clive Millerson’s family had owned the house Eddie grew up in for years. It was one of three owned by the family, and by far the least likely a person would expect to be on the cover of Better Homes and Gardens. The other two were occupied by Clive's sisters, and one had indeed had her living room pictured on the cover of said magazine.

The house next door had been occupied by a couple in their late 60s while Clive was a child, and whenever his family visited the least of their homes, Clive remembered the pair working on their gardens, caring for the flowers, and keeping the home up.

Then, one summer, the gardens weren’t kept up anymore, and Clive remembered his parents telling him that the woman was sick, and her husband was determined to nurse her back to health, but it wasn’t to be. The next summer, the grounds outside the house were deteriorating, and Clive heard that the woman had died during the winter.

From then on, the house and yard lost all the beauty it had, and the owner became a recluse. Whenever he came out of the house, he looked worse and worse, and when Clive and his new wife, Rachel, moved into the home owned by Clive’s family, Rachel felt compassion for the old man.

She resolutely knocked on the door and introduced herself. Hal Clifford, as the man’s name was, remembered the little boy that Clive had been, but he hadn’t really paid attention to the boy as he became a teenager, then a young man.

Rachel tried to help the old man, but he seemed to only exist, not live. She persistently worked at it until she convinced Hal to come over to the family's house for dinner.

Hal seemed very reclusive at first, but he opened up a bit as the meal went on. He told how he and his wife had been unable to have children, but his sister had a son. He hadn't seen the boy for many years as he lived in Cathedral City, California.

He was an IT, and worked from home. The company he worked for had many different locations, and he was able to do his work through a VPN. Hal wasn't sure of the terminology, but he was able to describe things well.

After that meal, Hal enjoyed every Sunday at the Millersons, and they, in turn, had a midweek meal with him. It turned out that he had been a chef during his working days, and would make delicious meals, oftentimes experimenting, with wondrous results.

One day, after Rachel announced that she was pregnant with their first, and eventually found to be, only, child, they were at a Wednesday night meal with Hal, and he told them that he would be happy to cook Sunday meals for them for the foreseeable future. It was nice to make meals for others, as he didn't do much fancy cooking for himself.

Hal’s health had been declining, and a couple of months after Eddie was born, the octogenarian had a heart attack in the produce aisle of the local Albertsons. He was rushed to the ER, and made it another week, but he ultimately lost the battle.

Before his eyes closed their final time, he made sure his attorney registered a new will for him. The Millersons were present as well, and were willing to witness the new will, but they refused until he made a few alterations. He had been prepared to leave his house to them, but rather than accept that outright, Clive requested that it be left to his nephew but if, for some reason, he didn’t want the house, the Millersons would then accept it.

Hal laughed and said, “There seems to be no reason he wouldn’t accept the house, even if only to sell it.”

Clive smiled. “That’s true, Hal, but we will accept it if he doesn’t want it.”

“That sounds fine,” Hal said, and his will was made with the stipulation that if his nephew, George Staples, refused the house, the inheritances would reverse, leaving George the contents of his safe deposit box and Clive the house.

-=#=-

When the will was read, George Staples accepted the house and prepared to move his family north. Hal’s attorney turned the key to the safe deposit box over to Clive and Rachel, then it was over.

The next day, Clive went to the bank and opened the box. He looked at the contents and was surprised to find several stocks and bonds that Hal had built up during his lifetime. They totalled a substantial amount of money, impressive because of the six zeros following the initial number. In the safe deposit box were two letters. One labeled house, and one labeled, safe.

In the letter, it was explained that the house had a safe that held an identical set of stocks and bonds. Half of the amount in the safe was to be left in a trust for Miranda, George and Sophia’s daughter, and the other half to be used by George and Sophia. With the amount left to Clive and Rachel, half was to be left in trust for Eddie, and half to be used by them. The attorney told Clive and Rachel that the only difference between the letters was that the one given to George and Sophia had the combination to the safe.

Clive and Rachel discussed it, then asked to meet with the attorney. They told him that the inheritance wasn’t necessary, it was explained that Hal foresaw their response and he had left another letter in that case.

The attorney excused himself and Rachel read the letter out loud.

Dear Clive and Rachel,

Your friendship has meant so much to me. I want to thank you for that. You gave my life meaning, and made it fun again. I’ve missed Elsie so much. Clive, you saw the deterioration of my home, and the deterioration of me.

I know that the amount of your inheritance seems excessive to you, and I know that you hardly need it. But I want you to know how much you helped. I would have given you everything but for my nephew.

Give of your goodwill to other people now. So many people in this world need good people like you. Please don’t leave them without.

With love,

Hal

-=#=-

Miranda Staples was several months older than Eddie but they got along well. For the first five years of Eddie’s life they were constant companions, and in fact they remained so for many more years, but something happened when they were five. They were playing in Miranda’s room one day. Their play consisted of being the Mommy and Daddy to Miranda’s dolls. On the particular day, however, Eddie demanded that he get to be the Mommy and Miranda could be the Daddy.

Miranda had no objection, and so they traded clothes and roles for the day with Eddie becoming Eydie. Both of them were happy with the play, so they continued in the same way most of the time. Eddie preferred the play where he was the Mommy, but Miranda usually didn’t have a preference. Some days, however, she wanted to play the Mommy. Eddie didn’t like those days, but he allowed them because his best friend wanted it.

As they got older, Eddie almost always dressed in girl clothes. Rachel got him some play clothes, and he wore them almost exclusively during those years. But by the time he was in the third grade, he had been teased enough that he stopped. His parents took his stopping to mean that he had been going through a phase. A tenacious one, considering it had lasted a few years, but a phase nonetheless.

Eddie and Miranda remained best friends and he confided in her that he felt that he should have been a girl, but the teasing hurt too much to let the other kids know. Miranda wanted to tell their parents, but Eddie didn’t want to. They had decided it was just a phase, so he wanted to let them think that. They wanted it to be a phase and letting them believe it, was better. Miranda wasn’t convinced at all that they felt that way, but she decided to defer to Eddie.

As the years went by Miranda smuggled clothing to him, but Eddie wasn’t able to be Eydie except in the privacy of his room, or when their parents were gone for some reason.

Then, they started dating. At first, they were chaperoned by one or the other’s parents, but as they got older, that was no longer necessary, and they would go somewhere where Eydie could surface, and then they would continue their date, but as two girls.

Miranda didn’t care if she dated Eydie or Eddie, but Eydie only wanted only Miranda, not a male equivalent.

Then Al came into the picture.

-=#=-

Al wasn’t wealthy at all. In fact, he was quite poor, but he had saved all of his money to buy his Nova. When he bought it, it wasn’t much, but he rebuilt the engine and customized the car as much as he could afford.

He wasn’t interested in Eydie as a girlfriend. At least not in the traditional sense. He was also trans, but he went far enough to hide the fact under a rough exterior. Miranda hadn’t known at first, but she followed them when they left in the Nova one day, and saw that they both disappeared into Al’s empty house. They came out, both dressed as girls, and went somewhere. Miranda was too stunned to follow. That had been her place, and now Al was filling it.

The next day, Miranda confronted Eddie about it. They argued horribly, and in the end, Eddie stormed off.

He called Al and explained everything to him and Al told him that Miranda would tell his parents even though she had promised not to. Eddie believed him and broke his friendship with his lifelong friend.

After that, Al went out of his way to get Eydie to believe that everyone would betray her if they found out about her. He said that even though his parents hadn’t minded when Eydie was little, they would turn on her, just as Al’s parents had turned on him. They had told Al that if Allie continued to exist, they would throw him out on the street, never allowed to return home.

