Broken!
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(All images and artwork are property of and copyrighted by Shauna J. Rousseau.)
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Broken! - Chapter 1
Author:
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TG Themes:
Permission:
All Rights Reserved.
(All images and artwork are property of and copyrighted by Shauna J. Rousseau.)
ALEX
“I don’t understand, Momma,” I look at her totally exasperated. Sure, I am just thirteen, but I am no idiot. “I really think it’s time to find a new psycho…um shrink,” I spit. I see the look on her face and relent, “OK,…’counselor’, if you insist. But she is bat-shit crazy!”
“Alex! Language! And don’t bad-mouth Dr. Smythe,” Mom admonishes me.
I blush—more at my use of sub-par language than the fact that Mom admonishes me—but I don’t relent. “Momma,” I exclaim, “did you hear what she ‘prescribed’ as my ‘treatment’ for the latest bullying that ‘The Monster’ subjected me to?”
She just shakes her head and says, “Look, Alex, I know you don’t believe she knows what she’s doing, but not everyone has your IQ—and her ‘treatment’,” she uses air-quotes to emphasize the word, “as you denounce it, is much more than that. Jesse McCarthy will get her dues—the recording you have will ensure that. But following April’s—Dr. Smythe’s—prescription will have more far-reaching implications. It will show that you’re not afraid of bullies—and could help others that are being bullied, right? We both know that you’re all about that…”
I shake my head and sigh. I look at her in pity—she really does not get it. OK, I may have an IQ of 165—not genius, but enough to not be an idiot… “Momma,’ I sigh again, “the recording you’re referring to is not enough to even embarrass ‘The Monster’, let alone call for any punitive actions by the school. It wouldn’t qualify as ‘bullying’ under the school’s statutes, so, nothing will happen other than embarrass me, so how is this supposed to help? I will just become even more of a laughingstock!”
I fight the tears forming in my eyes. I will not give in to them! I shudder at the thought and do not even know why I have the sudden feeling of abject fear.
It is Momma’s turn to sigh. She gives me a hug and tussles my long hair, “Go get a Dr. Pepper from the machine. Lord knows how you can drink that stuff… I need to talk to April for a minute and then we will head out.”
I give her a ‘look’ that I know is meaningless—but she does not seem to notice. Keeping her on edge is my only defense at times like this. What else am I going to do? I nod and make my way to the cafeteria for a Dr. Pepper. I drop in the money and select my choice. Without thinking, I pop the top with a sigh and take a deep drink of the liquid nectar of the Gods.
MADDIE
I give April an exasperated look as she enters the exam room after Alex leaves. I sigh and complain… OK, I whine, “April, are you sure about this? Jeremy was a bastard and I’m nowhere near physically—or mentally—past his abuse… My poor Alex… Are you sure about this?”
April looks at me, “Maddie, I can’t even imagine the pain you and Alex went through. Am I sure? How can I be? I only have my education, training, and experience as a psychiatrist to go on. Do I truly believe this to be the best course of action based on those same qualities? That is an emphatic ‘yes’! We have to take it slow. Alex is extremely smart—some would call him a genius. I don’t trust that last test—I believe it is off on the low side. Never-the-less, Alex is extremely smart—and extremely vulnerable. Your ex-husband did a lot of damage—like a bull in a china shop. It’s our job to very carefully undo that damage. Alex’s IQ will not only not help us there, it will be a huge hindrance…”
ALEX
I sip my Dr. Pepper and stew while staring at the table in front of me. I go through the facts of the situation and don’t rely on the feelings that Dr. Quack wants me to. Fact one, I am a slightly—OK, more than slightly—overweight thirteen-year-old boy that is otherwise healthy. Facts two and three, I am fairly smart and like to spend time to myself, so OK—I am introverted and like to study, which makes me sound a lot older than I am. Fact four, I don’t remember my Dad—he is in prison for beating me and my Mom up. Fact five, since I do not remember him, there is no sense in talking about my feelings about him or him being gone. Unverified fact six, I guess he was supposed to have bullied me, too—like I said, I do not remember.
I pull out my phone and scroll through to the video library. I start the video in question and fight the tears that want to form in my eyes as I watch. Fact seven, I also do not remember moving here—even though it was just last year. I really do not recall much of anything until about a year ago. Bits and pieces of Momma crying about Dad’s trial and memories of hospital smells. I feel a tear roll down my cheek and see it hit the screen on my phone. I shudder and look over my shoulder in fear. Fact eight, I am terrified of crying and I do not know why.
I quickly dry the trail the tear left on my face and wipe the droplets off my phone. The video is still playing and Jesse McCarthy is surrounded by her posse of mean girls taunting me, “Look at the new girl with her boobs! Look girls, they’re bigger than mine! Why don’t you get a bra like a good little girl?”
I focus on the facts to clear my mind. Fact one, I am not a girl. Fact two, my gynecomastia does not make me a girl—it is a symptom of being overweight. Fact three, girls wear bras and fact one established that I am not a girl, ergo I will not be wearing one. Fact four, I do not want to do any sort of aerobic exercise with Dr. Quack’s daughter to lose weight and “take care” of my gynecomastia. Final fact, I want nothing to do with girls—any girls!
I sit there petulantly and almost throw my phone at the vending machine in front of me in exasperation. I jump and almost drop it when it signals I have a text. I look at it and groan. Momma is ready for me to come back up.
APRIL
I look at Maddie and shake my head. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly then add, “I’m not sure if Alex will ever get over his amnesia. It’s both a function of the physical trauma from his head injury and very likely from the mental trauma that built up over time. Like I said, we’ll have to move slowly, but I think if we can get him comfortable working out with Jewel, we can start making some progress on his issues with girls in general. Getting him over the deeper trauma his Dad caused and to open up to his true self is going to be a hard road. But you’re totally correct in worrying that him keeping that bottled up is just a ticking time-bomb waiting to go off. If we can’t defuse it, we need to let it explode under controlled conditions, where we can minimize the damage as much as possible.”
She looks at me in exasperation but only nods. Then she again asks the question she has repeatedly asked, “And you are sure about the medication? I mean it’s been hard enough having to remove basically all photos from the house because they were of Lexi and Alex wouldn’t understand. That already feels like I’m lying to him in a way, and this…” She lets the sentence drop and fights back more tears.
I patiently answer, “Yes, Maddie, I’m sure. I was Lexi’s doctor before her Dad beat her to within an inch of her life just for being who she was. I’m now Alex’s doctor because he can’t remember ever being Lexi. That doesn’t mean that he isn’t still her. I don’t know when he will remember—and when he does, I’m not sure what the long-term impact of the mental and physical abuse your ex-husband subjected him to will be. He may have literally beaten Lexi out of Alex to the extent that she has ceased to exist. There are still doctors that believe that is possible. In my professional opinion, that is hogwash—even if those that are subjected to such extremes vow off anything that has to do with conforming to their true gender doesn’t mean there aren’t still gender-conformance issues buried down deep. Of course, Lexi was still young and Alex is too. I honestly believe that Alex is transgendered, and Lexi is buried in there somewhere screaming to come out, but Alex is going to have to let her out on his own terms. We just have to make sure he knows it is safe to do so. It is a true balancing act. If he never lets her out, delaying male puberty a while won’t make that much difference—it is the same argument I made when I said delaying Lexi’s female puberty until we were sure wouldn’t make that much difference.” I give her a penetrating look and finish, “We just need to be sure whichever way this goes is the right way. Unfortunately, we can’t let Alex in on what we’re doing like we did Lexi.”
She still does not look fully at peace with the answer but seems to accept it. I know she knows it is the right answer, she just still blames herself for everything that happened. I sigh and strongly reiterate, “Maddie, what happened isn’t your fault. There was no way you could have known the lengths that he would go to. You left him and he tracked you down. He admitted to that in court. It was the calculated and pre-meditated act of a deranged man. He is where he belongs and he won’t get out. Unfortunately, you are left with picking up all of the little pieces—both Alex’s and your own.”
I hand her a box of tissues to dry her eyes and continue, “Now, let’s bring Alex back up here and finish this up. You need to stay strong and hold the line with him on working out with JuJu. They used to be best friends and it’s tearing Jewel up that he doesn’t remember her. This time together will be good for both of them—whether Alex knows it or not. I have stressed to JuJu what’s at stake. She doesn’t have the IQ that Alex has, but she more than makes up for it in EQ.”
She finishes drying her eyes and nods. She digs in her purse and pulls out her phone to send a text. When she is done, she sighs and visibly makes a determined effort to pull herself together. She simply says, “He’s on his way up.”
ALEX
I exit the elevator and enter Dr. Quack’s office suite. I am sure my face reflects my mood as I storm past the receptionist’s desk and back to the exam room I had exited only a few minutes before. I open the door and sit down without a word, a scowl on my face and my arms crossed in front of me. I know I am the picture of a petulant kid, but it is not fair what they want me to do!
Dr. Quack looks at me and smiles. I am sure it is a fake smile. She says, “OK, Alex. I have talked it over with your Mom and we have agreed on what you need to do. I know you don’t remember it, but you used to take pride in your appearance. We need to get you back to having that pride. It could help trigger some memories if you get back into some of your old habits. You do want your memories back, yes?”
My scowl gives way to a dumfounded look—just for a beat. Of course, I want my memories back! What a stupid question! I hate not remembering things that happened before a year ago. The first thing I can remember is waking up from my coma in the hospital and Momma calling me Lexi—or I think she was. I was pretty groggy from the drugs and she was pretty disturbed. Anyway, I slip back into my scowl and kind of growl, “Of course, I want my memories back; what do you think? But I don’t want to work out with some girl—even if she is your daughter! When ‘The Monster” finds out that I’m working out with a girl—and she will—it will be even worse on me! I can hear it now, ‘Look at the new girl with the boobs that wants to be a cheerleader’!”
She looks at me and asks, “You like ‘just the facts’, right? OK, fact one, Jessie McCarthy is a typical mean girl. Yes, that’s pretty much the female definition of a bully. Fact two, you are correct that it’s highly unlikely that the current school administration will take any action against her, given who she is. Fact three, she can only hurt you if you let her. By showing her that she can’t bother you, you win and she loses face. Fact four, we know she is bothering you, so the best way to remedy that is to eliminate the fuel for her fire. Bonus fact five, you get in better shape and gain self-efficacy and confidence. Did I miss anything?”
Before I can say anything, Momma speaks up, “Alex, Hon, you are going to do this. No arguing. Like Dr. Smythe said, you used to take great pride in your appearance. We are going to stop on the way home and get you some workout clothes and some nice clothes to wear to school. I have also made an appointment with Joyce to take care of that mess of hair you have. You are going to give this a shot. Of course, it won’t happen overnight. I’m getting rid of all the junk food and you’re going to start eating right again. It’s as much my fault as yours that you have let your body get so out of shape. You have always been really smart, Hon, but you used to also be smart about your body. You need to relearn that.”
I feel my eyes bugging out and my head is about to explode. I have had issues with headaches ever since my coma. Fact one, I do not remember my Dad kicking me senseless. Fact two, I still feel the after-effects. Fact three, I think I am going to throw up.
I cannot help myself. I whine, “Momma! I really don’t care that I ‘have let my body get out of shape’! I’m fine with just staying in and reading—OK, with a snack, or two.”
She gives me a look that I cannot fathom, but I am sure it does not bode well for me if I keep on. She says, “You can stay in and read after a good workout and you can snack on something healthy!”
Dr. Quack looks at me and says, “Before you go, we need to go next door and have some blood taken. They will also give you a quick shot.”
My head snaps around and I ask with a little more venom than I intend, “And why would I need blood drawn from an endocrinologist—or a shot for that matter?”
Dr. Quack gives me another sweet, but fake smile. She answers as if talking to an idiot, “Because your Momma doesn’t want to go across town to the hospital to get it done. Dr. Green’s office is the only one in the building qualified to do it. Any more questions? No? Good! Let’s go.”
MADDIE
I look at Alex brooding in the passenger’s seat rubbing his arm where he got the hormone blocker that he has no idea that he got. I feel terrible about deceiving him but I have to trust April. A little over a year ago, my same child was looking forward to knowingly getting that shot. At that time, I had a happy-go-lucky, care-free daughter sitting in that same spot. Now I have a brooding son. I admit that I am conflicted and confused. It was hard enough realizing that my son, Alex, was my daughter, Lexi—something that Jeremy, my maniacal ex-husband could never process. Now, I am having to figure out a way to make my son realize that he is my daughter—not because I want him to be, but because deep in my heart I know she is in there hurting and needing to come out.
Jeremy brutalized Lexi and beat her nearly to death and put her in a coma for four months. According to April, Alex’s coping mechanism after waking up was to bury Lexi deep and lock her up where she is ‘safe’. It was hard for me to agree to the hormone blockers that will prevent Alex from developing as a boy so that Lexi can develop as the girl she is meant to be. If for some reason Lexi truly is gone forever, then we will simply let nature take its course and Alex will just be a ‘late bloomer’. At this point, I do not care if it is Alex or Lexi that survives—as long as my child is happy and healthy. I am not sure that Jeremy has left us that option, though. I know that I will never be the same after he brutalized me—I cannot imagine what is going through my poor child’s mind.
I do not say a word. There is no need. Alex knows that I am serious. Neither of us may be happy about it, but he will toe the line. I pull into a parking spot at the mall and push the shift lever into park before I speak. I blow the air forcefully from my lungs as I say, “OK. Let’s go. We have some shopping to do…and I know you aren’t a fan.” What I do not say, but think is ‘anymore’…
I grab my purse and open the door.
ALEX
The shot didn’t really hurt, but I try and get some sympathy, anyway. OK, so it is not a smooth-move, but hey I am only thirteen and hopefully soon I can blame my moods on puberty and my hormones. Who knows, maybe I already can. But the fact is that there is not really anything developing to support that hope.
I put on a good show of sulking as I get out of the car and follow Momma into the mall. She leads me into Bloomfield’s, the anchor department store that she is the manager of. She subsequently drags me around and makes me try on hundreds of outfits. OK, fact is that it was only ten, but it sure did seem like hundreds. I slap my head. Dr. Quack is getting to me. She has made me focus on my feelings so much that I am actually obscuring the facts.
I square my shoulders and focus on the facts. The final fact of the evening is that I appreciate the supper we get at my favorite restaurant, that just happens to be at the mall, as my reward for being a ‘good sport’ and ‘hanging in there’ while we get my ‘outfits’ for working out and school. I even appreciate it with the ‘healthy’ restrictions Momma places on my available menu choices.
On our way out, we pass by a Claire’s and Momma smiles impishly at me. She asks in a dead serious tone, though, “You know Alex, not so long ago, you begged me to take you in there and get your ears pierced. I promised when you were officially a teenager, I would. You’re thirteen now, should we go in?”
I gasp, “Momma! Get a grip!”
The funny thing, though, is that, somehow, I do have this dark memory—more like a nightmare—of wanting just that and picture myself with pierced ears. I pinch myself when it does not freak me out.
Momma grins and says, “OK, come on then, let’s get home and put your things away. Your hair appointment is at seven in the morning. I’m sorry to get you up early on a Saturday, but it was the only appointment that Joyce had available this weekend.”
An hour later, all of the tags are cut out of my new clothes and they are hung in my closet. I am ready for bed and let Momma know, “I’m beat, Momma. I’m sorry I was cantankerous today, but I really am not enamored with the solution proffered.”
Momma grins at me and says, “Tough cookies, Love. Big words won’t change the outcome. Sleep good!”
I get ready for bed and lay down. I look around my room and still cannot shake the feeling that this is not really my room. Sure, Momma told me we were just getting ready to fix it up for me when I was put into my coma, but the overly girly guest room still gives me weird vibes and I have found myself nearly running into it on several occasions instead of my room when I was not thinking.
I shake my head and close my eyes—praying that the nightmares do not return tonight.
Broken! - Chapter 2
Author:
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Audience Rating:
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TG Themes:
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All Rights Reserved.
(All images and artwork are property of and copyrighted by Shauna J. Rousseau.)
MADDIE
I fix a high-protein, low carb breakfast and go to wake Alex. I peek in his room, still very aware that not too long ago, it was our very bare guest room. I glance back towards our current guest room and sigh—I would be going in to wake up Lexi in that room if Jeremy had not completely shattered our lives. I open the door further and step into the room. I feel like crying—the way Alex is laying in the bed all twisted up in his covers is a dead give-away that he was restless last night because of the ‘nightmares’. April is actually encouraged that this is a sign that his memories are trying to break through to the surface, but it still breaks my heart to see my baby suffer and struggle so.
He is now seemingly in a deep, semi-restful sleep and I am shaken by the image of my happy Lexi peacefully dreaming of living out the life of her dreams. It is in moments like this, when he is most relaxed, that the post-operational differences in his face are apparent. They had to rebuild so much of it after the beating he took from his father. Overall, he has more exaggerated feminine lines because that is what the doctors and surgeons—and I—all thought Lexi would want. He will have a strikingly beautiful face for a woman when it matures. Of course, he will have a very feminine face for a man if he chooses that path.
I hate to, but I gently shake him awake and whisper, “Alex, wake up, Hon. We need to be at Joyce’s in less than an hour and your breakfast is ready.”
He jerks and his eyes open. There is obvious fear in them until he realizes it is me. He grasps at me and pulls me into a fierce bear-hug. I fight my tears and just hug him back until I feel his heartbeat return to a more normal rate. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes and says, “Sorry, Momma. I…”
I put my finger on his lips and ask, “Bad dreams but you can’t remember them?”
He nods. He never can remember what they are, but they really bother him. April’s hypothesis is that he is rehashing what his father did to him—maybe he is also fighting Lexi wanting to come back ‘out’; again, because of what his father did to him.
I say, “We’ll figure it out, Hon. I really think that doing everything to help with your demons at school will also help with your dragons at home.”
He smiles wanly and says, “Don’t count on it, Momma. But…I hope you’re right.”
ALEX
I snap to attention in abject terror! My eyes snap open expecting Daddy’s foot to be coming down on my head! I see…Momma and pull her into a hug while my heartrate comes back down to normal. Along with my slowing heartbeat, the memory of the nightmare fades and I cannot remember anything that I had dreamt about last night. I can remember that it was terrifying, but it eludes me as to what it was that scared me so.
Momma tries to placate me and I pretend like it works then get up after she kisses me on the head. I say, “I will be right there, Momma.”
I splash some water on my face and go to my closet. I groan when I realize that all of my old clothes are gone. All that is left are the new clothes from our shopping spree, yesterday. Momma must have come in after I was asleep last night and removed my old things. I pull on a pair of my new shorts and a polo and skulk into the kitchen. I whine, “Momma, where are my comfy clothes? It’s the weekend!”
She shakes her head and admonishes me, “It’s the new you—all around. Now eat up. You have a nice egg-white omelet and turkey bacon. You’re still a bit young for black coffee, but I did add a bit to your milk.”
I grin. The breakfast sounds horrible, but I have been begging her for weeks to let me try some coffee. I am a teenager, after all!
I take a big swig of the light tan mixture—mostly milk with just a splash of coffee—and almost spit it out. Talk about bitter! I shriek, “Momma! Can I have some sugar? Sweetener? Something?”
She giggles and shakes her head. In a dead-serious tone, though, she says, “No, if you’re big enough to drink it, then you are big enough to handle it the way it was meant to be consumed. I won’t have you getting hooked on those calorie-laden, sickly sweet ‘coffees’. You see how I drink it, right? Coffee is meant to be enjoyed strong and black—nothing polluting it. Now eat up and let’s go.”
I choke down the omelet and bacon that isn’t terrible, but not what I would have chosen—the thought of a nice sticky bun or sweet cinnamon roll makes my mouth water. After taking the last bite, I wash it all down with a shudder.
I quickly brush my teeth and we are on our way to get my hair cut. To be honest, it is about shoulder-length and a total mess. I could not even get a brush through it after my last shower. I usually just put it in a low ponytail and forget about it. I guess maybe it is time to get it taken care of. Maybe I should just go for a simple, care-free buzz cut!
JOYCE
I finish up Gwen’s hair and usher her out the door. It is almost time for Lexi—I mean Alex—to show up for her—I mean his—appointment. I am not sure how this is going to work. I know Maddie wants me to keep it as feminine as I can get away with, since she is still expecting Lexi to ‘come back out’, but I am just not sure how…Alex…is going to react to what I may wind up with. Maybe something more unisex that is easily styled in a feminine way… Or something feminine that I can style more in a boyish way.
My reverie is broken when Maddie and Alex enter. I have not seen…him…since his coma and I can hardly believe my eyes. He must have gained 50 pounds and while dressed nicely it looks like he otherwise just does not care about his appearance at all.
I greet them both, “Maddie, it’s great to see you! And, Alex, it has been quite a while since you were in my shop! My, your hair has gotten into quite the mess! We need to fix that right away.”
I look at him and wonder if he is OK. He is just standing in the doorway looking around with a funny look on his face.
ALEX
I am caught off-guard when I enter the salon. I have this creepy feeling that I have been here before. Then when Joyce indicates that I actually have been, I get the shivers. I have a hard time finding my voice, but finally get out, “I…I…I’ve been here before…” It is not quite a question, but certainly not a statement. I have no idea if it is a fact.
Momma comes over and hugs me. She nods and says, “Yes, Hon. You used to come here every other week before your coma. You had just decided to let your hair start growing out a short time before your father attacked you. I haven’t pushed you into coming since you didn’t say anything and I think, whether you remember it or not, subconsciously, that is still what you want. Joyce is just going to get it shaped up and looking nice instead of like a rat’s nest.”
I still have this weird feeling of almost remembering the place, but…not. Very similar to my dreams and nightmares—the memories are just out of reach.
Joyce says, “Why don’t you come sit down, Alex, and let me see what we have to work with?”
I nod and slowly go to her chair. I start to say I just want it buzzed off when Momma adds, “Yes, please see if you can save the length. It’s been growing for close to two years now and it would be a shame to have to cut any off.”
I jump in and say, “Maybe it would be better to buzz it all off…”
Joyce cuts me off, “Nonsense! I’m sure we can salvage this mess. It’s just going to take some work. I can’t guarantee pulling out some of the tangles won’t hurt a little, though!”
I groan and Momma and Joyce giggle. Momma says, “It will be a good lesson to keep it untangled to begin with.”
I do not even bring up the fact that is not what I was groaning about—at least not yet.
Joyce reaches down and pulls off the band that is holding my hair in a low ponytail and makes ‘tsk-ing’ sounds as she fingers through it the best she can. She finally says, “Well, there are lot of split ends, so we will have to cut a little off the length; not too much though. I will show you how to take better care of it with good products to prevent them from splitting so bad. It will also help with the tangles. Let’s start with a good washing.”
She leads me over to the sink and has me sit in the chair before lowering the back. My neck nestles into the little nook made for it in the sink and Joyce wets my hair with nice warm water before adding a lot of shampoo and working it in. Fact one, I really like someone washing my hair. She massages my scalp as she continues to work in the suds and finally rinses it out. Fact two, she can keep doing this all day! She repeats the whole procedure, then adds a handful of conditioner to my wet hair. She spends a lot of time working it in to the strands, then rinses everything again. Fact three, I don’t want her to quit! She then leads me back to the other chair and starts combing out the tangles.
“Ouch,” I exclaim when she tugs hard on the first tangle. Fact four, that hurt! That is only the first of many expletives.
MADDIE
I sit in the waiting area and watch Joyce pull the tangles out of Alex’s hair. With it washed and conditioned, it reaches about three inches past his shoulders and down his back. It is straight as an arrow and starting to take on its old healthy, deep-red, coppery sheen from the deep conditioning. His hair had become so dull that it looked more like a muddy red than the deep red it is supposed to be. With it taking on a healthier sheen again, I am again struck by its stunning contrast to his emerald-green eyes.
I cannot help but think back to his reaction coming into the salon. It was like he almost remembered. Lexi came in every two weeks to have her hair conditioned and shaped as it slowly grew out. On occasion, I would splurge and we would get mani-pedis. We did that more often at home as a mother-daughter activity, though. She did spend a significant amount of her pre-coma Thursday afternoons here, so it is encouraging that it seemed to spark some sort of recognition—even if just for a split second. I will have to let April know.
I watch Alex and Joyce simultaneously sigh in relief as she is able to pull her comb through completely unhindered for the first time. She continues combing for several more minutes and then picks up her scissors. She cuts the tiniest amount off the ends and checks them. She repeats this process several times until she is sure that she is back to healthy hair. Overall, she only had to cut off a little less than half an inch to get back to a healthy and even state.
ALEX
I watch as she cuts little chunks off the ends and checks them until she seems satisfied. Fact one, there is no way I am letting it get tangled again. Fact two, I cannot believe how long my hair actually is with it washed and combed out this way. Something is tickling the back of my mind that seems like an impossible fact, that I did want it this way. Something about the sheen and how it frames my face. I mentally shake my head to clear it and pull myself back to paying attention to what she is doing.
She runs the strands through her fingers and holds up sections. She walks around and looks at me from different directions and angles. Finally, she says, “OK, I have a plan. It is a cutting-edge look for a boy but it will maintain the length and give you a lot of styling options—including your favorite ponytail.”
Momma nods and says, “That sounds great, Joyce. Don’t you agree, Alex?”
I look at them both in the mirror and give them the facts, “It’s really hard to say, Momma. The fact is that I haven’t seen it yet.”
Joyce laughs and says, “You will love it, I promise. I will even put it back in a ponytail for you when I’m done.”
She takes her scissors and makes this asymmetrical cut across the front of my face holding the razor-sharp blades open like a ‘V’. I suddenly have long bangs—longer on the left side than the right. Before I can blink, she pulls up a large section of my hair and clips it up, makes a quick sweeping cut with her ‘V’ed scissors, rapidly lets a little of the hair out of the clips, sweeps a cut, and repeats this several times. When she is done, my hair feels a lot lighter and has a layered look to it. She steps back, makes an additional cut here and there and finally says, “OK, back to the sink and let’s wash it out and put in some leave-in conditioner to combat your long-term neglect.”
I am speechless. Fact one, it took her nearly an hour to get the tangles out and decide what to do. Amazing fact two, it took her less than five minutes to cut it. Absolute fact three, I already hate the long bangs getting in my eyes.
JOYCE
I struggle with what to do. At this point, all I can think of is Lexi dreaming of the layered style she told me about every time she was in here for weeks on end. Giving Alex that cut would be bold. It is not an unheard of cut for straight boys/men, but certainly…rare. The fact that Alex seemed to remember coming in here only firms up my resolve not to mess it up for Lexi. I can always cut it more later.
I make quick work of the layered style, with a promise to put it in a ponytail when I am done. Of course, it will have to be a higher one than he is used to because of the way it is layered. Well, and the bangs will give him some fits. He may have to learn the benefits of clips, barrettes, or headbands.
I take him back to the sink, I think in a bit of shock, and wash his hair again. Then I put in some professional-strength leave-in conditioner. It soaks right in and nearly begs for more.
I take him back to the chair and quickly blow his hair dry using a big round brush to give it volume, then pull it back into a tight ponytail. It is slightly lower than most girls would wear, but quite a bit higher than his old one. I finger his bangs away from his eyes and show him that the left ones are actually long enough to tuck behind his left ear, leaving the right ones cascading down his forehead. A bit of gel helps hold it in place. It is the exact look that Lexi always dreamed about. Tucking them back will give him an unmistakable feminine ‘quirk’, but again, all I can think of is Lexi…
I give it a final once-over. The conditioner has done wonders on his hair and it is light and nearly fly-away fine. It has a deep-red, coppery sheen that contrasts beautifully with his emerald-green eyes. If I did not know better, I would swear that his facial features are much more feminine than I remember. It is interesting what a year of not seeing him has evolved into. He is going to be stunning when he matures a bit more.
“OK, Alex,” I smile, “there you go. It’s on its way to becoming much healthier now and it’s back in its ponytail. You will have to wear it a bit higher and tighter than you are used to because of the layering, but I think it looks very nice on you. I will give you some professional products, shampoo and conditioners, to take home. Your Momma can show you how to use them. I expect you to take better care of that beautiful hair you have, OK? No more tangles!”
MADDIE
I almost cry when I see my baby with the look that Lexi had so long dreamed of and now cannot enjoy. With a much healthier sheen and its deep-red color, the striking cut of his hair wonderfully frames his face and brings out the green in his eyes. I did not ask Joyce to go with that cut and wonder why she decided to do so. I will have to ask her later.
I snap out of it when Joyce admonishes him to take better care of it going forward. “Oh, you will, right, Alex,” I ask in that Mom-tone that allows for no argument. “I will give him lessons on how to use the products and how to do daily brushings. A hundred strokes with a soft-bristled brush will keep it in shape and tangle-free. Don’t you worry, Joyce, when we come back in what, two weeks?” Joyce nods and I continue, “In two weeks, it will be in even better shape.”
I can tell he wants to argue but he does not even let out a groan. I smile sweetly at him and lead him to the counter where Joyce gives us a bag with the same products she just used on him and that I still have almost full bottles of at home in the “guest bathroom” from when Lexi was using it. I do not mention that, though, and pay. Joyce puts Alex down for an appointment in two weeks at his old Thursday time and we go out to the car to head home.
Just as I get ready to start the car, my phone beeps to signal I got a text. I check it quickly and smile. I look at Alex and nearly drop the phone when I see him push his hair behind his ear like I would have expected Lexi to do. I bite my lip and say, “That was April. It is such a beautiful day that Jewel is going for a nice run and would like you to go along. I just so happen to have a gym bag with your workout clothes in the trunk, so we’ll take a detour over there!”
This time he does groan as he pushes his hair behind his ear again.
ALEX
I pull down the sun visor and slide open the little door over the mirror. The surrounding LED light comes on as I look at myself and I am still stunned by the way I look with my hair like this. I swivel my head back and forth and take in the details of the ponytail. It is higher and much tighter than I am used to and little loose stray strands of hair tickle my neck as it bounces around. I will have to experiment to see how low and loose I can get it but fact one is that I am afraid this may be the best I can get or Joyce would not have done it this way. Fact two, this long section of my bangs is very frustrating and will not stay behind my ear. Frustrated, I push it behind my ear, again. Hypothesis one, it may be better to ask her to cut the bangs straight and out of my eyes. Hypothesis two, that would likely look dorky.
I don’t say anything about going to Dr. Quack’s for ‘my’ run. I know it will not do any good to argue with Momma about it. My only chance is to reason with this ‘Jewel’ and hope that she will see the truth. The fact is that I am very likely to have a heart attack if I go out running.
Momma weaves through the still light early Saturday morning traffic and into a nice subdivision not too far from where we live. I have this odd feeling that I have been here before. I start to ask Momma if we had maybe looked at houses here once, or something, when she pulls the car into a driveway that leads up to a nice house. That crazy feeling of deja-vu hits me again with a quick flash of something intangible and tantalizingly close to the surface of my conscious memories.
Momma gets out of the car and goes around to the trunk. I slowly get out of the car and walk around the path to the back door in a sort of daze. Without knocking or thinking, I open the door and enter the kitchen. Apri… Dr. Smythe is standing there with a surprised look on her face and says, “Well, hello, Alex. Welcome. JuJu is looking forward to running with you.”
I feel one of my headaches coming on. That fact alone lets me know something stressful is going on in my head. That is when they come on the worst. I have another one of those ‘feelings’ that I know this place—that I have been here before. But I have no conscious memory of it whatsoever. I look at April and whisper in a confused tone, “Up the stairs and third door on the left.”
She gets a shocked look on her face and says in a soothing voice, “That’s right, Alex. Do you remember having been here before?”
I shake my head. It is hurting more and more and the motion makes it worse. The fact is I feel like I am going to throw up—or pass out, one. I start to see black specks in front of my eyes. At that moment, Momma comes storming through the door and exclaims, “Alexander James Jorden! You don’t just…” She stops mid-sentence when she sees April reach out to stop me from collapsing on the floor. She hurries over and helps her get me to a chair and asks, “What is going on? Alex, are you OK?”
April goes to the refrigerator and gets a Dr. Pepper out and opens it. She says, “I know you want him to drink diet ones, but I think his blood sugar is low and this certainly has enough sugar in it for an army!” She pours some in a glass and holds it to my lips. I feel weak, dizzy, and light-headed. My head is pounding and I can hardly focus. I take a sip of the Nectar of the Gods and it tastes good—I focus on the taste and take another sip. My head starts to clear as I sit there and sip the sugary-sweet drink. After a few minutes, my headache starts to lessen and Momma and Apr…Dr. Quack are still looking at me with the concern clearly outlined on their faces.
I take a deep breath and say, “I’m feeling better. I still have a slight headache, but it’s going away.”
Momma sighs and asks, “What were you thinking just barging in here?”
Dr. Quack interjects, “Alex remembered where Jewel’s room is.”
Momma gasps and looks at me, “Is that true, Alex? You remember having been here before? Like at the salon? You remember JuJ…Jewel?”
I shake my head and relish that it does not pound in a sickening manner. I still do not understand what just happened and explain, “No, I don’t remember anything. It is more like a feeling, like a dream or something, where I just know the answer. It’s all frustrating with this intangible feeling of something lurking just below the surface of my consciousness. But…wait! Let me get this straight. Fact one, Apr…Dr. Smythe insinuated that I had been here before. Fact two, you did the same just now. Fact three, in addition, you just insinuated that I know this Jewel. Is that true? Have I been here before? Do I know Jewel, Momma?”
Momma opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. Dr. Quack has her finger pressed against her mouth in thought and does not respond. I swivel my head as I hear a somehow familiar girl’s voice from behind me say, “Hello, Alex. It’s really nice to see you again. You, too, Maddie. It’s been a long time.”
Broken! - Chapter 3
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(All images and artwork are property of and copyrighted by Shauna J. Rousseau.)
JEWEL
I am stretching and waiting for Lex…Alex to arrive. My feelings are caught up in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. On the one hand, I really want to get together with Lexi, but I know I obviously cannot since it will be Alex. On the other hand, I am not sure how hard it is going to be interacting with Alex, knowing that he was…is?...my best friend, Lexi.
I hear Lexi talking downstairs and quietly descend the stairs to the bottom step where I can peek into the kitchen. She is in a chair facing away from me. I listen in for a minute without revealing myself and that is when it really hits me that even though it is Lexi’s voice that I am hearing, it is not Lexi; not really. Then I cannot help but smile when I hear…him…call his mother, ‘Momma’. That is something that Lexi picked up from me—something I am not even sure that Momma or Maddie have picked up on. Lexi is still in there—I just know it!
I decide it is time to make an entrance. It is going to be hard pretending it has been Alex that I have known for the last two years and not Lexi. Well, the year before her…his coma. I have not seen him since he woke up as Alex with no recollection of Lexi. As Lexi, we became best friends almost overnight and I still miss my best friend. I have talked to Momma about how to handle this and, even though she is a psychiatrist, she does not have all the answers either. I am just going to have to rely on the empathy and ‘EQ’ that she says I am so full of. I will have to feel my way through Lexi/Alex’s emotions.
I enter the kitchen and in a low voice announce myself. The conflicted look on Lex…Alex’s face melts my heart. Of course, it takes a minute for it to start beating again when I see how out of shape…he…has gotten. But I want to hug…her…for getting the hairstyle she so long wanted. What I do not know is if that is something that ‘Alex’ asked for. All that is missing now is pierced ears and Lexi would be in heaven. Well and female hormones…
ALEX
When I get turned around towards the stairs and see the girl standing there, I get another ‘flash’. Something almost comes to the surface and I am just about to grasp it when I shrink back. Another overwhelming memory comes flooding in and overshadows whatever was almost there. It is of a cowboy boot, specifically the tall, hard heel, coming down on my face. My head splits open with another headache and I moan as I slump in the chair as I cover my head with my arms. I cringe as I keep ‘seeing’ and ‘feeling’ the boot come down on my head over and over and I hear a voice, my father’s voice, saying, “I’ll teach you to listen to me. You will get those stupid ideas out of your head! You are my son, do you hear me? Do you? Answer me!
Thankfully, this time I do pass out.
When I come to, I am lying on the couch and Jewel is sitting there holding my hand. Momma and April are in the kitchen and Momma is talking on the phone, “…out cold. Send… Wait, he just came to. Alex, Hon, do you know where you are? Who I am?”
Afraid to move my head, I barely whisper, “Yes.” Jewel relays the message and April takes the phone from her and continues talking to whoever is on the other end. I leave my hand in Jewel’s and wonder at how comforting it actually is. I take my other hand and explore my face, fully expecting it to be bloody and swollen. The flash of whatever it was, was so real—but the actual memory is already fading again. My face feels fine and I try to sit up.