Allie continued, but buried beneath the hurt that Al felt. Allie made the assumption that everyone would respond the same way her parents had.

When she was out one day, in the next town to the west, she saw Eydie and Miranda. Perhaps she saw something in Eydie that reminded her of herself, or maybe it was the fact that Miranda and Eddie were inseparable at school, but Allie recognized that Eydie and Eddie were one andin the same.

That Monday, Al confronted Eddie in private and explained that he was, in fact, a transgirl himself. Eydie found it wonderful to meet someone like herself, and they became fast friends. The fact was, however, Allie had become jaded, and that rubbed off on Eydie. The belief that people were all the same slowly spread. As Eydie saw that people could be horrible to those like her, she retreated farther and farther away from everyone.

Finally, one night in late fall, when Eydie was seventeen, she spoke to Miranda again. They hadn’t talked for quite some time, and she entered into the conversation with a preconceived notion that Miranda would be deceptive and betray her.

-=#=-

Present day

Neither Miranda nor Rachel felt like continuing the packing of the room that day, and agreed to see how they felt in the morning, so Miranda went home. Later, that evening, Rachel entered her daughter’s room and looked around considering it from the point of view of a female. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t a girl’s room, at least not entirely. She picked up the dress where it had lain on the bed for the rest of the day, after Miranda explained things. Carefully, she hung it back up in the closet, but pulled the rest of the male clothes out and boxed them. As well, she boxed up the male shoes.

She went over to the dresser and put the female undergarments back, and looked in the other drawers. In each was a mix of male and female clothing, and she removed the male clothes from each, arranging her daughter’s things where they filled the drawers as if the male clothing had never been there.

In the desk, she found several things that filled her eyes with tears again. The large, bottom drawer had a jewelry case as well as a bag filled with makeup, brushes, a mirror, and a small book that said “Diary” on the front.

She set everything on the desk, as if it was a vanity. Looking around the room, she saw the posters on the wall, and in a fit of frustration, yanked them from the walls. Crumbling them up, she placed them in the boxes of male things. This is garbage, she thought. It’s not my daughter’s!

Looking around the room, she saw that it wasn’t perfect, but she had removed everything male that she could.

She called downstairs to Clive and he came up. She had told him what Miranda had said, and he had responded in the same way she had. Why didn’t she trust us?

“Can you take this stuff to the garbage, Clive?”

He looked around the room and choked out, “This… this is so much better.”

He stacked the boxes she had filled one on the other and carried them downstairs.

Rachel sat down on the bed and cried. She still didn’t understand and wept for a time. Finally, she stood and headed for the door, then she saw the diary. She picked it up and sat back down.

She opened the book and began to read. It started just before Eydie met Allie, and she read her daughter’s thoughts on what Allie had told her.

Eydie had been enamored with the other girl – a girl so much like her. She wanted the friendship so much that she tried to mold herself to what Allie wanted. The depression just deepened, and Rachel could see how toxic the friendship with Allie had been.

Then, she came to the day before the accident.

I saw Miranda tonight. It’s been so long. I expected her to be like Allie said, but she wasn’t. I was rude, and mean to her, but now that I think about it, I realize what I gave up.

I love Miranda!

I’m gonna tell Allie that I don’t agree with her. People aren’t that way. Miranda sure isn’t, and I don’t think Mom and Dad are either.

That was it. There wasn’t anything else.

Rachel looked at the time, and was shocked to see that it was 4AM.

-=#=-

The day after the final entry:

Eydie, disguised as Eddie, got into the Nova. The two grunted at each other, then she shook off the disguise and told Allie, “I talked to Miranda last night. I’m gonna get back together with her. Well – I’m gonna try, anyway.”

Allie didn’t say anything, but her foot pushed down on the gas pedal, hard. She had it to the floor as she slid around the last turn before the railroad tracks. There wasn’t time to stop, so she wondered if they could beat the train.

“Come on!” she shouted as they went airborne at the last second.

Photo by Daiga Ellaby on Unsplash

Author's note: This story has some very heavy Christian theology in it. If this will bother you, please don't read it. Skip to the next new story.

Rosemary

As usual, I wish to thank Malady for all his help with ideas and editing!

Frederick was 25 years old. He was married, and he and his wife, Wilhelmina, had a pair of twins named Bernard and Elizabeth. The reader should note that their last name was neither Flintstone nor Rubble, however. Frederick and Wilhelmina simply found it amusing that the shortened forms of their names were identical to those of a certain modern, stone age family. Thus, naming their kids after Fred and Wilma's best friends was a stroke of humor-related genius.

The reality was even funnier. Fred's last name was Kramden, the same as the Honeymooners who the Flintstones were modeled after.

Wilma’s father's name had been Jonas Grumby, and Fred knew of someone on television that had the name, but he couldn't remember who it was. Unfortunately, Wilma had lost her mother early in her life, and her father had passed away while she was a teenager, so without research, there was little way to figure it out.

Fred's family was also gone, so there was no one to whom they could show the kids. It was just the four of them in the world.
Wilma was carrying another set of twins as well. They had toyed with the idea of naming them Pebbles and Bam-Bam, but they thought those names might be going a bit too far. Ralph and Alice or Ed and Trixie might be good names, though.

They weren’t sure that this pair of twins would be a boy and a girl, but in Fred’s family, there were many twins, and all had been dizygotic except one – the other seven were male and female.

Fred was a male nurse at the local hospital. It wasn't a big hospital. In fact, the town that they lived in was quite backwater, but the head doctor was very knowledgeable.

With this background out of the way, we should explore some strangeness that occurred at a time five months before the next set of twins were born to the Kramdens.

Oh… perhaps I should explain… no. That will soon become apparent.

On with the story…

As I said, this was an unusual occurrence, and it happened in Fred's life. Well, that's not entirely true. It did, as far as it goes, but it affected many more than just him.

On the particular day, Fred was working in the hospital when he felt something. A pain that had been recurring for quite some time. But this time was different. It didn't fade. Doctor Clausson initially thought it might be appendicitis, but that was quickly ruled out, as was kidney stones.

Instead, they found something that was very concerning indeed.

His right vas deferens was being squeezed by a tumor that had developed in it.. Now the vas deferens essentially connects the testicle to the rest of the body, and this was being restricted. Not only was the blood flow being cut off to the testicle, but anything the gem created was also being cut off.

So Fred ended up lying on his back in the small hospital, a patient rather than a nurse.

Doctor Clausson stared at the results from the biopsy. The tumor was malignant and the cancer was spreading. It was starting to affect every bit of Fred's reproductive system. But why? Why did it seem to be affecting only that part of the best nurse in the hospital?

For his part, Fred had never felt that the term vampire fit phlebotomists, but they had taken so much blood his opinions were changing.

Thankfully, Doctor Clausson realized that Fred understood the conditions he was facing, so wasn't neglecting to inform the nurse of the facts.

The tests went on and on, until something struck the doctor as strange. He began to wonder if it could possibly be the cause.

"Hi, Doc," Fred said as the best doctor in the hospital walked into his room.

"Fred," the doctor said as a way of greeting. He seemed reticent in saying anything, but he also seemed determined.

What frightened Fred most of all was that he was always Nurse Fred, or in times of formality, Nurse Kramden, but never simply Fred. Fred's fright was punctuated by surprise at the doctor's question.

"Are you a twin?"

"Huh?" Fred asked. "No," he added after a moment.

"Do you know of any twins in your family?"