Momma comes over and gently pushes me back down. She asks with clear concern in her voice, “Alex, Hon. What happened. Are you feeling OK?”
I trust that my head will not explode if I move it and am proven right when I nod. I say in a stronger voice than I figured would come out, “I had this…vision…of a cowboy boot stomping my face and I heard…Daddy’s…voice berating me about something…that I was his son, or something. To be honest, I am surprised I remember that much. It has already nearly fully faded and is very foggy.”
April comes in and says, “I called off the ambulance. This seems like it is more in my territory now, anyway. She trades places with Jewel and sits right next to me. I try and sit up again and she gently pushes me back down like Momma did. “Stay laying down for a bit, please. OK? I just want to be sure you don’t have any more episodes,” she continues. “Can you tell me what triggered this ‘vision’? Do you remember?”
I scrunch up my face in concentration as if that would help. I start to feel the headache come back as I do so. Finally, I give up and say, “No. Not really. I remember Jewel coming in and having that…feeling…again. Like I was about to remember something. Something good, I think. Then…it hit me. Did…did…did that really happen? Is that how I got into the coma? Like I said, I don’t really even clearly remember the vision by now, but I do vividly remember the terror it caused. It’s a lot like when I wake up from my nightmares.”
She looks pensive and nods her head as she squeezes my hand. After a thoughtful minute, she says, “I know it doesn’t feel like it, but I think this is actually a good sign, Alex. Your memories are making a more concerted effort at coming back. You and your Momma can talk about specifics later if you wish, but, yes, like the salon today, you have been here before. You and JuJu used to be good friends before your coma. I thought it better to slowly reintroduce you to her in order to not overwhelm you. It seemed like as good a time as any after our discussions at the office. Maybe I was wrong…”
OK, fact one, she is creeping me out making sense and not seeming like Dr. Quack. Fact two, I like her better in this light. I sigh, “No, this has been terrifying and literally very painful. But scary as it is, I’m starting to see some cracks in whatever is veiling my memories—at least the ones I hope are good. The bad ones are certainly welcome to stay buried! It’s kind of like an occasional ray of sunshine peeking through the fog.”
I look at Jewel and for the life of me I cannot remember her. I do still have that feeling that I know her, though, and it somehow soothes me just being around her. That fact is very disconcerting but somehow comforting at the same time.
JEWEL
I smile at Alex. What he just said sounded more like Lexi and less like Alex but it is clear that it was still Alex talking. I can also tell he is confused. I wish there was something that I could do to help.
I sigh, “Alex, maybe going for a run is not the best idea right now. But how about we just go for a walk? Maybe the fresh air would do you good and I would like to get to know my friend again. A lot has happened since we were last able to talk. If you like, when we’re done—and our Momma’s are OK with it—maybe you could spend the night for old time’s sake?”
Momma jumps in, “Let’s cross that bridge in a bit, JuJu. Alex is certainly more than welcome to spend the night—we have plenty of room—but we can’t push him too far in one day. I do agree that maybe a walk would be good, though. What do you think, Alex? Are you up for it? You can change upstairs in the guestroom next to JuJu’s room.”
He gets that funny look on his face when Momma keeps calling me ‘JuJu’. Lexi actually came up with that and it stuck as my pet name. I think it struck a chord, but he again does not know why. I cannot help but wonder if Momma did that on purpose or if she was just trying to be relaxed.
He looks at Maddie and she smiles and nods her head in encouragement. He sighs and says, “Sure. A walk sounds fine—as long as we take it slow. I think everyone here knows by now that I’m not in great shape. I don’t even remember ever being in good shape…”
I take his hand and Momma lets him up. I lead him up the stairs and say, “You used to be in great shape. We would go running together all the time—among other things. I would love it if we could get back to doing that together.”
He follows me in a sort of trance-like state and I gently push him into the guestroom that is next to my room. That is where he will sleep if/when he spends the night—as opposed to Lexi who would have slept in my room with me. If he does wind up spending the night, I am actually not sure what we will do… Pajama party-style events like mani-pedis and doing each other’s makeup will not cut it. I sort of spoke up without thinking. Thankfully, Momma slowed my roll!
APRIL
I watch my daughter lead her former best friend up the stairs by the hand. My heart clinches for both of their losses. But, as bad as all of this has seemed today, it really is encouraging.
I look at Maddie and muse, “I think I caught that right? Alex remembered the salon?”
Maddie shakes her head and says, “Like he said, yes and no. It was like he knew it, but he had no recollection of it. It’s all so weird!”
I sigh, “I know what just happened was scary, Maddie, but this is really encouraging. I have long assumed that Alex’s nightmares have been his demons fighting his angels, if you will. I think that was just confirmed when he said seeing JuJu started to trigger something that seemed nice but was then overshadowed by his father’s abuse and attempts to exorcise Lexi. The fact that this happened in broad daylight with Alex fully awake—even if it was just fleeting—is a good sign. Don’t get me wrong, we are nowhere near out of the woods yet and Alex still has a very rough road ahead of him, I’m afraid. The million-dollar question still is, who will emerge from the woods…?”
Maddie wipes the tears from her eyes and sighs, “It just tears my heart apart to have my child go through this because of that bastard that I once loved very much. I just can’t believe he would do that to anyone, but especially not to his own child!” She takes a shaky breath and asks, “What do you think of JuJu’s idea of spending the night?”
I giggle, “I think she got ahead of herself. Of course, Alex can’t sleep in her room with her and what would they really do? But, if they’re still both game after their walk, then I won’t stand in the way.”
Maddie smiles and nods, “I sort of thought the same thing. Do you mind if I go home and take care of some things while they walk? You can just text me when I need to come pick him up—or bring pajamas.” She actually giggles. The first one I have heard in quite some time. Maybe there is some light at the end of this tunnel…
I nod and say, “Of course, I don’t mind! Go! I will feed them lunch when they get back and we’ll see where it goes from there.”
I nod towards the stairs in warning as I see them descending and say, “Don’t you look ready to enjoy the day, Alex! Those are nice workout clothes and check out those shoes!”
ALEX
It is all so surreal. I know this hallway but I can’t remember why. Jewel…JuJu? Why does ‘JuJu’ sound so familiar…no, so personal, like I had something to do with it? She pushes me into the room that is next to hers and somehow I know that this is ‘wrong’, that I should be going into hers.
I pull the exercise clothes out of the gym bag that Momma had pushed into my hand as we were ascending the stairs. I shake my head at the quandary of the rooms. This room does not feel ‘familiar’, but I could almost describe hers—like it is on the tip of my memories. Was I her boyfriend? That would not make sense, we would barely have been twelve back then and I can’t see Momma condoning anything like that.
I undress and put on the workout clothes. I grimace at the running shoes. They are a bit on the wild side, but they are the right size. The fact is that is always something of a challenge with my small feet—I am still a guy’s size four and these are actually a girl’s size five-and-a-half. Momma has small feet and I must get that from her—she is only like a shoe size bigger than me. While these fit perfectly, they were not my first choice of styles. They are really colorful and splashy. They also do not seem overly ‘manly’, but they were what was available in my size and they are still better than the boy’s options that I could have chosen from. I finish tying them and neatly fold my clothes and put them in the bag.
I look in the large mirror on the backside of the closet door and shrug. I am not sure what to make of myself. Fact one, the clothes themselves are the usual guy’s workout stuff. Fact two, I look like a fat blob in them. Fact three, my face, hair, and shoes seem off—like they do not fit the overall image the clothes normally would portray. Maybe this whole ‘appearance’ thing is getting to me—the incongruence bothers me. I just cannot say that I believe that losing the fat will make that incongruence go away. The problem is, I am not sure why it seems the clothes are somehow…wrong…
I hear Jewel knock on the door and ask, “Alex, are you OK?”
I sigh and say, “Yes, I’ll be right there!” I close the closet door and go out into the hall to find her waiting just outside the door. I smile wanly and say, “Just psyching myself up for ‘exercise’.”
She smiles and says, “Nice shoes! Let’s go!”
I blush as we descend the stairs only to have April tag onto the humiliation. She laughs at the look on my face and says, “Look you two, Maddie has some things to take care of, so you go on your walk. JuJu, you know the rules on safety and where you are allowed to go—and where not. Alex, I have discouraged your Momma from discussing too much of your past because I didn’t want to stress you or somehow make you think that you were remembering things you weren’t. I know that has been stressful in and of itself, but I think you’re ready to have a few questions answered.”
She looks pointedly at Jewel and I can tell some sort of unspoken communication is happening as she says, “JuJu, I trust you to know what questions to answer that Alex may have of his former very good friend. I can trust you, right?”
Jewel nods and April looks at me, “And Alex, I trust you won’t push JuJu into an uncomfortable corner, OK? It’s up to her what she answers and where she draws the line. Maybe, just maybe, this will open up that fog a little bit more and let the sunlight stream in a little brighter. I just want it to be the sun and not a fake light. We can’t force the sun. Does that make sense?”
I look at her and want to say something smart back at her, but the thing is that it does make a weird sort of sense. I say, “Yes, April, it does and…” I realize what I just said and blush. I correct myself, “I’m sorry, I meant, Dr. Smythe. I…”
She cuts me off with a fierce hug and says, “No, it’s fine if you call me April, Hon. You used to all the time. I was just waiting for you to feel comfortable enough to do so, again.”
I am stunned. I had not even realized that I had somehow gotten comfortable with it. But as I think about it, I realize that it is less that I had gotten comfortable with it but had just slipped back into something that felt right…like my comfy clothes. The ones Momma had gotten rid of…
I smile and hug her back. I say, “OK, April, I promise to not push. I can’t promise to not want to, though.”
She finishes her hug and says, “Fair enough. Now, all of you—scoot! I’ll phone or text, Maddie.”
Momma hugs April and says, “Thanks! You’re a life saver!” She whispers something else in her ear that I cannot hear, but April blushes at whatever it is. She smiles and whispers something back and it is Momma’s turn to blush. I really do not know what to make of it and I can tell that Jewel is as clueless as I am.
When they are done whispering, Jewel and I follow Momma out the back door. I watch her get in the car and drive off, then I follow Jewel down the driveway and to a park that is once again something I know but cannot remember.
JEWEL
I quietly lead Alex through the park and to the trailhead. Our city is in the mountains and has an extensive walking, hiking, and bike trail system. Large sections are rated as safe for children to use during the day because of the activity. Those are the sections we are allowed to use.
Once we get on the actual trail, I take off at a moderate pace up the slope. I look at Alex and say, “Tell me if we need to slow down—or speed up!” I grin.
He says, “Likely! This is OK for now. I really do want to get into better shape. I can’t really explain why I have gotten into this shape or have just otherwise let myself go. Getting my hair cut today was an experience. I had forgotten what it was like for it to actually feel nice. I’m not sure about this style, but at least it’s clean and taken care of.”
I giggle and say, “I think it looks very nice, Alex. I can remember a time when a style like that is all you would talk about. So, you didn’t ask for it?”
He shakes his head and says, “No, but it seemed like Joyce was driven in a certain direction. I guess she would have known about my…former…wishes. She just said it was cutting-edge for a boy. To be honest, I can’t really say I like it—any more than I can say I dislike it. I absolutely have no recollection of wanting it. I certainly wouldn’t have asked for it. As a matter of fact, I was going to ask for it to all be buzzed off. But, now at least I know why it isn’t bothering me more than I would have thought it would.”
I look over and picture it loose and hanging down in the manner that Lexi would wear it and ask, “So, you’re going to leave it?”
He laughs—almost giggles—and says, “Well, I guess I’m stuck with it for the next two weeks until my next appointment—unless I buzz cut it myself.”
I pale and exclaim, “You wouldn’t! Would you…?”
He laughs again and I get the feeling that is something almost foreign to him anymore, which is a sad comparison to the once happy-go-lucky Lexi. He shakes his head and says, “No… I’m wise enough to not chance the ire of my Momma! You know us Irish red heads! I’ll give it a chance and see how it feels in two weeks. I can always get Joyce to shorten it—it’s just hair. The main thing I’m worried about is school on Monday. There’s this girl, a ‘mean girl’ as your Momma calls her. I just call her a bully. She will have a hay day with this. She’s the whole impetus for this ‘appearance’ thing, but the fact is I’m fairly confident the hairstyle will backfire on me. Cutting-edge for a boy is code for mean-girl fodder in my estimation.”
Mean girls—how I hate them! But they usually pick on other girls. I wonder if this one somehow picks up on ‘Lexi’. I press a little further, “Why do you think that? What does she have against you?”
He walks a little in silence, then finally says, “I honestly don’t know how it all started. After I came out of my coma, I didn’t go to school for a while—I just studied at home. It wasn’t hard, since I was way ahead of my grade-level anyway. When I went back, Momma thought it would be best to start somewhere else…fresh… Someplace I wouldn’t continuously strain to try and remember and stress over. By then, I had already gained most of this weight and she just sort of latched onto me from day one. She mostly makes fun of my gynecomastia and that I should wear a bra. Now, with the hair…”
He drops the sentence and seems worried. I feel his pain and think about it. A somewhat obvious solution comes to mind. I ask, “What if you did?”
He stops dead in his tracks and looks at me. He gives me a very intelligent response, “Huh?”
I stop and say, “I’m serious! We could put you in a sports bra that wouldn’t be visible—unless you want it to be, of course. That just sort of depends on how bold and in her face you want to be. We could either compress your…”
He resignedly adds, “Man-boobs…”
I continue, “Your ‘man-boobs’ down—or we could boldly show that you don’t take her seriously and have the bra show. Sort of in her face, you know. It all depends on your level of confidence and whether you want to let her bully you.”
He gives me a strange look and starts walking fast up the hill as if trying to outrun the thoughts. Finally, more than slightly out of breath, he huffs, “I think you’re crazy. The fact is that couldn’t work…” After a few seconds and major panting, he wheezes, “Could it?”
I say, “Trust me, I know mean girls and have to deal with them all of the time. I go to a private school and well over half of the girls there qualify. My skin got toughened up a long time ago. I learned the best way to take the wind out of their sails is to mock them in a way they don’t get. Like in your case…if they mock you with the taunt of wearing a bra. Mock them back by wearing one. They will of course escalate and you will have to escalate back. It becomes a bit of a game of chicken, but so far, I have always won. I can’t say it’s the best course of action for you to actually wear a bra, or not, but it would certainly throw that girl for a loop, I guarantee it!”
He actually giggles and says, “Her and a lot of others at school. I don’t know if I could pull that off, Jewel. Let me think about it.”
I decide it is time to push a little harder, so I nod then make a fake pouting face and say, “You know, you used to call me ‘JuJu’. Actually, you’re the one that came up with it and it stuck.”
He looks at me in surprise, “I did? And…I did?”
I giggle, “Yes and yes. I was pushing Momma to let me join a dojo and learn Jiu Jitsu. I kept pushing and pushing and you started calling me Jiu Jewel. That morphed into JuJu and I actually thought it was kind of cute. So, did Momma, unfortunately.”
He grins and asks, “So, what happened with Jiu Jitsu? It sounds like fun and a great way to get rid of frustrations!”
She shakes her head and says, “I never could convince her, but if you’re willing to go maybe we can change her mind!”
He ponders and asks, “I didn’t want to go before?”
I laugh and say, “Well…no… You were too worried about certain details of your appearance…” ‘Like breaking a nail’, I mentally add.
He gives me funny look then grins, “Oh…I didn’t want to get bruised? I guess I’m over that, now. Bruises are no big deal to me after…”
I grab his hand and squeeze it. I say, “Something like that. Look, I don’t want to force you into anything…”
He grins, “You aren’t. I mean it, it sounds like fun, JuJu!”
ALEX
We walk in silence for a bit. The fact is that I am doing my best to just breathe on this steeper section of the path. We finally come out at a clearing that has an overlook of the mountains and sitting there, all rusty and covered in weeds, is an old junk car. I stop dead in my tracks and wheeze, trying to catch my breath. The view of the mountains is awesome, but all I can think of is the broken-down car that is just sitting there. It is just like me—a shell of its former self. It is beaten up and missing the vital parts that make it go. I am not sure that it could be fixed if someone were to try. It certainly would take a lot of effort and a lot of parts. I shake my head in exasperation.
JuJu takes my hand and squeezes it. She softly asks, “Penny for your thoughts?”
I sigh and nod towards the car. I ask, “Is that a sign? It’s just like me. All beaten up and broken. I think it’s beyond repair. What if I never get my memories back, JuJu?”
It is her turn to sigh. She takes my shoulders and gently turns me towards her. She looks me straight in the eye and softly, but emphatically says, “I really believe you will get your memories back, Alex. But, if you don’t, we will simply have to make new ones. OK?”
I fight the tears that want to form in my eyes and visibly shake at the effort. I know better than to tempt the boots. JuJu just pulls me into a hug and we silently stand there for several minutes.
Finally, I nod and we start the descent back to her house.
On the way down, she looks over at me and says, “Alex, Hon, I really do love your hair. Please don’t do anything drastic?”
I sigh and say, “Well, the bangs are driving me crazy, to be honest. Why would I ever have wanted this style?”
She giggles and says, “Well, you just fell in love with the look. What can I say? I can show you some tricks on how to deal with the bangs. It won’t take you too long to get used to them. I remember when I first got mine. I hope Joyce gave you the proper products to take proper care of your hair? I am glad you are taking that seriously, again.”
I nod.
She continues, “But what about your skin? Did she talk to you about that, too? I don’t see any oiliness yet, but if that starts you’re going to start getting pimples if you don’t take care of it. You don’t want acne scars, right? You used to be really paranoid about that!”
I look over at her and almost trip over a root. I stop and say, “I haven’t really thought about it, JuJu. It’s not really something most guys typically think about. I guess I used to think differently…” I start getting a headache when I concentrate on what she is saying and quickly stop before the boots start raining down on my head again.
JuJu does not relent, though, and huffs, “Bull! Only guys that want people to think they’re all macho pretend like they don’t care. When we get home, I will be showing you how to take care of your skin. I bet your Momma still has your old products—you used to be very particular about your skin, as well as your hair. Maybe getting back into those routines will help spark some memories?”
I sigh. All of this is really overwhelming. It is like I used to be some completely different person! I shake my head and continue down the hill. I decide to change the subject as I wipe the sweat from my brow, “Maybe. Could be. I don’t really know… So, about Jui Jitsu…”
Broken! - Chapter 4
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(All images and artwork are property of and copyrighted by Shauna J. Rousseau.)
APRIL
I smell a rat. They had returned from a two-hour walk and a very sweaty Alex pitched this ‘new’ idea while I serve them lunch. “Jiu Jitsu? Really, Alex? That is how you want to get in shape? And how did you come to this realization,” I ask suspiciously.
He looks a little like a deer in the headlights when he says, “Well… OK, fact is that I found out about how JuJu got her pet name and that it was me and all… Well, and I figured that since I came up with it, I must have this deep-seated desire to learn it?”
I give him a look.
He shakes his head and does something between a snicker and a giggle. His eyes are twinkling now when he says, “Well, to be honest, April, it does sound like it could be fun to learn it with JuJu.” I start to break in when he adds in a dead-serious tone, “And maybe if I had known it when Daddy beat me it could have changed things. I mean I know deep down it wouldn’t have, but I want to at least feel like I’m as prepared as I can be to protect myself in the future.”
Well…damn! How do I counter that? I still smell a sweaty rat, but one with perfume on it. I sigh, “Well, it’s ultimately up to your Momma. If she’s onboard, then I guess I can’t argue—but you both have to stick with it and move through belts at record pace, so I know you’re truly committed. Deal?”
JuJu is literally jumping up and down and nodding vigorously. Alex just says, “Deal!” Then he gives me a strange look and asks, “So, April, can I ask you a strange question…it’s sort of personal for me and professional for you…”
I can’t even begin to think what may be coming next, but I put on my most encouraging face and voice and urge him, “Of course, Hon. What’s on your mind? Do you want to talk in private?”
He shakes his head and sort of gives JuJu a lopsided grin. He sighs, “Well, JuJu and I were discussing my issue with ‘The Monster’ and I’m slowly getting onboard with your idea that I need to get myself back into shape to boost my self-confidence. Fact is, at first, I thought it was bovine feces but I do now think it definitely has merit. Sorry, April. Anyway, she keeps harping about my gynecomastia…my…man-boobs. So, let’s hypothesize that your plan to get me in shape works and I’m successful by becoming a black-belt in Jiu Jitsu in record time.” He gives me a shit-eating grin and continues, “So, I ooze self-confidence and I’m in top shape months to years from now. That’s not going to help for months or years.”
I hate to say it, but I see his point. I am still not sure where this is headed, so I relent, “OK, I see your point. I assume this is going somewhere?”
He actually looks embarrassed when he says—or asks, “Should I…” His voice lowers in volume but increases in pitch to a high squeak, “wear a bra to school?”
I sit down in amazement and put my head in my hands. Where did he get that idea? Then I look at JuJu and growl, “Cynthia Antoinette Smythe, is this your doing? I thought I could trust you!” I look at Alex and try to find a way out of this train wreck. I measure my tone as I ask, “Aside from my daughter’s misguided influence, why would you think this is a good idea?”
He sits down, too, and grabs JuJu’s hand in support—or for support; I am not sure. Either way, it is sweet and I want to cry just at that. He says, “Please don’t blame JuJu, April! Yes, she brought it up at first and, like you, I thought it was totally…crazy… Then she explained her thought process and urged me to forget it—she mused that just because the process works for her doesn’t mean it would work for me. I couldn’t forget it, though, because my hypothesis is that she may be right. I went through several possible scenarios in my head and kept coming back to the conclusion that best case it would take at least months to get past just this one issue.”
I have a hard time coming up with something—anything—to counter this without opening the whole world of ‘Lexi’ and with that a million cans of worms. I cannot do that… Not yet. I have to buy some time and see if he opens an opportunity to shut this down. I just have a really bad feeling… I counter, “So, wearing a bra to school may throw her off her game for a split second. Then she finds something new—say piercing your ears or wearing makeup. Are you willing to do that, too? Look, I get the strategy. I taught it to JuJu and it works for girls fighting mean girls, but you’re not a girl, right? Yes, the basic strategy should work against any bully, but this is…unconventional...to say the least.”
He looks me straight in the eye and says, “This hairstyle is unconventional. I have no idea why I may have wanted this in the past. I’m willing to let that play out—and get a buzz cut later, if need be. It’s strange that you mention pierced ears. Momma mentioned something at the mall last night about me wanting to get my ears pierced before my coma. I can’t imagine that, but it also feels somehow…right. Makeup? Maybe not, but necessity makes for strange bedfellows, so who knows?”
He gives me a penetrating stare and I actually find a thirteen-year-old making me sweat. He asks, “Let me ask you this, April. Why do you think this is such a bad idea? Humiliation? Is this any more humiliating than what I’m currently being subjected to? I think not. So, fact is…there must be something else. What is it?”
At that point, I do the purely professional thing. I punt! I say, “OK, look. You two eat! Then hit the showers! I need to talk to your Momma, Alex. Then, later, I will be talking to Jewel.”
MADDIE
“He wants to do what,” I exclaim incredulously. I am not sure I heard April right. We are video-chatting and she is sitting on the swing on her front porch.
She says with a red face, “I’m sorry, Maddie. I thought Alex was ready for this step. I still think he is. I’m not so sure about JuJu, though.” I shake my head and say, “Look, I know my child. Lexi or Alex—no one is going to make him/her do something he/she doesn’t think is right. But a bra? Could this work?” She sighs, “Under normal circumstances, I would say it is a bold solution with a high chance of success—with caveats. But this is clearly not a normal circumstance. I’m highly concerned about what cans of worms we may be opening with this ‘solution’. Especially after today.”
I pause and then ask, “So, bottom line. Is it dangerous?”
It is her time to take a pause. She finally says, “To be honest, I don’t know, Love. There are definite risks after I saw what happened today. There could be benefits, too. I just don’t know. Again, under the best of circumstances, I would urge extreme caution and not be inclined to endorse this. In this case, I double that, but I just don’t know if it could actually…help…or be totally devastating.”
I do not say a word. I am not sure what to say, yet.
She continues, “If we are going to do this…”
She trails off without finishing the sentence out loud and I finally say, “Look, Love, I totally understand that you have concerns, but I trust you completely when it comes to my child’s welfare. I mean, soon enough, it will be our child’s welfare. Let’s just go with we are going to do this…what are you thinking?”
She blushes and says, “I think, in that case, we have to let JuJu and Alex try this out privately in JuJu’s room. If Alex makes it past just getting the bra on without an episode, we will have made significant progress based on what I’ve seen today. I have very little confidence that will happen, though. I’m afraid that he will succumb to the terror of his beating—just like has already happened today. Are we willing to risk that twice in one day? Look, Love, I’m the professional, but I’m too close to this. Maybe we really need to find another psychiatrist for Alex.”
I feel my face turn red and exclaim, “Bullshit, Hon! I told you that I trust you. I know I got burned with Jeremy. Why would you do that to me or my child? I can’t believe it. Call me naïve. Anyway, I know that it goes against ‘convention’, but I don’t want Alex—or Lexi—in anyone else’s care! Now, how are we going to handle this? Because I know my child…our children…won’t let this drop.”
I see her smile. She says, “I love you, too, Sweetheart. So, if we are going to go through with this farce, I suggest we let Alex ‘practice’ in JuJu’s room with me ready to jump in when it goes south. I don’t really know what we will do if it doesn’t. I twice don’t know what we’ll do if it does, since, knowing Alex, that won’t stop him.”
I nod and offer, “OK, do you want me to come over?” I want to be there when it goes completely wrong. How can I even consider this? But what if this is the right thing to do? I’m just so confused! She shakes her head and says, “I think it’s best to just let this play out like Alex wants. That puts the least amount of stress on him. If you’re here that just adds extra stress that I don’t think is worth the price.” I relent, “OK, Love. Let me know how this goes… I assume you’re going to have a talk with JuJu. Go easy on her, Love. This wasn’t malicious.”
She smiles again wanly and nods. Then she says, “We will talk. Malicious or not, she needs to understand that she can’t force Lexi to come back to us. She may just wind up with a brother. Not what she may have envisioned, but… She’s not giving up on pulling out those memories, though. She is up there showing him how to do proper skin care and he is going along with it—almost with as much enthusiasm as Lexi. I hope you still have her products squirreled away? I’m praying this doesn’t cause another episode all by itself. Heavens knows she isn’t giving up on her quest!”
I nod and say, “Yeah, like I said. They won’t give up. And, yes, I have Lexi’s old products in the ‘guest’ bathroom. You think he will start using them?” She just shrugs and says, “Encourage him if this doesn’t cause an episode. The more old routines he voluntarily gets into without issues the better the chances of them triggering his memories. It all depends on how much he associates the activities with girls and with that his father’s disapproval as to whether the memories triggered are good or bad.” Then she gets this shit-eating grin on her face and asks, “Oh, I assume you’re OK with our kids going to Jiu Jitsu?”
I nearly drop my sandwich and exclaim, “What?” She blows me a kiss and says, “Gotta go, Hon. I’ll let you know how it goes with the skincare and the bra.” I stare at the blank screen as she ends the call.
I may cuss just a little.
ALEX
I finish rubbing the lotion into my body after the grueling face-scrubbing and moisturizing session JuJu put me through. I smell the scent of the lotion and it vaguely reminds me of flowers. I marvel at how much better my body feels after washing off the sweat and getting some moisture back into my skin. I sigh and smile, then start to get a strong headache. I shake my head and tie the white terrycloth robe that JuJu loaned me. I do my best to ignore the pressure in my head and leave the guestroom to go into her room.
I move to stand in front of her bed after she makes a big deal about how much better my skin looks. I continue to ignore the mounting pressure in my head and look at the lacy bra she has laid out on the bed. She sees me stare at it and apologizes with chagrin, “I’m sorry, Alex. All my sports bras are dirty. I can wash one, but…”
I shake my head and say, “For this, it doesn’t matter. There is no way I would wear that to school—not that a sports bra is a better option.” I square my shoulders and ask in a resigned tone, “OK, so how does this work?”
She giggles and says, “Well, you’ll need to take off your robe…”
I blush and say, “OK. I can do that back in the bathroom. Then what?”
She looks at me seriously and says, “The easiest way is to wrap it around you, hook it in front, spin it around, and put your arms through the straps. It will need to be adjusted after that. Of course, it is a B-cup and I don’t think you’re there… I can…help…with that if you want.”
I am honestly at a loss at what she means.
She shrugs and pulls these jiggly things out of a drawer that look a lot like rubber chicken breasts. She motions that they go inside her bra. A bright light goes on and my face turns just as bright—only red. I laugh and say, “I don’t think so, JuJu. I shouldn’t need that with a sports bra, right?”
She giggles, “Well, maybe not, but this is not a sports bra! It has sophistication and class. You can’t leave it…deflated… It will get a complex.”
I blush even more and say, “Forget it, JuJu.”
I go back into the bathroom and take off the robe. I once again let my mind marvel at how much better my face and body feel after a proper cleansing with a luffa sponge and a generous application of lotion. I explore why the thought of doing that seems right but scares me at the same time. The headache once again increases to the point of bringing tears to my eyes and I start to see black spots, so I quickly stop thinking about it and focus on the bra.
I follow JuJu’s instructions and get the bra situated after clasping it in front of me, twisting it around, and putting my arms through the straps. I look in the mirror and am extremely proud of myself for actually accomplishing the feat but wondering why I feel like I should have—could have easily—put it on differently.
And that is when my head does split open and the boots rain down…again.
APRIL
“Momma! Come quick,” I hear JuJu exclaim from upstairs. Fearing the worst, I run up the stairs and see my frantic daughter cradling Alex’s head in her bathroom. He is out cold and jerking wildly. I cannot tell if it is a seizure or something else.
I rush over and ask, “What triggered it?” I notice he has a bra on and no shirt. One of JuJu’s robes is draped over the sink.
She shakes her head and wails, “I don’t know. He did OK with the skincare, then went back in to put the bra on. He had the door closed and I heard him cry out and then the sound of him hitting the floor. I barged in and found him like this.”
I give his head a quick examination and do not find any blood. I mutter, “I think it is another episode likely triggered by the bra. I was afraid of this. This nonsense will stop this instant. Help me get him to your bed.”
We, well mostly I, carry him to the bed and gently lay him down on it. I notice that he smells vaguely of JuJu’s body lotion and hair products. I unclasp the bra and remove it, then I cover him with the sheet. I gently rub his forehead and notice his skin is well-moisturized. I say in a soothing voice, “Alex, it’s alright. Your father isn’t here. He can’t hurt you. It’s just a bad dream. Wake up, Sweetheart.”
He continues to thrash around and cry out, but my efforts seem to be having an effect in calming him down. After a few minutes of soothing talk, he opens his eyes and I do not think I have ever seen that much terror in a child’s eyes before. I have seen children wake up from nightmares before with abject fear in their eyes from imaginary threats, but this is at the deepest level of PTSD that I have ever witnessed, including in the most hardened of combat soldiers.
He shrinks back, not immediately recognizing me, but I gently pull him into a hug and whisper, “It’s OK, Hon. You’re in JuJu’s bed and he wasn’t really hitting you.” I have no real idea if that is what was going on in his mind, but it is my best guess.
He whimpers a second and says in a hoarse whisper, “It was him again. He just kept kicking me and yelling that I better not keep listening to that quack and that I am his son and I better listen to him.” Tears are starting to form in his eyes and he tenses up.
I stroke his now disheveled hair and say, “It’s OK to cry, Alex. He can’t hurt you. Only you can by letting him win. You are the bravest little boy I know, and you can beat this. We can all beat this together. I promise.”
I cannot say that I am overjoyed about the reasons for him now quietly crying on my shoulder, but I can say I am overjoyed that he is. This is a huge breakthrough. And while I am still going to kill my daughter for starting this whole thing, I will have to say we probably lucked out in the end. This still doesn’t change my mind about shock therapy, though. It is cruel and while it may take a little longer to get results otherwise, the ends do not justify the means.
I continue stroking his hair and say to JuJu, “First, go and get a Dr. Pepper and bring it up. Second, call your Aunt Maddie and let her know what happened. This is on you, Sweetheart, and we will talk about it later. Alex is going to be OK, but we lucked out—don’t ever go against my word like that again. Promise?”
I know that was harsh, but she has to understand the stakes here if she wants to be a part of the process of getting this poor broken child healed.
She is shaking and whispers, “He is going to be alright? Oh, thank you, Momma. I was so afraid. I didn’t mean to…”
I just say, “Go! Do what I said. We will talk later when you’ve had a bit of time to think about your role in all of this. I’m not mad, Honey, but I am very disappointed. Part of your punishment, though, is to let your Aunt know that Alex had another episode and that he is OK.”
Alex speaks into my shoulder, “It’s not her fault, April. She didn’t force me…”
I continue stroking his hair and say, “Shh… We will all talk in a bit. Now, go get that Dr. Pepper, JuJu!”
JEWEL
I can’t believe I could have really caused my best friend some serious damage. I mean I never meant to. I really was trying to help, but I guess maybe I did also hope that by putting on the bra it would spark some memory of Lexi. I just had no idea what that would result in.
I go downstairs and call Maddie. It is the hardest thing I have ever had to do. I let her know that Alex is alright but has had an episode. She relays that she is on her way. I take a Dr. Pepper from the fridge and open it. I pour it into a plastic cup with some ice and carry it upstairs. Alex is sitting up in bed now and talking to Momma, “…already fading again.”
Momma takes the cup from me and hands it to Alex. She says, “Here, take slow sips and see if you can remember anything else. You said he was kicking you again. I assume ‘he’ was your father?”
He takes a careful sip and nods at the same time.
Momma keeps on, “And you said he was yelling something about ‘that quack’ and ‘being his son’. Do you have any idea what he meant?”
It is clear he is struggling to remember and then holds his head. He sighs and says, “It makes my head hurt when I try to think about it, but I’m pretty sure he was mad at me about something. I already don’t really remember the details of the dream or vision or whatever it was. It’s just gone. But if you’re sure I mentioned ‘quack’ then at least I know where I got that term from.” He blushes.
Momma gives him an inquisitive look and prompts, “Care to elaborate?”
He blushes even more. Momma just keeps looking at him and he finally gives in, “Well, before today when I learned that I’ve known you a lot longer than since waking up from my coma and that I always called you April… Well and before I figured out that you really do care, I might have referred to you as ‘Dr. Quack’ in my mind.” If possible, he blushes even more. I giggle at the look on Momma’s face and then she suddenly bursts out laughing.
“Dr. Quack, huh? I’ll show you Dr. Quack,” she giggles and starts to tickle him mercilessly.
Finally, he gasps, “Uncle! Uncle! I give up!”
It takes him a minute to catch his breath. As he is recovering from Momma’s attack, Maddie comes into the room and rushes over to Alex. She seems calm enough when she sees he is alright and asks, “Alex, Hon, are you OK? You had another episode?”
He blushes again and admits, “Yeah, I guess my idea didn’t work.”
I pipe up, “Alex, it’s my fault. I gave you the idea.”
He shakes his head and says, “Fact one, you did bring it up first. Fact two, I convinced myself it was a good idea—and then convinced April and Momma. Fact three, I don’t understand why wearing a bra would trigger one of these…attacks. My hypothesis was that I may be way too embarrassed to actually pull off wearing it to school, but there is no way I could have known that it would literally knock me out.”
He looks at Momma and asks, “Why would a bra trigger my bad memories of Daddy attacking me? I don’t get it.”
I am wondering if anyone besides me is picking up on the fact that he is referring to his father as ‘Daddy’, just like Lexi used to. I decide to not mention it—yet.
Momma shakes her head and says, “I couldn’t say, Hon. You tell me. Is there anything that you can think of that might have triggered it? Walk me through exactly what you were doing when the ‘attack’ happened.”
He falters and Momma looks at me and says, “Maybe if you start with what you remember before he went into the bathroom, JuJu.”
I sigh and say, still terribly embarrassed, “Well, I had finished showing him how to care for his skin and he was in the robe that he borrowed from me. I just showed him the bra and teased him that it would need some help to fill out. I showed him my chicken filets and he laughed and made it clear that wasn’t an option. I told him I was just joking around and then explained the easiest way to put on the bra. You know, latch it in front and spin it around.”