"Yeah," Fres said, totally confused. "But what does this have to do…" he trailed off as the doctor held up his hands.

"Bear with me for a minute, okay?"

"Does Wilma have any twins in her family?"

"Not that I know of." Now Fred was really confused.

Clausson nodded. "I suspect she does," he said as he pulled up a chair and aar down, "but that's not really relevant to your case."

Fred let out an audible sigh. Doctor Clausson could get off on tangents at times. Thankfully, surgery kept his mind from wandering, but when it came to research and collecting information, he could wander off topic easily. However, he had found valuable information through his wandering mind more than once.

Sure enough, "It was your own twins that put me onto this idea, and I'm almost certain I'm right. You see…"

Fred was certain the doctor was going to go off on a ramble that might eventually circle back around to his own predicament, or might not. So, he snapped the doctor out of his ramble. "Your point, Doc?"

"Right… well, the twins are very important, and I'm not surprised that your family has a predilection for them."

Fred decided to let the doctor tell the story his own way. Obviously, he wasn't going to be deflected from his tangent, and it may not be one. Best to just listen.

"I am curious, though. Are the twins in your family identical or fraternal?"

"Mostly fraternal."

"Are you sure?"

"Well, the fraternal ones are male and female, Doc."

"So?"

"Huh?"

The doctor got a cryptic smile on his face and told Fred, "Identical is based on the genome. Not looks. You know very well that a person can be born with the sexual characteristics of male while having XX chromosomes. Or, conversely, they can be born with the sexual characteristics of a female while having XY chromosomes."

"Where is this going, Doc?"

The doctor smiled and patted Fred's hand. "Identical twins are monozygotic. Fraternal twins are dizygotic. In monozygotic twins, the zygote will split into two, after fertilization."

"I know that, Doc," Fred said.

"But sometimes," the doctor persisted, "the two fuse into one again. Like a chimera, but instead of fraternal twins joining, they're identical."

"Are you saying…"

"You are apparently a chimera of two identical twins. One that developed male characteristics, and one that developed female."

Fred lay on the bed, thinking about what the doctor told him. He had been left alone for a while, while he thought about it, but Clausson said there could be a therapist (read shrink, Fred thought) anytime he needed it. He might accept the help later, but for the moment, he was willing to think about it himself.

What he had never told anyone was that he had always wanted to be female. Not enough to transition, but he always wanted to have the experience. Now, it looked like he might be able to.

Apparently, an imbalance of hormones was assisting the cancer in ravaging his male parts. So why was it taking things out on that part of him rather than the female? No idea, but it was. The damage was progressing, and frankly, did he want chemo to shut down the cancer in his… penis? That just sounded dangerous.

Slowly, he reached for his phone. He needed to talk to Wilma about this. There was more than just his feelings at play in the situation.

When Wilma arrived, Fred told her what Doctor Clausson said.

“What is the best thing for you to do, then?” she asked after she had hear the diagnosis.

“Honestly, I have a better chance of the cancer being gone if I have everything between my legs removed.”

“Are you going to?”

“That’s what I want to talk to you about,” he responded.

“I love you very much, Fred, but I can’t make this decision for you.”

He shook his head. “You’re not bisexual, Wilma. I know that.”

“No, I’m not,” she told him. “But I married you. For better; for worse.

When we married, we didn’t know what we do now. I can’t and won’t go back on what I decided then.”

He thought about what she was saying. “So… Would you have… made a different decision if we’d known?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know Fred, but what does it matter?”

“I don’t know, Honey, but I guess it does."

The decision made, Doctor Clausson prepared for surgery. The nearest town with a decent surgeon was Denver.

Clausson made some calls, and came up with a surgeon that was on vacation in Aspen. His hospital contacted him, and once the matter was explained, he agreed to fly to the mountainous city in which the Kramdens lived.

There would be no problems with fees being paid. Fred’s insurance had no problem covering the surgery. As soon as the surgeon arrived, he went over the scans taken of Fred’s body.

“I see,” he said to Clausson as they collaborated. This is definitely an interesting case.

“Yes. I suspect Fred is a monozygotic twin.”

“And one of the twins started to develop female?”

Doctor Clausson nodded. “He’s a chimera.”

“At this point, I would say she. But I take your meaning. This chimerism has resulted in a hermaphroditic situation.”

“Some would consider her intersexed.”

The surgeon nodded. “But, obviously the male genetalia functions.”

Again Clausson nodded, so he went on. “Is there any indication that the female organs work?”

“By my tests, she could probably become pregnant.”

“So the best course would be to remove the testes and penis, and form a vagina.” He scrutinized the penile shaft on the scans. “I don’t see evidence of a tumor here.”

“No, but I fear the cancerous material is spreading in that direction.”
“What evidence do you have?”

“We took samples. The tests were inconclusive.”

“Better to assume that it is spreading then. We can take some tissue from elsewhere.”

“Perhaps we’ll find it hasn’t spread to the full penis?”

“There is that possibility.”

Deciding on a course of action, the two prepared for the surgery in the next week.

“Hello. Mr. Kramden, is it?”

Fred glanced at the doorway. In it stood a man in a dark suit and tie.

“For now, I suppose,” Fred thought about that. Was he? “Well, actually, I’m not sure what I am.”

“I see. I’m the new chaplain’s assistant.”

“Where’s Grow?”

Grover Cleveland was the primary chaplain at the hospital.

“Well, I’ve had some experience with a case similar to yours. Grow thought I might be a bit more understanding than him.”

“I’m not a particularly religious person,” Fred told the man.

“Neither am I,” the chaplain laughed. He held out his hand. “I’m Rock Slate.”

Fred stared at him. “Is this some kind of a joke?”

“I swear, it’s not! My parents thought it would be funny to name me that. One of the reasons I became a minister. People can call me ‘Pastor Slate’ instead of Mr. Slate.” he paused for effect. “That last was a joke, but I realized the change in address was preferable very quickly.”

“Do you know my name?”

“Fred Kramden,” Slate replied.

“The Flintstones was a ripoff of the Honeymooners. In fact, Jackie Gleason considered suing Hanna Barbera because of it. Also, my wife's name is Wilma.” He paused. “Well, Wilhelmina, but you get the idea.”

Slate had a booming laugh. “I suppose I shouldn't laugh, but this situation is funny.”

Fred chuckled a bit, but then his look became serious. “So you say you aren’t religious. But you’re a chaplain.”

Slate turned, looking around the room. He saw a chair and, gesturing toward it, asked, “May I?”

Fred considered, then said, “Why not.”

Slate pulled it over to the side of the bed, then sat down. “I’ve been a Christian my whole life.”

“Again, you said you’re not religious.”

“I’m not. See, I don’t believe Christianity is a religion. It’s a lifestyle. It’s a relationship with Jesus Christ.”

“I’ve heard that before, but I’m not sure I follow it.”

“Generally, religion is thought of as a bunch of rules and regulations that one has to follow to get to heaven. Honestly, I don’t see that in the Bible.”

“If I remember right, there are ten commandments.”

“Yes, but those are in our judicial code. Even without Chrstianity, people are expected to follow those.”

“Don’t the commandments say to worship god?”

“Okay. They’re not all in the judicial code,” Slate laughed.

The corner of Fred’s mouth turned up in a semi-grin. He wasn’t against someone who was a Christian. He just didn’t know much about their beliefs, but this guy seemed likeable enough.

“So why am I supposed to worship god?”

“Why not?”

At this, Fred laughed. “I asked you first.”

“Fair enough,” Slate replied. “God created us.”