Momma gives me a dark look when I mention the enhancers but before she can say anything, Alex speaks up, “I was fine. I did start getting a headache when I thought about how good my skin felt. The joking around helped distract me from that. As far as putting on the bra, like I said, I had no way of knowing what would happen. I went into the bathroom and followed JuJu’s instructions. I took off my robe, wrapped it around me, and clasped it in front. I spun it around and put my arms through the straps. I remember thinking it was easy and was proud of myself for accomplishing the task, but thinking there is an easier way.” He gasps, “That is when it hit me—just as I was proud of myself. Did Daddy not want me to be proud of myself? Is that why he attacked me?”
MADDIE
I am still kicking myself as I listen to Alex explain what he had done. Lexi could put a bra on in her sleep—not that she needed one, of course. It just made her feel better—like any young girl. I guess that is why I convinced myself this might possibly be a good idea—or at least not a terrible one. I look at JuJu. It is clear that she is blaming herself and I am pretty sure that April was hard on her—we will have to talk. I am also surprised that he keeps referring to Jeremy as ‘Daddy’—that was a Lexi thing.
I am pulled out of my thoughts by the need to answer his question and shake my head. I carefully craft my response, “Alex, Hon, your father is deranged. It’s hard to say what he may have been thinking. He has very strange views on a lot of things and I think he wants you to think the same way he does. He is very bigoted and old-fashioned in his thinking. You did absolutely nothing wrong except to challenge his world views by being yourself. He couldn’t handle that.”
I sigh and look at JuJu. I muse, “JuJu, thank you for calling me and letting me know this did not go as hoped. I want you to know that I am neither mad, nor disappointed in you. I am proud that you had the courage to call—even if I’m sure that your Momma made you do it.”
I look at April and say, “You tried to talk me out of letting Alex do this and I take the responsibility. Don’t punish your child for genuinely trying to help mine. The million-dollar question now is, what are we going to do next? Alex, wearing a bra to school is out of the question.” I look at him and continue, “I’m not sure I would have allowed that even if you had worked up the courage to do so. My hope was that working up that courage would have been enough for you otherwise to stand up to your nemesis.”
He looks at me and grimaces, “The fact is, she’s basically just a real-world version of my inner demons. If I can learn to beat her, then maybe I can learn to beat my ‘inner’ attacks. I was pretty agnostic about wearing a bra—except when I would think about it, my head would hurt like somehow it was telling me it was wrong. Besides, it just doesn’t make sense for a boy to wear one. JuJu made me revisit that notion in this case. That’s why I was willing to try this—I needed to know if the paradox would work to stop the bullying. It was an interesting supposition. My head doesn’t seem to want me to work this out, though, because of Daddy’s undue influence. I’m not giving up on the idea of wearing a bra—maybe not to school—but just getting to the point that I don’t let my father’s ghost dictate anymore what I can or cannot—will or won’t—do. He does not deserve to have that power over me—over us.”
April is wiping a tear from her eye and I just sit there in awe. April gives him a hug and says, “Well said, Alex. And I can tell you’re feeling better as the complexity of your vocabulary seems to correlate with the clarity in your head. I take it your headache is gone?”
He nods and says, “I’m ready to try putting on the bra again.”
I say, “No way, Jose! You’ve had enough for one day, young man!”
April agrees, “Alex, Hon, I think we need to find better ways of beating your demons. After we make some progress, how about we use the bra test as a marker for improvement?”
He sighs and says, “I suppose you’re right.” In an abrupt change of subject, he looks at me and says, “Momma, JuJu and I are going to practice Jiu Jitsu together, I hope that’s OK with you. I hear it’s a good way to work out frustrations.”
I laugh, “I heard about that. I expect belts in record time.”
JuJu exclaims, “Deal! This is going to be so much fun!”
Broken! - Chapter 5
Author:
Caution:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
TG Themes:
Permission:
All Rights Reserved.
(All images and artwork are property of and copyrighted by Shauna J. Rousseau.)
ALEX
Today at school is not going quite as planned. But let me give you a quick run-down of the rest of the weekend, first. Fact one, I did not spend the night at JuJu’s. Fact two, we spent a lot of time talking without me getting any closer to understanding why seeing JuJu for the first time since my coma and then putting on a bra would either one cause my father’s memory to ‘attack’ me. I just don’t see any connection. Skincare does not fit in, either—that I can see. JuJu and I did go for another long walk on Sunday, but otherwise it was a quiet day. Oh, and Momma is making sure that I take proper care of both my hair and skin. It seems we had everything I need already at home in the guest bathroom and it hasn’t created any ‘boot’ issues, so...
Anyway, that brings us to today, Monday, and my inevitable confrontation with the Monster. I did spend a good portion of the day yesterday trying to figure out a plan of action. I laid out all the facts in my head. Fact one, wearing a bra is not an option. Fact two, beating her up, even if I could, is also not an option because that would make me no better than my father. Yes, I can somehow…sense…what he would say—“It’s just a girl and she needs to be put in her place; just slap her good to put some sense into her and show her her place.” Fact three, my best option is just to avoid her.
With that plan in mind, I try to avoid her, I really do. It does me no good, however. Just an hour into the day I run into her and her posse in the hallway. Unfortunately, it is an area without a camera. She grins when she sees me and starts right in, “Look girls! Our little new girl is not only still swinging her boobs free, now she seems to want to be a girly-girl. Look at her hair and fresh-scrubbed skin! Do I detect a faint hint of floral lotion? Listen slut! Fat slobs like you need to just give up. A pretty hairstyle and fresh skin won’t make up for being a tom-boy slob.”
I look at her and am speechless. I think she thinks I am a girl. I decide to go on the defensive, “Look, bitch. I’m bored of your verbose abuse. I may be adipose and suffer from an acute case of gynecomastia. I am aware that I’m not the shining example of male symbolism but when my testosterone levels increase with puberty there is a good chance that will change and I don’t want an accompanying chronic case of acne with its advent. All of that aside, however, there is absolutely no reason to diss the hair!”
Her jaw drops and she gives me a hyper-intelligent response, “Huh…? Wait! You’re a dude?”
I give her a suspicious look and nod.
She looks at her posse and explodes, “Who knew? I never would have guessed. I thought she was some bitch trying to look a little butch. It seems we have a dude that wants to look all girly.” She looks back at me and says, “Look, you’re still a fat slob but I don’t have time to worry about fairies. I will give you kudos for at least striving to pretend to be the better sex. Don’t get in my way, though, or I will pop your fat ass like a zit. I’m queen bee around here. Got it?”
I decide silence is golden and just nod.
She nods back and before I know what is happening, she and her posse are gone. Other than a slight headache, I feel fine—and I have hope that my issues with the Monster are maybe over.
The rest of the week is mostly boring in comparison. Fact one, classes are simple and bore me. I am at least three class levels ahead of the subject matter at hand—even with my coma-induced break in education. Fact two, I have no friends. At least the truce with the Monster seems to be holding—she simply ignores me. Well, mostly—I do catch her and posse sniggering when they look my way on occasion.
With nothing better to do, I spend an inordinate amount of time trying to figure out the common denominator between JuJu and a bra—other than the obvious of her being a girl and wearing one. Why would either of them cause an attack—and why would both of them? I am still discounting any effects of the skincare lesson.
I do walk for an hour every day with JuJu ,and Momma has me on a strict diet in addition to my new hair and skin regimen, which now also includes the appropriate dietary supplements. By Friday, I am feeling the effects. Fact one, my legs are sore. Fact two, my hair is getting really soft and shiny. Fact three, my skin is also looking much better from the attention. Fact four, my stomach is in a constant state of growling.
When April drops us off at the Dojo for our first Jiu Jitsu session, I am not at all confident about how well this will go given my soreness. Momma had brought us over on Tuesday after our walk to sign up and get our kimonos and white belts. I quickly learned how to tie the belt and felt proud of that accomplishment—strangely enough, that pride had not triggered an attack, so just pride alone does not seem to be the trigger.
Rather than get dressed at the dojo this first time, JuJu and I get fully dressed and ready to go before we get there. JuJu insists on putting my hair into a high, tight ponytail that will not come loose and stay out of my way. She also uses a couple of bobby pins to hold back my bangs. We excitedly run in and nervously take off our shoes and stand barefoot at the side of the mat like the sensei had instructed us on Tuesday. After a minute, a girl with a brown belt comes over and bows to us. JuJu kind of hits my hip with her hand to catch my attention and we both bow back to the girl. She smiles and says, “Hi girls, I’m Amy. Welcome to class.”
I choke and say, “Ummm, hi, Amy—but I’m a guy. I’m Alex. This is JuJu.”
She blushes and says, “Oh, I’m sorry, Alex. My bad!” She looks at JuJu and grins, “JuJu?” JuJu smiles and says, “Well, I have Alex to thank for that. My real name is Cindy and my first nickname was Jewel. Long story. Anyway, I have wanted to do Jiu Jitsu for a couple of years, now, and Alex here saddled me with Jiu Jewel which morphed into JuJu.”
Amy grins, “Well, welcome, Alex and JuJu. Let’s get started. I’m going to be your mentor of sorts for a while. We will see what kind of commitment you show. Don’t get me wrong, but there are a lot of people that come through here all gung-ho at first that don’t last long. But if you stick with it then I will stick with you. So, let me tell me you a little about what we will be doing to move you to the grey belt group. Sensei told me you’re interested in moving up as quickly as possible. That is why I am with you. I don’t want to boast, but I am damned good and a good teacher. So, we will begin with you learning the names of each of the main positions and acquiring a basic familiarity with each of them. For example, you will be able to identify the guard position.”
She takes a breath and demonstrates that position. She continues, “We will also start by choosing one technique and mastering it. Any questions?”
We both shake our heads and the rest of the class is a blur of landing on our backs and getting our first collection of bruises.
JEWEL
We are lounging on my bed after class and drinking a diet Dr. Pepper. We both are still wearing our kimonos and I feel a little like a steak must feel after being well tenderized with a mallet.
Alex has that ‘look’ on his face that he gets when he is deep in thought. Finally, he says, “It just makes no sense, JuJu!”
I shrug and ask, “Can you be a little more specific?”
My mistake.
He says, “Well, fact one, when I saw you for the first time since my coma and without any memory of you, I had a fleeting feeling that I was going to remember something and had an attack. Fact two, when I felt pride at getting the bra on correctly—not just putting it on, I had an attack. Fact three, when I felt pride at mastering tying my white belt, there was no attack. There has to be something that has a commonality in the triggers, but I don’t see it. Then, fact four, the Monster thought I was a girl. Fact five, Amy thought I was a girl. I would say it is the hair, but Jessie thought I was a girl before the new style. That is, however, a little clearer. I need to really step up getting in shape, lose the man-boobs, and pray for puberty.”
I giggle, “So, is there a question?”
He glares at me and drones on, “The triggers—what is causing the attacks? Seeing you isn’t doing it anymore, so it had to have something to do with the fact that seeing you that first time almost opened up some memories. Just being proud about something doesn’t do it, so it must have something to do with the bra without it just being the bra itself. Well a bra, anyway, unless you’re not telling me something about that one, in particular.”
I shake my head. If he only knew the truth about his history with bras. I cannot tell him, though.
He sighs and asks, “Why would a bra trigger an attack? I have to know! Give me a bra!”
I vehemently shake my head and say, “No! You can’t!”
He glares at me again and says, “I’m not going to put it on. I just want to hold it…”
I shake my head.
He says, “Fine!” He gets up and goes to my laundry hamper and pulls out a dirty one. I groan, “Alex! You’re going to get hurt and me in trouble!”
He shakes his head and mumbles, “Just touching it doesn’t elicit any reaction.” He looks at me and says, “I promised I won’t put it on, so relax. No one has to know.”
He continues to fiddle with the bra for a few minutes with a practiced ease that he doesn’t realize that he has and throws it back in the hamper in disgust. “I give up—this is hopeless! I’m never going to figure this out or get my memories back,” he wails.
I so wish I could just ‘remind’ him of Lexi, but Momma has strictly forbidden it and firmly impressed the importance on me of how dangerous that could be. After my last attempt to help, I am certainly going to listen to her now.
APRIL
“They’re upstairs relaxing, Hon,” I tell Maddie on the phone. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring Alex over in a bit. Let them chill. My hope is that by spending more time with JuJu that Alex will relax enough to let some of those memories sort of slip by whatever walls his father has forcibly built around them. Does that make sense?”
She sighs and says, “I guess. This week has been tough, and I don’t think we’ve made any progress. Well, except that Jessie McCarthy is now leaving him alone. I still don’t guess I understand the whole misunderstanding there.”
I let her in on the latest development on that front, “Well, it seems their Jiu Jitsu teacher mistook Alex for a girl today, too. I think he is exhibiting subtle subconscious signs of Lexi that others are picking up on. We are just too used to them to notice. Well, and there are also the beautiful post-operative results of Dr. Renault’s plastic surgery expertise in rebuilding Lexi’s face that I am sure are also confusing to those not in the know.”
She sighs again, “My poor child. We have to figure this out, Love. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up without slipping up—or just giving up and saying to Hell with it all and telling him about his past. Having to remove everything in the house that is a reminder of his ‘pre-coma’ life is starting to put a strain on things. He is pressuring me more and more on why there isn’t anything around. The story that his father destroyed everything in a fit of rage is not holding up as well as we hoped—even if it is largely true.”
I squeeze the phone tightly in frustration and say, “Hang in there, Love. I do think we are making progress. Don’t let up now. I actually think the next few weeks or months are going to be crucial—or his memories could come back in the next few minutes.”
“Or never,” she grumps.
I relent with a sigh, “Yes, that is possible. I honestly doubt it, though. He has to work through his demons, and we have to carefully help him find a path to safety. Once that happens, I think it will go very quickly. I am pretty sure he is trying to work some things out on his own based on what JuJu has told me. She has strict instructions to let him do it without any ‘help’, though.”
I end the call with, “I will feed them some late dinner and bring him back by ten. Love you!”
She sighs and says, “OK, thanks, Love. Love you, too.”
I put the phone down and go check on dinner. I hope I can keep my two ‘helpers’ on track. I am afraid this could all end up in a disaster if they do not toe the line.
ALEX
The rest of the school year goes by about the same. In other words, I am bored to tears with the mundane lessons. I envy JuJu who is going to a private school that actually has programs designed to challenge accelerated learners like myself. Unfortunately, fact one is that it is way too expensive for us and fact two, even if it wasn’t, it is an all-girls school.
JuJu and I are fast becoming the best of friends—I guess, I should say again. I still don’t remember her from before, but I somehow find myself discovering things that I just know about her. Her favorite color, her favorite band, her favorite food… It is strange, though. They are things that I would not expect to really know about a girl—unless she was maybe my girlfriend. I still don’t see how that could have been possible, though—not that I would mind. I really like her as a friend, but she is becoming more like a sister to me.
We have continued taking Jiu Jitsu seriously and are close to being ready to take our first belt test together—we mostly just have to meet the time mandate, now. Since we are under sixteen, it won’t be for a blue belt, but for a grey/white one. We have been at it for four months now and have four more to go before we can attempt it. The memorization part is a piece of cake for me. Learning some of the moves is not, but JuJu is excelling in that piece. So, we complement each other as partners—I help her memorize the names of the moves and she helps me practice them.
The training, together with the walking we do and the diet Momma placed me on, has literally melted the pounds away and I am now nearly back at my goal weight. I have been going to see Joyce on a biweekly basis and my hair is healthy and close to an inch longer than it was. I still have the same basic style. Once I got used to it, I kind of like it. Doing one hundred strokes with a brush each night is now second nature and I do not even really have to count them anymore. My skin regimen has also been successful in keeping any zits and acne at bay—puberty, or not. Overall, I look and feel much better—I just really look a lot like a girl, though. There still is just no sign of puberty kicking in to help with that…
Speaking of girls, summer is approaching and with that there will be more time for JuJu and I to do things together. She has already planned big trips to the mall. Oh joy…
JEWEL
Well, school has sucked this year—as always. But at least this is the last week and I will be free for the summer. I already have plans with Alex on top of our usual walks and Jiu Jitsu. Shopping for one! I know Alex isn’t into it like Lexi was, but that won’t stop me!
Jiu Jitsu classes are going pretty well. I have mostly mastered ten defensive moves. If I could only remember their names. Alex has that down pat but struggles with some of the moves. So, we practice on our walks. He drills me on the names, and I make him practice the moves. Win, win! If it were not for the stupid time requirement, I am sure we could pass the next belt exam and get our grey/white one.
Alex is looking great! Whether he knows it or not, his hair and skin are totally back to Lexi standards. It is really hard at times not to slip up and call him Lexi—he looks so much more like a girl than a boy. Thank goodness he has not entered puberty yet!
He has not had any more attacks since the bra incident. Well, not full-on ones, anyway. There have been times when he got a little close to doing something feminine and got splitting headaches—but no boots or passing out. Like he nearly decided to get his ears pierced once—something about Maddie mentioning that he had once wanted it. The closer he got to the store, the more his head hurt. He finally gave up. There were other incidents. I think he is beginning to piece together a pattern. Momma is worried.
APRIL
I look back over my notes from the last four months. I am worried about Alex. Not because he hasn’t made progress but because he has. He is in a dangerous sort of purgatory—in between complete amnesia and remembering. His attack triggers are largely the same, but with more muted responses, since it seems to ‘only’ be largely severe headaches rather than debilitating visions, which is good. But he is starting to see the pattern and I am afraid he will start experimenting—or start paying more attention to some of the things Maddie, JuJu, or I say that are true slip-ups. Like the time months ago that Maddie slipped up and mentioned that Lexi—or Alex as she covered—had once wanted pierced ears. He actually tried to go through with it a while back but couldn’t. I have no idea what would have happened if he actually had. I am afraid he will succeed in some ‘experiment’ and trigger another severe episode that could have long-term damage or put him back in a coma.
Mads and I have also nearly slipped on several occasions and let the cat out of the bag on our relationship. It’s not that we are ashamed of it, or that we want to keep it secret. We just do not want to pile that on top of things just, yet. It is getting hard to hold back, though. I know Mads is really struggling.
MADDIE
I undo the straps and take off my shoes with a sigh of relief. I sit on the couch and tuck my legs up under me with my knees off to the side. I rub my feet and moan. We had left Alex with JuJu and had gone for a night out and there may have been dancing involved. I love my four-inch stilettos, but after two hours on the dance floor, well…not so much.