“So there’s no other god to worship,” Fred concluded.

“That’s not really correct,” Slate told him. “A god is anything you put over Him. Something that is all consuming to you.” He thought for a moment. “For some people, it may be a TV show. For others, it might be gaming. Others might have a hobby that takes up all of their time.”

“I suppose that makes sense. But then again, I’m not a Christian, so what does it matter?”

“What worship means is to proclaim the worth of something. Worth-ship is its actual meaning. So worshipping God simply means proclaiming his worth.”

“So what’s his worth?”

“As I said, He’s our creator. I’d say that’s worth a lot.”

“I suppose it is.”

“Are you an atheist?” Slate asked Fred.

“No. I suppose not, but I’ve never really gotten into religion. A relationship with god, I mean.”

Slate smiled. “Okay.”

“I know the story of Adam and Eve,” Fred told him. “I know about the flood. I know about Christmas. That’s about it.” He thought a bit. “Oh. I know about Jesus dying on the Cross, and the resurrection.”

“Okay. You want to know more?”

Fred looked at the clock on the wall. “Why not?”

Slate took notice of the look and grinned. “When’s your surgery?” he asked.

“Three days.”

“Plenty of time!”

“But then, I’m going to be hated by Christians.”

“Why?” Slate asked.

“Because I’m getting SRS.”

“Ah. Why's that matter?”

Fred was a bit confused. “I really don’t know.”

“I’ll see if I can shed some light on that.”

At that moment, a woman’s voice said, “Am I interrupting anything?”

Slate turned and saw a woman standing in the doorway to the room.

“This is my wife, Wilma,” Fred told him.

“Hello, Ms. Kramden,” Slate said, holding out his hand. “I'm Rock Slate. I’m a chaplain here.”

Wilma’s eyebrows shot up. “Rock Slate?”

The chaplain laughed. “Honest. I had no idea about your names.”

"Are you sure?" Wilma asked dubiously.

Slate started to leave, but Fred stopped him. "Why's it matter, Pastor?"

"I'm curious too," Wilma said.

"I don't want to intrude on your time together," Slate told them.

"You know," Wilma said, "I lived with a Christian family when I went into foster care. They made it clear that anyone that was involved in 'sexual sins' we're terrible. God wouldn't forgive them 'til they turned their lives around." She looked at Fred for confirmation, and he nodded. "It looks like Fred is inadvertently involved in one of those unforgivable sins."

"Why do you consider them unforgivable?" Slate asked. Before she could answer, though, he asked, "Do you know what entropy is?"

"Everything going from order to disorder." Fred answered.

"That's a pretty good explanation," the chaplain answered.

"What's that got to do with it?" Wilma asked.

Slate pulled up another chair and motioned for Wilma to take the one he'd vacated.

"God told Adam and Eve that if they ate from the tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, they would die."

"But they didn't." Wilma pointed out.

"Ah, but they did. Notice that God didn't tell them that they couldn't eat from the tree of life. As a matter of fact, He drove them out of the garden before they could, in their sinful state."

"Why?"

"Because He had a plan to redeem them from their sin."

"I don't get it." Fred stated.

"When they sinned, entropy destabilized what had been a perfect creation. Notice that they lived into their nine hundreds. Methuselah lived to be nine hundred sixty-nine. Entropy hadn't gone as far as it has now." He paused for his words to sink in.

"You see, as we look through the scriptures, we find that the age people lived to got shorter and shorter. Do you know where Adam and Eve's children got their wives?"

"Their sisters," Wilma said.

"Yeah," Slate agreed. "So why weren't their children inbred?"

"Entropy wasn't as far?" Fred asked, starting to understand.

"Right. As things deteriorated, the human race got bigger and bigger, so they were farther apart. Inbreeding wasn't as likely."

"Wouldn't inbreeding help the entropy along?" Wilma asked.

Slate laughed. "It might have, at that." He grew serious again, though. "But the point is, creation had been perfect, but it wasn't anymore."

"So what did that do, other than shorten lives?" She pressed.

"With entropy acting on DNA, what would happen?"

"Lots of things," Fred put in.

Slate nodded. "Yes. Sickness; congenital disabilities; death – exactly as God said."

"But Adam and Eve's DNA was perfect," Fred argued.

Slate nodded again. "Yep. But remember, entropy. There was suddenly death, so their bodies would have to replace cells that died off. And in that replacement, there was more entropy. The replacement wasn't perfect, so they eventually died."

Wilma thought for a few moments then asked, "So why the prohibition against people like Fred?"

"In the first place, the Bible doesn't mention intersex. As a matter of fact, it doesn't mention transgender at all."

"But men wearing women's clothes and women wearing men's," Wilma countered.

"What is an intersex person?" Slate asked. "Male or female?"

There was silence, then Fred answered. "Both."

Slate only nodded.

"But…" Wilma stopped as Slate held up his hand.

"There's more," the chaplain went on. "Again, there's entropy. An intersex person is defined as someone who has both male and female organs. Well, the brain is the most important sexual organ of all. Remember, God commanded us to 'fill the earth' before the fall. That commandment has stayed present in our general makeup. Look at how people find sex so captivating. The drive to procreate is built into our brain! So, of course, the brain is the most important. And if our brain is opposite of our body in its gender, it wants to be that other way."

"But the prohibition!"

"Entropy," Slate responded. "If the Earth is forty-five hundred years old, and Deuteronomy was written three thousand years ago, how far had entropy gone?"

"Forty-five hundred years?" Fred asked, not answering Slate's question, but rather asking about the age of the Earth.

Slate shook his head. "There are lots of arguments regarding evolution. I'm not getting into that right now. I will say, entropy happens to that as well, but I'm giving you information as to why you are not the 'sinner' that people say you are. Even in a fundamental church. If you truly believe the Bible as it is written, then the logical conclusion is, entropy explains why we have intersex people. For that matter, it explains so many of the 'sexual sins', and why they are prevalent today."

He paused for a moment, then continued. "Assuming the earth is only forty-five hundred years old, and Dueteronomy was written three thousand years ago, entropy has progressed three times farther than it had at that time."

"So why did my foster parents hold those sins so terrible?"

"Ignorance." Slate said. "Dogma." He paused again, then went on. "I doubt that they're terrible people. They were just repeating what they'd been taught. How do you expect someone who has no firsthand knowledge to understand what someone in that situation is going through?"

"In the New Testament, in First Corinthians, Paul, the author, says all things are permissible, but not all things are expedient. In other words, he can do anything, but not that he should. But will it harm someone else's belief in Christ?"

"But he's saying he can sin after he's saved!" Wilma argued.

"Of course he can," Slate said. "Jesus is the way God provided for redemption. His death provided forgiveness for sin throughout the ages."

"But I was told if you sin after you're saved, you have to ask forgiveness again."

"There are some rather fundamental churches that don't believe that," the chaplain pointed out. "Be sorry and apologize, sure. But not ask for forgiveness again. And if you think about it, if God promised eternal life immediately, at salvation, how is it eternal if you can lose it? How is it true that Jesus provided forgiveness for all sin if you need to ask for forgiveness for all subsequent sins after salvation?"

Again, he let them digest this information, then continued. "Jesus said, ‘believe on me and you're saved’. Not ‘believe on me and fix your life, and you'll be saved’."

Slate looked at his watch and said, "Well, I don't want to take up all your time together. Just think about what I said." He laughed, then said, "Our law says ignorance is no excuse, but God says we are to tell everyone about Him. He doesn't want anyone to perish."

"But what about people who haven't heard of Him? Not everyone who's died knew about Him."

"Tell you what. I'll come to talk to you about that tomorrow, okay?"

"Sure," Fred answered.

Spring! What a beautiful time of year! Everything is green. The grass, the new buds on plants. Even the Tamarack trees are producing green needles again.

So it was with buoyant hearts that the couple planned their wedding.

They had had an exciting courtship, as they grew up together, right next door to one another. Reginald Barker was nine, when eight-year-old Martin Romero came to stay with the next-door neighbors.

Martin‘s parents had died a few months before, and he was rather a depressed child. Before the fourth grade started, he turned nine, so he and his new friend, Reggie, were able to go to school together in the town‘s elementary school. They had the same teachers for the last two grades, and became best friends from then on. Throughout middle school, they ended up in most of the same classes, and high school was the same.

Let‘s back up a bit, however. Shortly after 4th grade started, Marty began being picked on. Two boys, Brad and Johnny, were basically normal boys, but Marty was short, new, and the youngest in the class. Therefore, picked on. Not bullied physically, but teased constantly. So it was that Reggie declared himself the protector of Marty.

While Reggie had never taken any martial arts, when he was in the first grade, a seventh-grader had decided that the little boy needed a lesson taught to him. It was taught soundly, but not the one that the seventh-grader had intended. Reggie now possessed the reputation as being the only first grader who could take on a seventh-grader and win! Thus, when he declared that anyone who wanted to hurt Marty would have to go through him, Brad and Johnny backed off.

Such was the respect that they had for Reg, as he was now referred to, that they too became friends of Marty, and declared that they would stand by him. While Marty could possibly not beat any of the other boys in a fight, anyone who challenged him, was in for a very bad time.

Some of the other boys would refer to Marty as a fag, or a fairy. Even a sissy boy, but never in front of one of the four. If Marty told one of the other three that there was the smallest inkling of the possibility that someone insulted him, the insulter would have to deal with three very tough friends of the insultee.

When they entered high school, someone who was not in the know of Marty‘s protection, made such an insult. All four boys were present.

On the way home from school that night, the poor soul met up with three boys, all of them very well developed, in the physical department. Not a fist contacted the young man, however. The nearness of the boy‘s perceived demise was enough to set him on the straight and narrow.

Marty knew of the show of power, and that no physical harm had happened to his insulter, but he did not know what was said. He just knew that the boy would turn in rapid retreat whenever he spotted any of the four.

Part of the show of force was from a conversation that Reg had with the young Marty during the waning days of their first summer next door to each other. Marty had confessed to Reg that he was really Marta. Not physically, mind you, but in her mind. She would be registered in school as a boy, but she was scared, because she acted distinctly feminine, a detail that had not escaped Reg‘s notice.

After Brad and John became friends, they were somewhat taken aback when Marta explained to them, but by then, their initial fear of Reg had culminated in true friendship with the young trans-girl, and they simply upped their protection.

In the summer between the eighth and ninth grades, Reg asked Marta if she was going to actually transition. She was now living as Marta full time and was even on hormone blockers. She turned to face Reg square on and asked, “What‘s it worth to ya?”

Now it must be noted that Reg was not a fool. In fact, Marta and the three boys plus Brad’s and John’s girlfriends, Shawna and Erica, had worked together on their homework for their entire school time, and Reg had helped the other three through rough times, and hard classes. So when Marta posed such a question, he answered immediately. “Spending the rest of my life with you.”

At this, Marta, while not surprised, was relieved. Reg had long been her knight in shining armor, and while she had hoped that the feelings might be reciprocated, she had thought it might be just a dream. Well, it turned out that it was, but one that was destined to come true.

To save up for college, the four decided to set up a rafting business down the Salmon River. The river was not particularly difficult, with most of the rapids being class III. All three of the men would pilot their own raft, and their girlfriends would act as spotters in the front. It was great fun for all of them, and they came back every summer to save up for the next year. Naturally, with the way they had done in high school, each had scholarships to fund their schooling, but the extra money from the rafting was well worth it.

It was two years after Marta graduated from university, that she and Reg decided to tie the knot. They had shared an apartment through college, and for the last two years, while Marta established herself in a counseling center in Lewiston. Somehow in her six years to get her masters degree, she and Reg had saved the money for her transition. It must be said that extra money had somehow been funneled her way from her friends as well. Shawna and Brad, and Erica and John had formed such tight partnerships while rafting, that they decided to make theirs for life as well. Brad had gone on to become a doctor, and John went into pharmacy. Reg, however, had chosen a degree in engineering.

The six people met for a final guided trip down the river, before dissolving their company. One of the people on this trip was a personal friend and Reg and Marta’s Pastor from their local church.

It was a wonderful trip, and the evening of their second day, the two said their vows on a rock outcropping overlooking the river. That night, and the rest of the trip, their tent would be set up far enough from the rest of the people that their celebration would not disturb anyone else.

-=#=-

Epilogue: Fifty-five years later

A man and a woman walk up to an outcropping overlooking the river below. They remember the joyous celebration of half a century ago and the looks on their friend’s faces as they kissed at this same place.

The two are not married, but they are wonderful friends. Shawna had been married to Bradly Cooper for forty-five years until her husband was killed in an automobile accident. John Matson, who had been married for almost sixty years until Erica had succumbed to cancer the previous year.

Their friends, Reg and Marta, were unforgettable. The two had been married for two days, and Marta had been thrown from their raft on the last set of rapids, hitting her head on a submerged rock, and washing up on the bank down the river. She had been knocked unconscious and drowned.

Reg was devastated. He lived for two more years but was unable to handle being without his lifelong friend and wife. He came to this very spot on what would have been their second anniversary and dove off. His body was found three days later.

Shawna and John stand on the edge of the rock, looking at the spot their friends stood, then Shawna tosses a wreath off, into the water.

It floats down the river as a testament to their love for two incredible people that they will never forget.

-=#=-

Author’s note: Much of the idea for this story came from a movie that I love, called “Same River Twice.” When I set out to write it, I knew how it would end, and I think this was the hardest ending I have ever put in any of my writings, either posted here or elsewhere. I wrote the epilogue in tears.

Seeing the Sights

A short story by Rosemary

In the summer of 1905, in a rural area of western Pennsylvania, two boys were born into the Wenger Mennonite community on the same day. They were pretty typical kids, and they went to school together. Played together. Worked together, and determined that when they went on rumspringa, it would be together.

Leroy was born in the morning of July 2^nd, and Eduard, later that night, and they considered that it was God’s will that they be friends. They loved each other like brothers, and when they were eighteen years old, they left home, and went to Philadelphia on their Rumspringa.

There, they decided to sow their wild oats. Normally, the Mennonite young people on Rumspringa would not get into nearly the trouble that an Amish child would. Perhaps the Amish allowing their children to go at a younger age was at fault. Whatever it was, Leroy and Eduard wanted to see what the world had to offer beyond what they had ever known.

Prohibition was still ongoing, but the two wanted a taste of alcohol before they returned home, so they sought a place where they could get some. It wasn’t terribly hard to find a place. A speakeasy, as they learned, was where they could find what they wanted.

The liquor hit them hard, but they somehow ended up in their hotel room.

The details were understandably fuzzy of what happened next, but somehow the two found that their love for each other was deeper than what they had thought, and for the next several days, they explored the possibilities. One need not have a very vivid imagination to realize what would have happened if they returned home, and were baptized into their church, so they decided to forgo the return.

Most kids returned home, but it was not unheard of to abandon the church during this time.