After April leaves with JuJu, Alex looks at me and sits on the couch beside me. He pulls my feet onto his lap and starts rubbing my left one. I genuinely moan. He lets out something between a snicker and a giggle. He says, “OK, Momma. It can’t be that bad, right? I mean—not like two hours on the mat and getting all bruised up! Although, I don’t see how you even walk on those stilts.”
I don’t know what comes over me. Maybe it is because I am so relaxed with him rubbing my aching feet; maybe it is me just sub-consciously tired of holding back the truth; I really don’t know. I moan and say, “Keep that up, Hon! And you used to do just fine in shoes just like those…”
I realize what I just said at the same time his hand clamps down on my foot and he gasps, “What? I did what?”
I actually gulp. What do I do now? I finally say, “Well, you used to practice walking in heels before your coma.”
He looks at me in a funny way and asks, “And why would I do that?”
I sigh and get back on the tightrope, “Well, Hon, I guess you will have to regain your memories to completely know the answer to that question. However, I suppose you saw it as a challenge you wanted to master. Kind of like your Jiu Jitsu now.”
He isn’t buying it, I can tell. He counters, “But why would I want to master heels? Is that something that Daddy got mad about?”
Oh shit! I am so sunk!
I shake my head and say, “Your father got mad about everything, Hon. If he did, it was nothing unique.”
He scrutinizes my face and I surprise myself when I keep from blushing. Finally, he says, “So, I don’t suppose it would harm me to try them on?”
I force myself to remain calm, “I don’t think they are your size, dear.” I know that is true, but they are only a size too big and the straps could easily be tightened enough to make do. Lexi had done it before—before I got her shoes in the correct size.
He smiles sardonically and gets up. I sigh and say in a warning voice, “Alex…”
He shakes his head and says, “What’s the big deal, Momma?”
Before I can stop him, he steps into my shoes, tightens the straps, and starts walking like he has spent hundreds of hours practicing—which, actually, he has. The fact that they are slightly too big doesn’t even phase him.
He turns with a proud smile and drops to the floor with a moan and is overcome with the first full-on attack in months.
ALEX
Walking in the heels is a breeze. I surprise even myself when I simply take off in them. I expected to stumble and fall first thing—especially since they are too big and have these huge heels. I turn to Momma proud of myself despite everything.
And a torrent of boots starts raining down on my face.
I drop to the floor and mentally cringe. My head splits and I hear Daddy yelling at me, “You little fag! I will beat that out of you! You are my son! Do you hear me? I have talked to Reverend Bigotto and he has promised beating it out of you will work. He will be over soon to pray for you!”
I hold my hands in front of my face in a vain attempt to protect it and plead, “Daddy, no! Stop! You’re hurting me!”
I feel the bones in my arms and face crack and I pass out from the severe pain.
Momma’s voice slowly fades in through the fog of the episode, “…lex! Alex, Sweetheart! Please wake up! Your father is not here! He is not beating you up! Come back to me! Please! Lexi, wake up!”
My eyes snap open and I look at Momma. I am still groggy and the memory is already starting to fade into the all-too-familiar fog. Then I remember Momma calling out to Lexi and I latch onto that. Somehow, I manage to focus on that and the memory of the attack stays in my mind.
My head is still splitting, though, and I am not sure that I heard right, after a minute. Why would she call me Lexi? I must have misheard.
I rub my head and ask, “Momma, did you just call me ‘Lexi’? I’m having a hard time holding on to the memories of the attack, but I am pretty sure that is what I heard. I even remember Dadd…father calling me a fagot and something about a Reverend…Bigotto… What is going on? Please tell me!”
APRIL
I am nearly home after dropping Mads off and picking JuJu up. The phone rings and the car announces that it is Maddie. I look at JuJu in worry and click the button on the steering wheel to answer the call, “Maddie, what’s wrong?” I instinctively know something is wrong.
Her voice comes over the car’s speaker, “Please come back! I screwed up and Alex had an attack. He’s awake and asking questions that I need your help answering!”
I respond, “I’ll be right there, Love.” That gets me a strange look from JuJu. I know she has suspected things, but I have never confirmed them—I guess until my slipup just now.
I exceed the speed limit and pray there are no patrol cars out tonight. We make it back to Maddie’s in record time and I hurry in the front door without knocking. I rush into the living room where I hear Alex pleading with his Momma, “…need to know!”
I see that he is sitting up and looks fine. Maddie, on the other hand, looks very haggard. She sees me come in and the relief on her face is palpable. In for a penny, in for a pound, I rush over to her and give her a hug and a kiss and say, “I’m here, Love. What is going on?”
If nothing else, that shuts Alex up. I look at Alex and JuJu and say, “We are an item—we have been since shortly before Alex’s coma but thought it best to keep that to ourselves. I slipped up and let the cat out of the bag to JuJu, so there is no sense trying to keep it quiet anymore. So, now what is going on, Mads? You said you messed up?”
She sighs and holds my hand in a death grip. She tells me about how she slipped up with the shoe comment…and then the rest of the story. Alex confirms what he can remember—which is more of the episode than usual. Great news and terrible news, all at the same time, given the circumstances. His memories have not completely returned so we cannot just drop it on him that he was—or is—transgendered.
I look at Alex and say, “OK, Alex, we will answer your questions—but only your specific questions. We will not divulge anything that you do not ask. But it can’t be fishing, deal?”
He pouts a little, but knows it is the best offer he is going to get, so he nods. He starts out as predicted, “Lexi?”
I squeeze Maddie’s hand and take that one. I carefully answer, “Alex, your father is a die-hard bigot. He despises anything that he considers gay. He found you one time wearing your mother’s heels and it set him off. That is partly what you are remembering…now…about your episodes. In the end, he beat you very badly and put you in a coma. He seems to think that ‘gayness’ can be beaten out of someone. He has a ‘mentor’, I guess is what you would call him, ‘Reverend’ Bigotti, who ‘leads’ a ‘church’ who’s mission it is to eradicate ‘perverts’ as they call them.” I use a lot of air quotes in that explanation to get across what I really think.
He processes that for a couple of minutes and asks, “So, are you saying I am gay?”
I shrug and ask, “Do you feel gay? What do you think, Alex?”
He slowly shakes his head and says, “I don’t think I have ever thought about girls or boys in that way, so I wouldn’t know. I doubt that would have been any different back then. Then why would he think that?”
I shake my head, “That is a fishing question. You have to be more specific than that.”
He sighs, “You still didn’t answer why ‘Lexi’.”
I sigh back, “OK, you aren’t going to give up on that. You didn’t just wear your Momma’s shoes that once. That should be apparent by the fact that you could walk in them so well, so I will save you that question. When you wore them, you decided you wanted to be called ‘Lexi’. That is probably why your Momma used the name. Is that right, Love?” I look at Maddie and squeeze her hand.
She nods and says, “That’s right, Hon. It was your nickname when you wore them. You were determined to master them as a personal challenge.”
I jump in, “Before you ask, I can’t tell you why you wanted to. That is for you to answer.”
He screws up his face and says, “That is bovine feces! That just leaves me with nothing! Am I a pervert? Was Daddy right?”
I sigh and say, “What I can tell you, Love, is that you are not a pervert. You have to have a conversation with yourself about whether you feel gay—or anything else that some would consider perverted—and I am happy to discuss those feelings with you. But no matter what your feelings are—gay, straight, or multi-dimensional—you are not a pervert and don’t let anyone tell you differently!”
He sits there quietly—processing.
I add, “And as for the shoes…it was a masterful challenge. You were better at walking in them than JuJu!”
JuJu blushes and nails it perfectly, “Yeah. I dared you and we had a bet who could walk better in them the quickest. You beat the skirt off of me!”
He looks at JuJu and slowly grins. He blurts out, “It was a bet? Why didn’t you say so?”
She sticks her tongue out and nails it again, “You didn’t ask!”
He blushes and grumbles. Before anyone can stop him, he is on his feet again and slips into the shoes. He minces perfectly around the house for ten minutes without an episode. Finally, he says, “OK, other than a slight headache, I seem to have mastered this particular challenge twice now.”
He looks at Maddie and grins, “Tomorrow, I will master the next. I want to get my ears pierced!”
Broken! - Chapter 6
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(All images and artwork are property of and copyrighted by Shauna J. Rousseau.)
ALEX
I look at the selection of ‘starter’ earrings and grimace at the queasiness starting up in my stomach from a severe case of the nerves. OK, it is an improvement over the stomach pain from the nausea caused by my past headaches—but not much. Not to say that my head is not killing me, but not enough to stop me this time. It is not that I really want my ears pierced, per se—at least not for the usual reasons. You know, as a fashion statement—it is more of a personal statement to myself; just to prove that I can do it.
I tossed and turned most of the night thinking about being seen as a pervert and the implications of that. Fact is, lots of boys get their ears pierced these days, so while some older people and bigots may still have issues with it, it will not be any big deal at school. I really have to do it to prove that I can, though. Daddy must have had that on his list of ‘gayness’ which is why the thought alone triggers a headache attack and I won’t let him win. Fact is that I do not really remember wanting them pierced before my coma—or what my reasons were then—but I do know what and why I do now and I will get it done this time!
I have also thought a lot about the ‘story’ of the ‘bet’. Something does not seem quite right about that story—like it is only part of the truth, but I cannot get anything else out of any of them because I cannot think of the right questions to ask. I will still have to think some more on that.
My reverie is broken when the salesgirl, Jodie, asks me, “Have you decided, Alex?”
I sigh and say, “I’m not sure, Jodie. JuJu, what do you think?”
We are at the mall and I am in the local Claire’s along with JuJu. Momma is at work at Butterfield’s, the main anchor department stores here at the mall, where she is the manager. She signed the release and stopped by with me to make sure Jodie knows I have her permission. She has to take care of something at the store but wants me to text her before the actual piercing takes place so she can be here—just in case.
JuJu smiles and asks, “Trust me?”
I shrug and respond, “Sure. I guess.”
She giggles and whispers with Jodie, who is preparing to punch needle-sharp posts through my earlobes. Jodie nods and pulls out two little boxes and puts on sterile gloves after making little dots on my ears with a marker. She has me look in a mirror and asks if I like the placement. I shrug. Fact is, I have no idea what the difference is—as long as they are in the lobe.
JuJu makes a suggestion for a slight change more towards the edge of my ear and says, “For small hoops.”
Jodie nods and asks me, “Are you OK with that?”
I sigh and say, “I trust you and JuJu. What do I know?”
She nods and redoes the markings. JuJu nods her approval and, again, I just shrug—but nod. I start to get my phone.
The first stud is in before I really know what happened. I cringe—not because it hurt but because it happened before I let Momma know. She was afraid I would have an episode and wanted to be here just in case. I start to say something, but Jodie is quick! The other stud is in before I know it.
I feel a little dizzy and my head pounds a little harder, but it is nowhere near a full-on attack. I look in the mirror and see little ‘diamond’ studs sparkling in the bright lights surrounding the mirror. I sit there in dread and wait for the boots. Nothing happens!
I say, “Thank you, Jodie. I was supposed to wait for Momma before you actually did the piercing, but you are fast!”
JuJu says, “Oh! I’m sorry! I should have stopped her, but I got caught up in the moment. Are you feeling OK, Alex?”
I nod and say, “Just a little lightheaded.”
Jodie smiles and says, “That is normal, Alex. A lot of girls feel that way. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Now let me go through the cleaning and care you will need to do…”
My head spins a little again. She thinks I am a girl… Why do all of these people think of me that way? Was that why Daddy thought I was gay and a pervert? Did he see a girl, too?
I text Momma and then pay attention to Jodie’s instructions. She is just finishing when Momma walks in, surprised that it is over, “Alex? Are you OK? I thought you were going to let me know before Jodie started!”
JuJu pipes up, “It was my fault, Maddie! I got caught up in the excitement and didn’t tell Jodie to wait. She is really fast!”
Jodie giggles and says, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Jorden! I find it best to get the job done quickly before my subjects have too much time to think about it, so that’s like on me. But Alex handled it admirably!”
MADDIE
I sigh and say, “My meeting with the shoe department sales manager took longer than expected or I would have been here sooner. I’m glad that everything went OK.” I give Alex a pointed look as I say it. Then I look at Jodie and ask, “So, is everything done? Are we ready to pay?”
She nods and says, “Yes, I showed Alex how to take care of her ears so she should be good. I can ring you out at the register.”
I start to correct her, but she is already at the cash register and looks at Alex and asks, “That is unless you all want to look at jewelry? We have a buy-one-get-one sale going on.”
Alex shakes his head and says, “No. I think I am good with what I have.” JuJu just shakes her head, too.
I shake my head at Jodie and pay, still disturbed that she mistook Alex for a girl and he didn’t call her on it.
When we are back out in the mall and walking towards Butterfield’s I ask, “Alex, why didn’t you correct Jodie when she referred to you as a girl? I was going to and was totally surprised when you didn’t.”
He shrugs and says, “She’s not the first to make the mistake. I guess I could understand her confusion with my hair and all. You would think the way I’m dressed would discourage those thoughts, though. I mean I know that girls often dress in boys’ stuff and all, but I really still don’t get it. Stupid late puberty! Anyway, fact is, it didn’t seem worth the embarrassment—hers or mine.”
I nod and have to wonder if this is another step that Alex has taken towards healing. I will have to talk to April about it.
We walk into the store that I have been managing for the past two years and JuJu asks, “Maddie, is it OK if we go look at clothes?”
I smile and reply, “Of course. Let me know if you find anything you like and I will give you my discount, now that you know that you are practically family. Just be back at my office around lunchtime and we will go get something to eat together.”
She hugs me and enthuses, “Thanks! We will!”
I watch them head towards the escalators and the girl’s department. I think I see a look of pain and despair on Alex’s face, but I could be mistaken. I giggle and go back to my office for my meeting with the lingerie department sales manager.
JEWEL
I pull Alex to the escalator and ask him on the way to the second floor, “So, what do you think about your new studs?”
He grimaces a little and says, “Well, I’m not sure I would have chosen the sparkly diamonds as my first choice, but otherwise they are fine, I guess.”
I giggle and say, “They only sparkle like that in the special bright lights they have in the store. Under normal lights, they are much more subdued. They go awesome with your bold new look and are really nice on you. I can’t wait for you to be able to change them out for others!”
He shrugs and explains, “I just did it to prove to myself that I could. I’m not looking for them to be any sort of fashion statement. As far as I’m concerned, I could pull them right back out, right now, and be fine with the outcome!”
I giggle and say, “Well, let me make the statement for you, then. I care what you look like, even if you don’t! And don’t you dare!”
I almost fall down the escalator when he sticks his tongue out at me. It is the first time that I can remember since his coma that he has kidded with me in that way!
I smile as I look around for where to start. I have a plan and Momma begrudgingly endorsed it.
I almost literally drag him to the girl’s department and start looking through the racks of tops. I pull one out that I am not particularly fond of and ask, “So, Alex, what do you think of this? Would it look good on me?”
He shrugs and mutters, “I guess.”
I don’t let up, “’I guess’ doesn’t help me, Alex. What do you like—or not like—about it?”
He sighs and says, “Fact one, the color would wash out the color of your face, and fact two, it looks too frumpy for you. But you seem to like it, so what difference does it make what I think? Why are we even doing this?”
I put the top back on the rack and pull out a similar one in a different shade of blue that I think would go well with my blonde hair and blue eyes. I hold it up with a questioning look on my face and retort, “We are doing this because I want your opinion. Don’t worry, I will give you mine when we look for clothes for you.”
He groans and I continue, “Just because I pull any of these out doesn’t mean that I necessarily like them so don’t get hung up on that. I honestly want your opinion. Now, what do you think about this one?”
We continue the dance with the tops for the next hour and I pick out three I actually like. By then, Alex is more generous with his input and starting to use vocabulary that I am sure he has no idea how he gained—or actually realizes he is using. It is sort of like him flexing muscles he does not even remember he had. I can almost hear Lexi, who was as avid a clothes and shoe fashionista as his Momma, giving me advice.
We move on to skirts and other bottoms, then dresses, and finally to shoes.
Three hours later, Maddie comes into the department and says, “I thought I would find you still around here and decided to just meet you. Did you find anything nice, JuJu?”
I excitedly show her all of my assorted findings—tops, bottoms, shoes, and accessories. I gush, “I love all of this stuff and Alex has been great helping me pick it all out. Now, I just have to narrow it down to something I can afford!”
Maddie grins and says, “Well, your birthday is coming up in a couple of weeks, so Happy Birthday, Hon!”
She gathers all the things and goes to a register and just rings them up. I gasp at the price of all the designer clothes and accessories—even with her substantial discount. She smiles, “Don’t worry, Love. Your Momma is splitting the cost with me, so don’t expect anything more from her.”
I giggle, “No worries! This is so awesome! Thank you, Maddie!” I give her a huge hug and grin.
She says, “Now, I don’t suppose you found anything for Alex?”
He blushes, “Well, we were here the whole time, so no… It doesn’t matter, though. I’m fine with what I have.”
Maddie says, “Nonsense! The two of you can continue this after our, now late, lunch. Let’s put these things in my office and we can go to Alex’s favorite restaurant. How does that sound? By the way, how are your ears, Hon?”
He sighs and helps carry a couple of my numerous bags as he says, “They feel fine. I’m glad I was able to go through with it without incident, but you don’t think it was a mistake, do you? I mean it was just to prove a point.”
Maddie giggles and says, “Only if you do, Sweetheart. Only if you do. But I have paid for them now, so you need to take care of the piercings and let them heal up even if you ultimately decide not to wear earrings afterwards. No one will even notice the holes if you leave them empty. Deal?”
He sighs and nods as we unload the bags in her office.
ALEX
“Are you sure about this, JuJu,” I ask in an incredulous tone. She has me in the boy’s department for the third time this week and we are looking at clothes that I would, at best, describe as androgynous. She has just handed me a pink shirt that is less than ‘manly’.
She says, “What don’t you like about it? Be honest—with yourself and me.”
I sigh and say, “Well… It’s pink for starters.”
She sighs and admonishes, “Boys can wear pink!”
I shake my head and say, “Sure. I mean, yes, many would think that is gay—but I think I’m past that particular bridge and have incinerated it. At least it is a demon I’m wearing down. I’m pretty sure I am not gay and don’t really care if I am. What I’m referring to is that this shade would clash with my hair.”
She blushes and mutters, “Oh…right. Well, OK, here.”
She pulls out the same t-shirt in shade of purple that would both compliment my hair and my eyes. And I cannot believe I am even thinking that—where did it come from? I wait for the boots to rain down, but other than a light tightening between my eyes, I control the demon that is my father’s unwanted legacy.
I take the shirt and examine it. The material is of good quality and it feels really soft—not as soft as some of the clothes we picked out for JuJu, but it is much softer than most of the clothes a boy would typically wear. That and the way it is cut with a ‘V’ neck puts it over the edge towards a more feminine look. To be honest, I cannot really say I hate it, but there is something that is…off…about it. I just cannot really put my finger on it.
Finally, I say, “I don’t hate it. I mean I sort of am OK with it—there is just something… Oh, put it in the pile of maybes, I guess.”
She pulls out a few more and while they are OK, they just are not anything that I am wild about. Actually, I don’t see anything around that just makes me scream, ‘I just have to have that’. That has been my problem all week and I feel like we are just wasting our time.
JuJu sighs after quizzing me on several different shirts. Then she says, “OK. I have to go to the little girl’s room. I will be right back. You keep looking!”
She is gone for several minutes and I look through the different racks without really finding anything. Not that I was expecting to, but it is not like I am on a mission to find something for me like she is. When she finally taps me on the shoulder from behind, nearly giving me a coronary, she has several things draped over her arms.
She says, “Come on! To the dressing room. I have an idea.”
She pulls me to the dressing room, pushes me into a stall, closes the door, and says, “Take off your pants and shirt!”
I sigh and do as she commands. Then she says, “I want you to put these on without looking closely at them or looking in the mirror until you come out. OK? Promise?”
I sigh and say, “Sure. Whatever. If it will get you off my back about this.”
She hands me a shirt. I try not to pay any attention to it. It is very similar to the purple one she had picked out before, but it feels much nicer. I pull it over my head and like how it feels. Then she hands me a pair of jeans that are an emerald green in color, and I start to pull them on. They are skinny jeans and would have looked really dorky on me before I lost weight. Since I am nearly down to my goal, I go ahead and squeeze into them. I am pleasantly surprised that they have a lot of stretch and are really soft, too.
She asks, “OK, ready?”
In spite of the nice feeling of the clothing, I am still not totally enamored. I sigh again and open the door. She smiles as she sees me and says, “OK. Turn around and tell me what you like and what you don’t.”
I take a deep breath and turn around to look in the full-length mirror. I honestly am pleasantly surprised at the look, but disappointed at the same time. I say, “Well, it doesn’t look terrible, I guess.” I see the crestfallen look on her face and continue, “It’s much better than I was expecting and while I didn’t try on the first things you found, I’m sure these are better looking. So, fact one, I like the soft fabrics and the stretchy feel of the jeans. It all feels really nice on my sensitive skin, which I guess is the result of the skin regimen you and Joyce talked me into going along with. Fact two, the look is on the feminine side, but not so bad, I guess. That doesn’t bother me, really—we already talked about what some would consider ‘gay’ and that I don’t care. Fact three, I like the colors. They are bold, but they complement each other and don’t clash with my hair. They actually complement my eyes and I can’t believe I’m telling you that. Fact four, the overall look is very nice—it just isn’t…me—and before you ask, no, I don’t know what is. It’s like I have something buried deep down in me that knows what I want but it won’t tell me.”
Her eyes start glistening and she says, “It’s OK, Alex. I think I get it. But could we get these for you anyway? I think you look really hot in them!”
I half-laugh, half giggle and say, “Well, OK, then. If I’m hot!” I wiggle my eyebrows and turn back to the dressing room to take them off. That is when I notice they are girl’s clothes. I start to get mad at her but realize it does not really matter. I am standing here in them, knowingly, and not having an attack. That in and of itself is reason enough to buy them!
I come out of the dressing room and admonish her, “Sneaky! Why girl’s clothes? Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”
She giggles and says, “No, I was sure you would. I don’t know. It was just what you were describing you liked and disliked all week first led me to the androgynous boys’ stuff and then to well…those.”
I look pointedly at her and I ask, “JuJu, did I wear girls’ clothes before my coma—is that why Daddy hit me?”
She screws up her face and sighs, “Well, yes, you might have worn girls’ things when you were practicing in the shoes. It sort of made sense, don’t you agree. I’m sorry if you hate me!”
I give her a hug and say, “I could never hate you, JuJu. Oh! Wait! You’re going to be my sister, so I guess I can’t promise that! I mean don’t I have to hate you then?” I give her an impish grin and wink.
She hits me on the arm and I text Momma that I have some purchases.
MADDIE
I am surprised at the clothes I pay for but know that JuJu had a strong hand in the choice. I don’t mind. It seems that Alex is really OK with them. I drop JuJu off at their house and stop by the local Chinese place for takeout for Alex and me on the way home. After we finally get to bed, it does not take me long to fall asleep, but I am just as quickly awakened by Alex crying out in his sleep.
I rush to Alex’s room. He is still crying out and it is louder than usual, but it has a different tone to it. I peek through the door and he sits up in that moment with a mortified gasp.
I quietly enter the room, so I don’t startle him and whisper, “Are you OK, Hon? Were you having a nightmare?”
He sighs and says, “No, Momma. Well, I guess that depends on your definition of a nightmare. If Daddy were dreaming it, I guess it would be.”
Two things hit me at that moment. One, he seems to be remembering the dream and two, he called his father ‘Daddy’ again. I have noticed that he has been slipping into that subconsciously more and more of late. It is what Lexi would call her father—when he was not around. It is never something that Alex called his father.
I prod gently, “Can you tell me about it?”
He looks at me and is plainly visible in the light of the full moon shining through the window. He is silent for a minute and seems to be thinking. Then he exclaims in surprise, “I actually can! I remember the dream, but I have no idea what it means. I was in a dress and heels whirling to music and just having fun dancing with JuJu. And she was calling me Lexi. I guess it must have something to do with her admitting that she tricked me into learning to walk in heels before and then buying those clothes today and that I used Lexi as a nickname when I was practicing in the heels for whatever reason. I have no idea where the dress came from—but it felt so right. Daddy was nowhere to be seen and I had no negative reactions to the dream that I can remember.”
Then he whispers, “But, I can remember the parts with the dress. What does all of this mean, Momma?”
I tell myself to not do it. I tell myself again. I tell myself one more time before I pull him into a hug and give in. I simply say, “Wait here, Love. I think it’s time.”
I quickly go to my closet before I change my mind and pull out one of Lexi’s favorite dresses. It is the one she was wearing on that fateful night and I had it cleaned and repaired. I am pretty sure it will now fit her again. I also grab her favorite heels—the ones that are actually in her size—I don’t think her feet have grown. I have kept them both in my closet as a remembrance of happier times and that we are lucky to be alive. The rest of her clothes and things are stored away in the attic to avoid questions.
I take the dress and heels into Alex’s room and inquire, “Did the dress look anything like this?”
He gasps and wonders, “That’s the one, Momma. How did you know?”
I cry and take a moment to gather myself before I respond, “I just had a hunch. Would you like to try it on just for kicks?”
He gives me a funny look but then bites his lower lip and nods—almost imperceptibly.
He takes off the oversized t-shirt he sleeps in and I help him slip into the dress and zip up the back. Then he slips into the shoes and gasps. I am afraid he is having an attack, but he gushes, “Momma! This feels so…right! I don’t understand?”
I sigh and explain, “You would wear that dress a lot when you were in those heels. You would practice for hours in them. When you were in that mode, you always wanted to be called ‘Lexi’.”
He shakes his head and sits down on the bed. I notice he sweeps the dress without even thinking—or noticing. He automatically tucks his feet under him just like a girl—like Lexi—and looks at me forlornly. He says, “I still don’t understand, Momma.”
I cry more and respond, “That’s all I can say, Love. You must remember the rest on your own. You’re welcome to wear the dress or the shoes—or both—anytime you want. Or any other dress, clothes, or shoes, for that matter. I—we all—will call you Lexi if you want. It’s up to you, Love. You have to decide if it is what you want—and why. Before you ask—yes, you were wearing a dress when your bastard father attacked you.” I leave out that it was this dress. I continue, “You wound up in a coma because I couldn’t protect you. I wound up with a broken arm and a broken eye socket, but nothing like what he did to you. I’m so sorry, Sweetie. I should have protected you!”
I break down in sobs and she falls into my arms and cries with me. She…he says, “I’m sorry you were hurt because of me, Momma. I don’t know why I did it. I don’t feel gay. I don’t feel like I should feel ashamed of myself.”
I stroke her…his beautiful, soft hair and exclaim, “Nonsense, Alex! You did absolutely nothing wrong! It’s not your fault that your father is a bigoted bastard! It’s not your fault!”
He giggles and says, “Don’t you mean, Lexi, Momma? I’m in a dress after all!”
I squeeze her tightly and say in a serious tone, “I will call you whatever you like, Love. But don’t have me do it unless you mean it, OK? It’s not a game.”
He slowly nods and muses, “OK, Momma. Let me think about it. I wish I could sleep in this dress, though, it feels so…familiar and comfortable.”
I giggle. In for a penny, in for a pound. I say, “Hang on, Hon!”
I go to my room and grab a nightgown like she used to sleep in. I take it in to her and do not know where it will lead, but it feels like a step in the right direction. If Lexi is no longer meant to be, then maybe this will help Alex find himself. If not, maybe it will help Lexi find herself. Either way, it seems like my child has taken a big step forward.
I ask, “Would you like to put this on and come sleep with me?”
He hugs me and whispers, “Yes, Momma. I would really like that.”
APRIL
“You did what and he did what,” I exclaim in complete and total frustration. My look is one of total annihilation.
“Shhhh,” she admonishes me, “you’ll wake him up!”
I am sitting in the kitchen with Mads drinking coffee. She called me over at six this morning and Alex is still asleep in her bed. I just got the whole story of what happened last night.
I sigh and ask, “And what about the plan to let him work this out himself?”
She says, “I didn’t divulge anything he hadn’t already figured out on his own.”
I give her a jaundiced eye and top it off with a ‘look’.
She says exasperated, “What? He dreamt about that exact dress and heels and remembered it! I thought that deserved a reward. Maybe it will encourage more good dreams and memories.”
I sigh and reluctantly relent, “OK. That makes a demented sort of sense. But…”
“Good morning, April! You’re here early! Is JuJu here, too,” Alex asks as he stumbles into the kitchen in the same nightgown I had seen Lexi wear at sleepovers with Juju a hundred times—or at least it is a close semblance of that nightgown. I have to literally bite my tongue to not let out a gasp.
I shake my head, check to see if my tongue is bleeding, and say, “She’s still asleep and I’m sorry if we woke you up, Love. Why don’t you go back to bed?”
She shakes her head. Damn! He shakes his head and yawns, “I’m awake now. Momma, can I have some coffee? Please?”
Maddie giggles, but gives me a dark look that screams, ‘I told you so’! She says, “OK, Love. A little, sure. Then I want you to tell April about your dream. Deal?”
He nods and Mads makes him a cup of coffee that is more a café-au-lait consisting of about one quarter milk. Of course, her coffee is several times stronger than most ‘normal’ humans’, so, that is still quite strong. I watch Lex…Alex take a sip and barely grimace or shiver. Color me surprised! I have to drink her coffee with at least half milk and loads of sugar.
He takes another slow sip and looks at me with an appreciative smile. His eyes are getting brighter as the strong dose of caffeine kicks in and he explains, “I had this dream with JuJu in it last night. I was in a dress and heels and we were having a really fun time just dancing and goofing around. I was really happy and felt completely at peace. Something then happened in my dream after that, that I don’t remember, but it woke me up. Momma says I was wearing a dress when Daddy attacked me, so I figure something like that must have happened in my dream to wake me up. I just don’t remember it. Fact is, I prefer remembering the good parts of the dream and forgetting the bad ones—even if the good parts totally make no sense to me.”
He blows gently on his coffee and all I can see is a beautiful young girl in front of me. She…he continues after taking another sip, “Momma went to her room and brought out the exact dress that I was wearing in my dream, along with the heels. I tried them on and it felt like I was finally home after a long trip. Only, I realized that it isn’t home, because I still don’t know where home is.” She screws up her…his face and asks, “Does that make sense?”
Suddenly, I feel like going and getting some strong Irish Cream to put in my coffee. I nod slowly and say, “I think so, Alex. What else do you remember? What else do you feel?”
She…he sighs and says, “I feel like I want to wear the dress again—with all the trappings… A bra, panties, maybe stockings… Am I crazy, April? Is that why Daddy beat me?”
My heart melts all over again. We had this very same discussion nearly two years ago when Lexi was more fully asserting herself in Alex’s life. I pull him into a tight hug and say, “No, Love, you are not crazy. Confused? Yes. But not like your father wants you to think. There are many reasons that you might want to wear a dress and there are a lot of people, including men, who do. We can explore what those reasons may be later. OK? Your father wants you to believe you are pathologically confused—that you need a ‘treatment’ to rid you of your ‘sickness’. He is the one that is sick.”
He looks so much like Lexi that I want to break down and tell her the truth straight away! I get why Maddie cracked as much as she did last night. I have to stay strong, though, and forcibly pull myself together.
He says, “Momma said it was alright to wear the dress, or any dress, for that matter. I’m not sure I can, though. I’m not sure it’s right…”
I put both hands on his shoulders and squeeze. I say firmly, “Look at me, Alexander Jorden! If you feel right in a dress, then you are right in a dress! Do me a favor. Go put on that dress and the shoes and come in here. If you do that, look me in the eye, and honestly tell me that it is not right for you then we will put the dress away and never mention it again. Deal?”
He hesitates, but finally gets up without a word and goes into his mother’s room.
Maddie gives me a look and admonishes me, “And you were chastising me?”
I sigh, “I know. I’m sorry. I see why you wavered.”
A few minutes later, Alex…Lexi comes in, walking as gracefully in those heels as ever. I nearly drop my cup of coffee, but simply nod and say, “Sit down, Alex, and tell me how you feel.”
She gracefully sits after sweeping her dress under her, then crosses her ankles and folds her hands in her lap—just like Lexi would always do. It is obvious she does it without thinking. She says, “Well, as long as I’m dressed like this, I think you should call me Lexi. Momma made me promise that I wouldn’t ask that lightly and I’m not. Fact is, I don’t feel like a ‘guy in a dress’. I’m not sure how I feel—other than…so right…and just as wrong. So, I can’t say that it doesn’t feel right to be in the dress. But I still don’t know that it is right that I feel this way.”
I take a sip of the fresh coffee that Mads has just poured and curse as I burn my tongue. I nurse it for a second and say, “OK, Lexi. Let’s take it one step at a time. Pretend for a moment that you don’t have those doubts. Just go with that inner feeling that it feels right and ignore the crap that your father has tried to beat into you. If you focus on your innermost desire, what would you like to do right now?”
She closes her eyes and silently thinks for several minutes. She keeps them closed and whispers in a barely audible voice, “I would put on pretty underwear and get made up. I would paint my nails and let my hair down. I would sing and dance in the flowers. I would never dress like a boy again.”
He shudders and tears stream down his face as he opens his eyes and moans, “But I can’t. It…it…it isn’t right…”
He quietly gets up and graciously walks into Maddie’s room where he takes off the dress, carefully hangs it in the closet, and places the shoes with the others. He comes back in and sits at the table in his boy’s clothes and does not mention the dress again. The haunted look in his eyes does not fade, though.
MADDIE
My heart breaks when I see my child sitting there with a painfully haunted look in his eye. I am not sure whether I am once again to blame for this. Should I have left it alone last night and not mentioned the dress? Was he just not ready? I cannot believe so. I have to believe that he will continue to process this and will wake up from this never-ending nightmare. He may wake up and legitimately not want anything to do with Lexi, but based on what he just said, I do not think so.
As promised, neither April nor I mention the dress again. It tears at me and I know deep down it is tearing at Alex, but he will have to come to grips with it on his own—or ask for help. I truly believe that after a couple of days of thinking about it, something will give. I just hope it will give gracefully.
ALEX
My heart feels like it is going to rip apart. I have no idea why that dress is calling to me in that way. I don’t believe that Daddy was right in anything and especially not in his bigoted beliefs. But I also know that there is not something right about me, Alex, wanting to wear that dress—or any other one for that matter. And those shoes… They are like a sweet Siren’s song luring me under her spell. There is something not right with me—Alex—wanting that. If I really were Lexi, then maybe, but I am not. I can pretend that I am, to make it feel right to wear the dress and shoes, but it is a lie. I hear a strangely familiar voice, I think it is some friend of Daddy’s, say, “Lexi does not exist."
I do my best to fight the tears, but one escapes and rolls down my cheek in spite of my efforts. I wipe it off and ignore the pain in my head.
Broken! - Chapter 7
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(All images and artwork are property of and copyrighted by Shauna J. Rousseau.)
JEWEL
I finish tying my belt and feel the excitement and anticipation of another class building in me. Friday evening classes are always the most fun!
It has been two weeks since Momma came home from her early morning trip to Maddie’s. No one will talk about what happened that morning, but Alex has been different since then. He has become more serious and reserved again. He was just starting to loosen up and let a little Lexi out. Whatever happened that morning bottled her up again tighter than a genie after the third wish.
I sigh and check myself in the mirror, then leave the girl’s locker room and join Alex who is already on the mat with Amy.
Alex and I spar for about thirty minutes, practicing our defensive moves with Amy watching us closely. Alex is having issues with one particular move and Amy says, “JuJu, let me step in a minute.”
I step to the side of the mat and she steps in front of Alex and slowly demonstrates the move. Then she says, “I’m going to step in and attack. I want you to counter, then I’m going to throw you. Don’t worry, it will be a slow throw and you know how to fall. After we’re done, I will do the same with JuJu. I want you both to watch and critique the other, OK?”
We both nod and Amy ‘attacks’ Alex. He successfully ‘defends’ himself, then she has him on her shoulder and is going into a judo throw before he knows what happens. I am watching it and I can barely keep up. I think he is expecting a hip throw and it catches him by surprise. He does a funny twist and Amy’s grip slips. He falls and tries to roll, but unfortunately, he lands on his head. Hard.