They decided to move farther east so they left Philadelphia, and headed to Pittsburgh, where the coal mines were.

Eduard was a genius with mathematics, and he got a job working with the company ledgers, while Leroy worked in the mines.

It was several months after they had been in Pittsburgh that over the dinner table Eduard looked up from his plate. “You know we’re never going to make enough to get away from here, don’t you?”

Leroy glanced up. “I know it. He looked down at his plate and started shoveling food into his mouth again.”

“I’ve got an idea.”

“What’s that?” Leroy kept eating.

“I can arrange it so we have enough money to leave.”

Leroy stopped eating and looked at his lover.

“Are you thinking of theft?”

“How long do you think we can go without people figuring out that we’re lovers?”

“What does it matter?”

Eduard shook his head, and tried another tack. “Don’t you think it would be nice to get away from such hard work? To be able to go and do what we want. When we left we wanted to see the world. We haven’t even left Pennsylvania!”

“We would have to leave town.”

“Certainly.”

“How do you propose we do that?”

“In disguise.”

And so it was, two weeks after the next pay was given out, two young women, Lena and Hedwig boarded a train bound for New York. Everyone boarding trains for the last week had been checked, but all of their papers checked out. Lena came from Illinois, and Hedwig from Missouri. They were traveling separately.

On reaching New York City, the two went their separate ways, and Hedwig never saw Lena again. However, by happenstance, she met a young man named Leo while she was checking into a hotel. He too, was new to the city, although he had come from North Carolina, not Pennsylvania.

Hedwig was having trouble with her bags, and he offered to help her. They enjoyed each other’s company, and made many friends in town. It was no surprise to anyone when they got married in 1932.

Not long after their wedding, Hedwig once again, pushed the boundaries. “Lee, I’d like to see more of the world.”

He laughed and asked, “Where do you want to go, Heddy?”

“I’d like to see where we came from.”

“Pennsylvania?”

“No,” she giggled. “Germany.”

He nodded. “It would be fascinating, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, I believe it would.”

So they wrapped up their affairs in New York, and set sail across the Atlantic Ocean. In Europe, they visited many countries, and were enthralled by the heritage. Eventually, in 1935, they settled in Frankfurt, and lived there for two years.

This time, it was Lee who decided he wanted to see more of the Americas. They had seen so little, that he felt that they really hadn’t done it justice.

Heddy agreed that it would be fun to see the sights again, and on March 3^rd, they boarded an airship to take them to New Jersey.

It was a wonderful flight, and they enjoyed looking down on New York as they flew toward New Jersey. They were standing by the angled windows, watching as the ship prepared to dock. Suddenly, a sound like a tornado came through the passenger areas!

Someone screamed, and Heddy turned to ask Lee what had happened. He was on fire! She looked around for something to grab to help him, but realized that her dress was in flames. Her next breath seared her lungs, and as she fell, she caught a glimpse of her husband, already laying on the floor. Her eyes ceased to function.

---

It's practically standing still now they've dropped ropes out of the nose of the ship; and (uh) they've been taken ahold of down on the field by a number of men. It's starting to rain again; it's... the rain had (uh) slacked up a little bit. The back motors of the ship are just holding it (uh) just enough to keep it from... It's burst into flames! It's burst into flames, and it's falling, it's crashing! Watch it, watch it, folks! Get out of the way, get out of the way! Get this, Charlie; get this, Charlie! It's fire... and it's crashing! It's crashing terrible! Oh, my! Get out of the way, please! It's burning and bursting into flames and the... and it's falling on the mooring mast and all the folks agree that this is terrible; this is one of the worst catastrophes in the world. Oh, it's crashing... oh, four or five hundred feet into the sky, and it’s a terrific crash, ladies and gentlemen. There’s smoke, and there’s flames, now, and the frame is crashing to the ground, not quite to the mooring mast. Oh, the humanity, and all the passengers screaming around here! I told you; it – I can't even talk to people, their friends are on there! Ah! It's... it... it's a... ah! I... I can't talk, ladies and gentlemen. Honest: it's just laying there, a mass of smoking wreckage. Ah! And everybody can hardly breathe and talk and the screaming. I... I... I'm sorry. Honest: I... I can hardly breathe. I... I'm going to step inside, where I cannot see it. Charlie, that's terrible. Ah, ah... I can't. Listen, folks; I... I'm gonna have to stop for a minute because I've lost my voice. This is the worst thing I've ever witnessed.

— Herbert Morrison, Transcription of WLS radio broadcast describing the Hindenburg disaster.

Something is missing

A Short Story by Rosemary

July 2020

The young man was twenty-eight years old. He was nothing special, just your normal, average, everyday, young man. He worked at an ordinary job, stocking shelves, selling things, and occasionally running the till. It wasn't a huge box store, but a small, Mom and Pop hardware store, in the middle of a small town right out of Leave It To Beaver. The only thing missing on the streets was Jerry Mathers.

He only lived a couple of blocks from work, and each day, he would wake to his alarm clock and get up. Stretch, rub his eyes, and look around the room for something that was missing. Not seeing it, he would, without fail, enter his ensuite, take care of the essentials, then shower. All the while, he knew that something was missing. He would then head to the kitchen, pour himself a cup of coffee and grab an apple, toss the apple about a foot into the air as he went out the door, and head to work.

It never failed. Even as he was the young man who never missed a day of work, cared for his house and garden on his weekend, attended church on Sundays, he always knew that something was missing.

So it was when he got up on a particular Thursday morning, he stretched and thought missing. Still the same thing. He went through his usual routine and went out the door toward Pete's Hardware. He waved at Mr. Melton, who was already up and pulling the dead flowers off of his roses.

Mr. Melton always was tending his roses, and the young man always wondered how many dead blooms could a person remove a summer. Oh well, Mr. Melton had roses that surrounded his house and made it hard to even see the color of the house. They were absolutely gorgeous.

He walked in the back door of the hardware store, clocked in and went to work ten minutes early, as usual.

“Morning, Lyle,” his boss said to him.

“Morning, Pete. How’re things today?”

“Same ole, same ole,” his old boss, Pete, said. “You know how it is.”

“Yes, Sir, I do.”

The day was pretty usual, and Lyle worked to Pete's expectations, just like he usually did. An old man with a grizzled beard and smelling of sweat and hard work came in wanting some ten-penny nails, and he was happy to help. A woman came in and wanted to look at a new bathroom faucet, and he talked her out of the cheap ten dollar model into one more expensive but longer-lasting.

Later in the day, two kids came in, wanting a foot cutoff of PVC pipe, two caps, and some cement. Lyle smiled and asked them why they wanted it. When they came up with differing answers, he told them he refused to sell them the equipment needed to make a pipe bomb. Naturally, the kids denied that it was their intention, but he didn’t believe them.

Once they left, the old man from earlier came in, this time wanting some grade two bolts, nuts, lock washers, and flat washers. “Whatcha doing with them?” Lyle asked as he was counting out the specified number and putting them in bags with the prices marked down.

“I’m fixing our porch swing. Layla was saying… Hey, son. Are you alright?”

Lyle had dropped the bag. Fortunately, it didn’t spill, but something the man said jarred loose a memory. Something foggy that he could barely remember. He bent down to pick up the bag, and it took a couple of tries to pick it up. He noticed as he continued writing prices on the bag that he was shaky. He could barely write legibly enough to read. He set the bag down on a ledge above the bins and tried again. Better.

Old Pete gave him a couple of strange looks later in the day, and finally came up to him, asking, “Are you okay, Lyle?”

The young man raised his shoulders in a shrug. “I don’t know, Pete. You ever have something bother you, but you don’t know what it is?”

The old man laughed. “That all ‘t is?” He pulled a pipe out of his overalls’ pocket and started tamping tobacco in it. “Every’n has that ‘appen, evry once ‘n awhile. Pay’t n’ mind, son.” He gave Lyle a friendly pat on the back, and went back into his office, shut the door, and lit his pipe. He always left the window open in his office, but he could never keep the pipe lit anyway. The smell in the office smelled more of Borkum Riff Cherry ™ tobacco than smoke.

Lyle made it through the rest of the day without any incidents and finally headed home. Usually, he would stop at the fuel stop next door and get a Coke, but it was still bothering him.

He got home and realized he hadn't seen Mrs. White walking her dog, a fun-loving boxer, on the way home, but he was home ten minutes earlier than usual. He shook his head. Things were very strange this day.

He went into the kitchen and made himself a small salad, then sat down on his couch and started sifting through his mail. Nothing unusual there, but that wasn't really a surprise. He tried to figure out what the old man had said that bothered him.

As he sat brooding, the inevitable happened, and perhaps it was a good thing. He started to drift off, and the conversation began to flow through his subconscious mind.

Suddenly, he stood up! He had it! Unfortunately, his mail and bowl that his salad remains were in went flying. While he was cleaning up the broken dish, he thought about what he had learned.

Nothing! It was gone again! What’s going on? he wondered. This was getting very strange. He tried to think about it for the rest of the evening, but he got nowhere. Usually, he would watch TV for the evening. He never watched games or anything. He secretly favored movies generally thought of as chick flicks, and since he lived alone, he was free to watch as many as he wanted. However, this evening he was troubled, and the TV remained off. He finally decided he wasn't going to get anywhere, so he got himself ready for bed and lay down.

Sleep didn’t come easily, as his mind continued to race. What was happening?

Finally, he drifted off, and he dreamed of a little girl named Layla. He felt like he knew her, and everything he dreamed from her point of view. When he awoke the next morning, Lyle knew that he had discovered what was missing. It was so important that he figure this out, that he called Old Pete and asked for the day off. It was no problem, as he was such a competent employee, always on time, and knowledgable. Pete had seen the day before how Lyle was troubled, so figured “th’ youth shou’ have some time ‘ta get ‘s head ‘n stray."

From eight to a bit after nine, that morning, Lyle sat, wondering about Layla. He called his mom to find out if she or his dad knew if he remembered a real person. No luck.

He figured he'd look at it from a different point of view. He was dreaming of a little girl named Layla as if he was her.. Why? Her name was very similar to his. What did it mean? Wait a minute. There was another little girl there too. His cousin! Katie! He hadn't seen her in, how long? He couldn't remember. He didn't even have her number, although she lived in the next town. He looked on his phone. There it was! He had her number!

It rang for a bit, and he almost thought she wasn’t going to answer, but finally, she picked up. “Well, this is a surprise, Lyle.”

He got straight to the point. “Katie, I need to ask you about something.”

“I’m doing fine, how are you?”

He was chagrined, and they chatted for a moment, catching up.

Finally, she said, “You wanted to ask me something?”

He told her. When he finished, there was silence. Had she hung up? “Katie?”

It was weak. “I’m here, Lyle.”

“You know something.” It wasn’t a question, because the answer was quite plain.

“Yeah, I do. I didn’t think you remembered. I was waiting for you to bring it up.” She paused. “You weren’t at his funeral, so I wondered if you had finally, but you said nothing afterward, so I was confused.”

“Your father?”

“Please don’t call him that. I never thought of him that way after he did it.”

Lyle thought about his uncle. He couldn’t even remember his face. Very softly, he asked, “What happened?”

“You were staying with us while your parents were on a business trip. You don’t remember that?”

“I can’t even remember Un…. his face.”

"It was summertime, of '99. Your third day with us, we were playing with my dolls. We were only seven. You told me that you enjoyed it, and then you told me about Layla."

“I see.” But he didn’t. He was starting to have his suspicions, but…

“Can I come over there so we can talk,” he asked.

“Better, I come over there. Ron may not take kindly to this story.” Ron was her husband, and was at work, but would be coming home soon.

“Alright.”

It only took Katie ten minutes to get there. When she arrived, Lyle had put out some coffee, and they talked.

“He was a complete bastard, you know?” Again, Lyle didn’t, but there was a strange feeling that was developing in the pit of his stomach. “You told me you wanted to be Layla rather than Lyle. You had always wanted to be. We ran to my room, giggling, and I got you everything you needed to be Layla that day.”

"Every morning, when we went out to play, we went as Katie and Layla. Then, the bastard came home from work early one day. Caught us. He declared no daughter of his would gonna be guilty of turning a boy into a fairy, so he went and cut a section of garden hose and brought it back in. He started in on me, telling me I wasn't gonna turn a boy into a fairy." She got a Kleenex ™ and blew her nose, then continued. "You tried to tell him that you already were, and it was your fault, not mine. He screamed at you, 'Not when I'm through with you, you won't be!'."

"Mom was screaming at him to stop. It was just harmless fun, and he swung the hose at her, catching her across her chest. She fell down and just cowered while he went back to work on you." She grabbed another tissue. "I know several times, you rolled over, and he got you in front. Finally, he quit."

“Three weeks later, you went home. You still had some bruises, but the bastard told your folks you had crashed on your bike. Your dad looked at your bike, and I don’t think he believed it, but he didn’t say anything more.”

“How come I can’t remember it?” Lyle asked.

“I don’t know. PTSD?”

“But you do.”

“He was always hitting me. It wasn’t anything new, except the violence of it. He beat Mom all the time too. Until she hung herself. I think he knew what was coming. She had bruises all over her, so he shot himself, and I was left to call 911.”

It took quite a while before Layla made an emergence again. She was terrified when she did, although her mom and Katie helped. When she was introduced to her father, she was trembling, hoping that he didn't respond as his brother had. Thank God, it was completely different. Maybe it wouldn't have been, but after Katie had primed him with the story of what happened long ago, he was ready to love his daughter no matter what.

Three years later, Old Pete stood in is office watching Layla working in the store. Several people had laughed when they met her, but she just brushed it away, and frankly, if it was possible, Layla was better at her job than Lyle. She was at ease.

He had definitely found what was missing.

This story is part of a different short story that I've been working on. I really wasn't thinking of writing this section of the story, only to allude to it. But as I was looking at it today, I realized there was a nice place for a Take Your Daughter to Work Challenge story.

I hope you enjoy!

As is always the case, thanks Malady! Your help is always appreciated!

---

"Joannie!" called Caleb. "Are you getting up?"

There was a high-pitched groan from the little girl's bedroom, and Caleb limped to the door. He knocked on it and called again. "Joannie!"

“Sleep!” came the voice from inside the room.

“It’s time to go to the factory, Sweetie!”

“Wanna sleep!”

“Don’t you want to make your bed?”

There was a thump, then the sound of running feet. The door burst open; Joannie pushed past her daddy and ran down the hall to the bathroom. The door slammed shut, and Caleb grinned. He knew his daughter was looking forward to this day, but she had forgotten what they were doing.

The factory was down the road a mile or so. Caleb had built it three years earlier. It was for sale now, but not because he wanted to move. His small family had to.

The bathroom door opened, and the small child ran back to her room, pushed past her daddy again, and slammed the door shut.

As soon as he regained his balance, he listened for a moment. He heard drawers moving and the closet door opening and closing. There was a scuffling sound, and he supposed that Joannie was sliding out of her pajamas and into her clothes.

Yes, he heard the sounds from inside the bedroom, becoming quieter. A moment later, he heard the crinkling of what sounded like a garbage bag, then the patter of feet on the floor. The door flew open, and Johnny stood there, a flat expression on his face.

“Whatcha got in the bag?”

“Clothes.”

“Clothes?”

"It's Saturday, Daddy. Nobody will be at the factory, so can't I be me while we're there?"

Caleb sighed. He was afraid, but he didn't want to refuse his daughter. He thought it over. As long as nobody came into the factory, it would be alright.

Caleb and Diane had no problem with Joannie, but they lived in Pennsylvania, right in the middle of Amish territory. Caleb was a product of it but had broken away a few years ago. He met Diane while he was away one summer in New Mexico, and they fell in love.

They married, and Caleb got a job apprenticing for a woodworker. He was a quick study and soon was making things beyond his teacher's ability.

Caleb needed to figure out what to do then. His teacher wasn't thrilled that the trainee could now easily become the trainer.

Then, he got a call from his mother. His father was sick and dying.

Caleb was surprised to hear about it, but he knew his mother and father followed the faith loosely. They had a phone, albeit a very old one. They used a gas crane to pick metal items from the trailers of trucks that delivered them, so it was expected that he'd get a call. But his parents weren't happy when he turned his back on their way of life.

Caleb decided that he would move back to the farm and help out.

The family moved northeast, back to Caleb’s home.

"Let's go, Daddy!" Joannie's voice broke into his reverie, and he limped to the garage and out to the car. Joannie came running along and out to the pickup. It was a hard thing for him to get into the cab, but he managed.

Little Johnny was born six months after his father died, and all seemed terrific. Until Johnny was a bit older and expressed some problems. He didn't play well with other kids in the area. He wanted to play with the girls, not the boys. It wasn't a good thing where they lived.

The worries that caused were rough, but Caleb also found it tough to open his factory. He bought the land from his mother after his father died. It was a parcel of land that contained twenty-five acres. About five acres butted up against the road. His house was at one end, and the factory at the other.

Johnny jumped out of the truck when they got to the factory. Caleb got out much slower and limped to the walk-through gate. He noticed that Johnny had the bag of clothes too. He just hoped that his daughter hadn't brought a dress. She was supposed to help with the coming build.

A buggy was approaching them, and Caleb thought he knew the driver.

Around the building was a chain link fence. Caleb had hated to erect it in this area. There shouldn’t be any need, but he wasn't sure if people would retaliate because of Joannie. The little girl was inter-sexed, but that didn't seem to matter.

When he explained the problem to his mother, she told him to not speak of it. "Nobody will accept it."

“I’m not Amish!” Caleb exclaimed.

“Do you want your factory patronized?”

“Not by people who would shun my daughter!”

His mother nodded. "I understand your feelings, Caleb. I love my granddaughter. But I think you might not have much of a business here."

Caleb thought about what his mother was saying. He didn't respond to her then, but he and Diane discussed the problem later that night.

King was barking furiously from inside the fence, his tail wagging like crazy! He wanted to see his people, particularly Joannie.

“Come on, Daddy!” called the little girl.

“You know, a boy that age shouldn’t be calling his father ‘Daddy’,” said a voice behind Caleb.

He turned, and it was Josiah, a man Caleb had grown up with. Caleb fought down the fury, especially any aimed at Josiah. He could blow up or try to understand his friend's side.

"That's only between Johnny, my wife, and me, Josiah."

"Look, Caleb. I know you aren't Amish. But you live in the middle of Amish country. Having a daughter that used to be a boy isn't very popular."

“I’ve never been a boy!” Joannie exploded.

Josiah didn't acknowledge the child but said, "I know she was inter-sexed, but people around here aren't going to believe that."

“Is intersexed, Josiah.”

“Right.”

“And how do you feel about it?” Caleb asked his old friend.

"I agree, Caleb. It's up to you."

“So I can change?” Joannie asked.

“Joannie!” Caleb said sharply.

Josiah didn't comment on Caleb's use of the feminine name, but he turned to the child this time. "It's not up to me what you wear, Joannie. I understand what happened to you, and don't hold it against you."

Turning to Caleb, Josiah said, "We've always been friends, Caleb. It pains me to say it, but you should sell and move away from here. For her sake." He pointed at the girl as she ran into the building.

Caleb nodded his understanding.

“And now, my friend, you made a couple of wheels for my buggy.”

Caleb smiled and led his friend into the shop.

-=#=-

“Okay, Princess, bring me a 4x4.”

“What’s a 4x4?”

"They're the big, long pieces of wood over there," he pointed.

Joannie picked up a three-foot-long piece of wood. It was all she could do to carry it to her dad, who clamped it into the lathe. He put on a face-shield and told her to sit down some ways off. Once she moved off, he started to trim the wood with his chisels. Every few minutes, he would hold a piece of cardboard up to the piece to check if the design was perfect. Then he sanded and polished the wood.

Once satisfied, he had her bring him another one, and he did the same, carefully matching the measurements on the other piece. Then, he took them over to the table saw and cut each 4x4 into four long pieces.

The design on each board was different, and Joannie wasn't sure what he would do. Taking them to the workbench, he put glue on each end of the pieces, where he had yet to turn any designs.

Then, he placed the pieces together to alternate which board they were from. He turned them where the turned parts were inside, however. This left the design inside viewable but not quite recognizable.

He worked on the other six 4x4s and did something similar, but each design was done differently.

When he finished the last two boards, he returned the original two to the lathe and began turning again. This time, he turned the ends and drilled a hole into one end.

Carefully, he sanded and polished it, then told his daughter to come and see what he'd done. In the lathe was the silhouette of Snow White. The inside-out lathing Caleb had done had been to turn one board as her front side and the other as her back. When they were placed in the configuration he had done, they made a perfect silhouette.

The other 4x4s became Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, and Alice in Wonderland silhouettes. He used a dowel to glue the pieces into a six-foot post, then put them in the back of his truck.

He made a decision that was perhaps reckless. Under cover of carrying some things, he allowed Joannie to accompany him to the truck and get in. He shut the door before moving away from the opening. Then He put the remaining pieces of wood they'd used into the bed.

Finally, he drove home.

They exited the truck in the garage, and the little girl hurried into the house.

Once Diane saw how she was dressed, she questioned Caleb why he had allowed their daughter to ride home with him instead of their son.

"Johnny's not real," Caleb said. "I'm tired of hiding Joannie. We'll probably have to move away from here anyway, so I refuse to hide her anymore."

Diane hugged him tight and then gave him a wonderful kiss.

Caleb went into Joannie's room and began to assemble the bed. Some boards were the frame, but the beautifully turned 4x4s were uprights at each corner.

At the top of the posts, joining them together, were dowels that he had turned, then he sanded the top of them so the curtains on the canopy bed could slide open and closed. The result was a rod with a design cut into the bottom edge. The remainder was smooth for the curtain rings.

The rings were also made in his shop, each one a beautiful wooden circle that the curtains were attached to.

When he was done assembling it, he called Diane in. She stopped at the door; her mouth hung open just as much as her daughter's.

“It’s beautiful!” she told Caleb.

"It's just what I wanted, Mommy!" Joannie said exuberantly. "Exactly what I wanted!"

---

Don't forget to comment and leave kudos! Groans are welcome too!

If you've never seen nor heard of inside out wood turning, you might check out this link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8RA4cg6SbZk