ALEX
I groan. My head hurts. It is pounding and it is pitch black. I can hear faint voices like people talking far off in the distance. They sort of fade in and out a bit, then I distinctly hear JuJu along with some other unknown people. I latch on to her voice and focus hard on it. I sort of follow it like I am on some path through the fog to the light.
My eyes flutter open and JuJu exclaims, “Alex! Thank goodness! Are you OK?”
I look at her confused and gripe, “My head hurts, but why are you calling me Alex?”
It is her turn to look confused. A girl in a kimono looks concerned. I do not remember starting martial arts; when did JuJu talk me into this? I know it is all she can talk about and it is clear from the fact that JuJu and I are both wearing a kimono, too, that she must have somehow convinced both April and me. The girl says, “Stay right there and don’t move! We need to make sure you don’ have any head or neck injuries. But tell me, what else would she call you?”
I carefully raise my hands to my head and rub it. The girl with the brown belt quickly pins them down to my side and is looking at me with obvious concern—and confusion. I am as confused as she is. I do not understand why my nails are not pink like JuJu’s. We always paint them the same color. I focus back on the girl and say, “Well, by my real name, of course. Lexi. Or Alexis, if you must. I haven’t gone by Alex in over a year. Who are you, by the way? Where am I?”
I hear JuJu gasp. I am still totally confused.
A man that must be the Sensei by the way he is dressed says, “Ummm, Al…Lexi. You are in my dojo. You don’t remember that—or Amy? Do you remember me? You weren’t out long—only about a minute. But any amount of time is too much.”
I want to shake my head, but JuJu is holding it still at the girl’s insistence. I try to remember what is going on, but the last thing I remember is goofing around with JuJu last night. I just got a new dress and shoes and we were dancing our legs off to some old CDs of Momma’s.
A minute later, a guy in a kimono comes running in with a bag. He has a black belt and I guess that he is an E.M.T., or a doctor or something. He must have had the bag in his car. Some other guys in kimonos bring over a backboard. The black belt guy puts one of those neck brace collar things around my neck and then straps me to the board before giving me a quick once-over. He says, “I can’t see any obvious signs of a concussion, but the loss of consciousness and lapse in memory is certainly concerning. What is the last thing you remember, Al…Lexi?”
I sigh and wonder why people keep calling me Alexi. Sure, my name is Alexis, but I just go by Lexi, not Alex or Alexi. I say, “I guess the last thing I can clearly remember is goofing around with JuJu last night. We were at her house and I had on my new dress and shoes. We were dancing around to some of my Momma’s old CDs that I had brought with me.”
JuJu gasps and says, “Lexi, that was over a year ago!”
The girl in the brown belt, Amy I guess, looks distraught and says, “I called April and she’s on her way. She’ll be here in a few minutes. She said she would let Maddie know. I couldn’t get ahold of her.”
April comes rushing in a few minutes later and has a really worried look on her face. JuJu catches her and whispers something to her before she can come over to where they have me—still firmly strapped down on the backboard.
She smiles and says, “How are you feeling, Lexi? I hear you had a hard bump to the head?”
I try to nod, but the brace and head straps won’t let me, so I just say, “Yeah, I guess it knocked me out a minute or so and now everyone is freaked out and JuJu says the last thing I remember was over a year ago!”
She starts looking me over and uses the same light the guy did to look in my eyes. She says, “Well, I agree with George. In spite of losing consciousness, I don’t see any immediate signs of a concussion other than your loss of memory, which is of course very concerning. We’ll need to get you to the hospital for a full checkup. I’m afraid you won’t get much sleep tonight, young lady.”
At that moment, Momma bursts in and JuJu catches her, too, and whispers something. Momma looks shocked and comes over and asks, “Are you OK, Sweetheart?”
April says, “She seems OK other than her memory loss. We’ll need to get her to the hospital and observe her tonight. I think it should be a short-term memory loss this time. When her memories come back, it should be very interesting.”
I catch her comment about memory loss this time and wonder what she means, but I don’t get a chance to ask before the conversation moves on.
MADDIE
Amy takes me by side and says, “I am so sorry, Mrs. Jorden! My hand just slipped. It’s completely my fault!”
I give her a hug and say, “It’s OK, Amy. You have to expect things to happen in a sport like this. I don’t blame you. You may have done us a strange favor, actually.”
She gives me an odd look and I explain, “You noticed she is calling herself Lexi?”
She nods and says, “And you’re calling her ‘her’ like that’s normal.”
I sigh and glance over at my child. April is talking to her and still checking her out and I am not panicked knowing she is in her care. I say, “Alex was beaten severely by his father—or, I should say, Lexi was severely beaten by her bastard of a father and put into a coma because of who she was…is. When she finally came to, Alex couldn’t remember Lexi… Of course, you know that Alex was born in a boy’s body. Now it seems that Lexi is back. I know this is confusing. It is to me, too. Especially since Lexi now doesn’t seem to remember being Alex for the past several months and her last memory is prior to her…father…beating her up.”
Her eyes are bugging out and she sighs, “I think I just got dropped on my head—that made it hurt so much. But let me get this straight. Alex—or Lexi—was beaten by his…her father and put in a coma? No wonder he…she wants to learn martial arts!”
I sigh, “Actually that was JuJu that started that. At the time they started, Alex didn’t remember getting beat up. I’m grateful that she will be able to defend herself if for some unthinkable reason her father ever gets out.”
Amy hugs me and says, “I will talk to Sensei. We will take a special interest in those two. We have some special one-on-one classes that go beyond just the sport that I think will be good for them. After you get Al…Lexi’s head straightened back out!”
I smile and thank her profusely, “Thank you so much, Amy. I need to go get in the ambulance with Lexi. Is it OK if I leave my car parked in your lot?”
She says, “If you would like, I can bring it to the hospital and hitch a ride with Sensei back here for mine. We’ll both be going to the hospital anyway.”
I say, “You don’t have to do that. I know there really isn’t anything they can do other than check that there isn’t any hidden swelling. Other than that, it’s just a waiting game. One that we’ve been playing for well over a year now.”
Amy says, “Nonsense! We will be there! Just let me borrow your keys?”
I sigh in resignation and smile. I dig in my purse and hand her my keys, “It’s the red Subaru. Thanks, Amy!”
I rush over to Lexi; they are just loading her, on the backboard, onto a gurney for the trip to the hospital. She just keeps complaining that she can walk and doesn’t need to be strapped down or have the stupid collar around her neck.
April just hugs me and says, “I’ll meet you over there.”
LEXI
I watch the heart monitor make its little squiggly line, then repeat itself over and over. There is not much else to do. Momma is out in the hall talking to April and Dr. Abernathy.
The short ride in the ambulance was uneventful but interesting. I have never been in an ambulance before, that I can remember anyways. Being strapped down and wearing the neck brace was uncomfortable, but I guess I understand why they thought I might need all that. The MRI they gave me when we arrived dispelled any concerns of a neck injury, so at least I am rid of the brace and can move freely in the bed. I guess they are discussing the rest now, since I still have no memory of the last year—or so it seems. I still am not sure about April’s comment about losing my memory this time, and still have not had a chance to ask.
In any case, the last thing I can currently remember was supposedly over a year ago. As far as I can recollect, I am twelve and just got Dr. Smythe, April, to officially approve my status as transgendered a few weeks ago. As far as I am concerned, my name is Alexis Rose Jorden. ‘Rose’ in honor of my Great Grandmother on Momma’s side. I am looking forward to starting hormone blockers and having my name and gender officially changed. Of course, I am begging for female hormones, but know that won’t happen any time soon. My thirteenth birthday is coming up, and I may be able to start going to school with my best friend JuJu, who is April’s daughter.
Oh, and Momma just finalized her divorce from Daddy and we have moved out because he abuses her. While that makes me sad on the one hand, I am relieved. He is not at all happy with me being transgendered—something he denies even exists—and his verbal abuse towards me is getting worse. He scares me—and that Reverend Bigotti that he made me talk to is totally whacko. I hate to say it, but I am glad he doesn’t know where we are.
It is really weird knowing that a whole year has gone by that I can’t remember. Other than turning thirteen—and almost being fourteen—and starting Jiu Jitsu, what am I missing?
APRIL
“So, what do you think, Gerri,” I ask Dr. Abernathy, the radiologist that conducted the MRI. I know you found no neck or back injury, but what about brain swelling?”
She shakes her head and says, “No, there is no physical sign of serious injury that would account for the amnesia. She should be fine—physically, anyway. A few bruises, but nothing else. It seems she has her fair share of those from ‘regular’ practice injuries, anyway.”
I nod and say, “I’m still hopeful that this time it will be short-lived and her memories, all of them, will now come back. We have to be prepared for one shaken up little girl at that point. Of course, there is still the chance that once she remembers the attacks that the trauma will create enough angst that she buries herself again and Alex will take back over. Until she has all of her faculties, it will be hard to determine what the actual long-term damage her father inflicted on her will be. I’m a little worried there could even be some Dissociative Identity Disorder or DID.”
Maddie pales, then sighs and says, “This see-sawing is not good for any of us. I will be happy when my child is just able to settle on one path with all of her or his faculties intact. I know you can’t know this, Love, but when do you think her memories might return? I feel so helpless, right now.”
I shrug and say, “If I knew that, I would be sitting on a Golden Throne, somewhere. My feeling, though, is that the dam is about to break. I just have the feeling that it won’t be long.”
I look at Gerri and ask, “So, you see no concern with her sleeping, then?”
She shakes her head and says, “No, not really. We will need to confer with her attending physician, Frank Mayer, but I can’t see that he would have any concerns, either. I assume that she will be able to go home in the morning if there are no unforeseen complications.”
I nod and see Frank coming our way. He smiles and says, “Ladies! Let’s go in and have a talk with Lexi, shall we? Gerri, do you want to come along?”
She shakes her head and says, “No, I have reports to write up. Just let me know if you need me.”
Frank nods and turns to open the door. He motions for Maddie and me to go first, then enters Lexi’s room after us.
He smiles at Lexi and says, “Hi, Lexi. I’m Dr. Mayer and I just want to let you know that your tests came back fine—at least physically. There’s no sign of concussion, so we’ll let you sleep tonight and just monitor your vitals. Now, that doesn’t explain your memory loss, but that is Dr. Smythe’s arena and since you’re already under her care, we’ll leave that to her, OK?” He winks and says, “If nothing comes up, I think we can let you go home in the morning. Sound good?”
She nods and says, “Yes. Thank you, Doctor. It’s rather disconcerting not being able to remember the last year, though. You don’t think Daddy will be able to find us here, do you? After that last forced meeting with that Reverend Bigotti weirdo, I really don’t want to encounter him—or his wrath.”
He looks at me in confusion as to what to say and I jump in, “No, Lexi. He won’t find you or your Momma here. You’re safe.”
I look at Maddie and she nods. I say, “It’s been a long day, Love. Why don’t you try and get some rest? Your Momma will stay in here with you and I will go let your Sensei and Amy know you’re OK so they can go home. I know JuJu must be chomping at the bit to come in, too.”
I look at Frank and ask, “Is it OK for her to come in for a minute if Lexi promises to go to sleep right after that?”
He smiles and says, “I think that can be arranged.”
I look at Lexi and ask, “Deal?”
She grins and says, “Deal!”
MADDIE
I am sitting next to the bed, holding Lexi’s hand, when JuJu bursts into the room and nearly jumps in the bed with her. She giggles and embraces her in a big sisterly hug.
She exclaims, “Lexi! I hear you don’t have a concussion. Way to get out of practicing defensive moves!”
Lexi gets a confused look on her face and JuJu says, “I guess that makes no sense to you right now. It will though, soon! I just know it! Your memory is going to be back in no time!”
I say, “I’ll give you two just a few minutes to chatter then Lexi needs to get to sleep. OK, JuJu? I’m going to go get a cup of what they call coffee around here. When I get back, it’s lights out!”
JuJu nods and giggles, “Of course! But don’t hurry back!”
I go down the hall to the nurses’ station and pour myself a cup of coffee, then busy myself by making a fresh pot for them—about three times stronger than what I got. About ten minutes later, I return to Lexi’s room and find April gathering up her daughter.
I give her a hug and a quick kiss and feel Lexi’s surprised look burning into the back of my head. I had forgotten that she didn’t remember our last slipup. I sigh and say, “We’ll talk in the morning, Love. Go to sleep. I’ll be right back in.”
I follow April and JuJu out into the hall and sigh, “It’s getting impossible to remember what timeline we’re in. This is worse than someone changing history through time travel!”
April laughs and says, “No worries, Love. She was going to realize our status, one way or the other, soon enough. Go back in there and give her my love!”
I give her another quick kiss and hug JuJu before I take a deep breath and go back into the darkened room. I can tell Lexi is still awake by the light of the monitors and say quietly, “Try and get some sleep, Love.”
She says, “So what else have I missed, Momma? You and Aunt April are an item? What else?”
I sigh and say, “You didn’t really miss that, Hon. You just don’t remember it at the moment. Yes, April and I are in love and would like to get married sometime in the future. Would that bother you?”
She shakes her head and says, “No. Why would it? I really like April and having JuJu as a real sister would be cool. I just hate not remembering!”
I smile and say, “Maybe if you get some sleep it will help restore your memories. Why don’t you give it a try?”
She giggles and says, “I’m not sleepy, Momma, and that coffee smells good. I can almost taste it—how is that possible?”
I say, “Well, it’s kind of weak—no make that very weak. Anyway, I’ve been letting you drink a little here and there. If you close your eyes and get some sleep, I might let you have some when we get home tomorrow. To copy April’s phrase… Deal?”
She smiles and nods, then says, “OK, sure. I’ll close my eyes, but I won’t fall asleep!”
I wait about five minutes and pull the covers up over her. I kiss her forehead and smile. She is sound asleep.
LEXI
I hug JuJu and April as we leave. Momma just came to pick me up at their house and I am still out of breath from dancing and just goofing around and having fun. I haven’t laughed so much in ages!
I follow Momma to the car, and she smiles as I sing some of the songs from her old CDs that JuJu and I had been dancing to.
We arrive at the house and Momma pushes the button to open the garage door. She drives in and as we get out, Daddy surprises us by rushing in through the open door. He isn’t supposed to know where we are! Where did he come from?
He grabs Momma and twists her arm hard, and I hear a loud snap; then he hits her in the face, and I hear a crack. It knocks her back into the car and she crumples to the ground. I think she is out cold.
I quickly run inside and try to hide—trying hard not to whimper. He follows me in, smashing anything in his way. He catches up and grabs me, then starts slapping me and yelling that I am his son and he will not tolerate me being a fagot. He says something about going to see Reverend Bigotti again. I try to fight back. I kick and scratch and sob that I am a girl—his daughter.
Something in him snaps and he throws me to the floor. I feel my arm break as he does. He then starts kicking me in the head with his cowboy boots.
The last thing I remember is the sound of sirens and him leaving me there in a pitiful broken heap while he tries to run. I can barely see the policewoman tackle him with my eyes already nearly completely swollen shut. Thankfully, everything turns black.
I hear sounds… Momma talking… It is so far away… I seem to be floating in some weird foggy space… I have no sense of time or of where I am. I just sort of seem to ‘be’…
I wake up in the hospital and don’t remember what has happened. I just know that I am Alex and have this strange feeling that I need to be glad that I am alive.
I don’t remember April or JuJu. I don’t remember Lexi.
The events of the next year continue to unfold until I am back at the Dojo and Amy is throwing me.
I wake up as Lexi on the floor…
MADDIE
I try my best to stay awake for a bit, but this weak coffee has no kick. I drift off to sleep sitting in the chair next to her bed and holding her hand. The last thing I notice is her stirring restlessly in her sleep and my heart aches for her.
I am suddenly awakened by Lexi jerking around and crying out in terror, “Momma!”
My eyes snap open and I see my child lying in the hospital bed in a fetal position and sobbing. I quickly get into the bed with her and pull her into a hug. I gently stroke her hair while making soothing sounds to try and calm her down.
She is totally distraught and just moans between sobs, “I remember, Momma. I remember everything! He…he…beat me! It hurt so bad! I couldn’t stop him! I tried! You were hurt, too! I…”
I shoosh her and say, “We both tried, Love. He surprised us both and attacked us when we least expected it. Neither of us could stop him. I was just awake enough after he beat me and left me to come after you that I was able to call 911. There was a police car the next block over that was able to quickly respond and arrived within minutes. I’m certain that is what saved both of our lives that night. I am so thankful for those officers being there for us.”
She wails, “How could he, Momma? How could he hurt us like that? I never did anything to him. I wanted to be a good daughter to him, but he didn’t want me as his daughter. Only his son…”
I sigh and say, “Yes, he can’t understand that there are things that aren’t black and white when it comes to gender and sexual orientation—or that people can be born in the wrong body when it comes to biological sex. His ‘friends’ only reinforce those bigoted views and how to handle what they perceive as perverts.”
I hold her tight and prod, “So, you remember everything back to before your coma and after?”
She nods in my shoulder and says in a muffled, sniffly voice, “I even remember bits and pieces from the coma. It all came back to me in my dreams last night. I remember it all vividly.”
I look at the clock and see it is 4:00 a.m. and smile. I say, “It is still last night. I suppose you’re not going to get back to sleep now, though. Let me see if there is a nurse around. You’re probably hungry since you didn’t really get to eat last night.”
Her stomach growls as if in response and she says, “I could eat a horse, if it wouldn’t mess up the hard work I have put into losing all that weight that I gained. I still can’t believe I let myself go that badly!”
I smile and say, “I’ll be right back.”
I gently disengage myself from her desperately tight hug and go out to the nurses’ station. I find the night nurse on duty and ask if it is possible to get her something to snack on. She promises to get her something and I start walking back to her room. As I do, I text April, “She remembers everything!”
I wipe the tears of relief from my eyes and go back into her room. She is pale and still has a haunted look in her eyes. I know the memories are tearing at her, but at least she has them! I take a steadying breath and say, “OK, Love. The nurse promised to bring you something. How do you feel, otherwise?”
She sighs and says, “Dejected—and terrified. But nothing a nice day of pampering at the spa wouldn’t help!”
I giggle in spite of myself and ask, “So, I suppose that I means my daughter is back to stay?”
She sniffles and grabs a Kleenex to wipe her nose, then asks shrewdly, “Well, yes? Am I supposed to change who I am because my sperm donor is an idiot?”
I laugh out loud and squeeze her in another tight hug. “No, Love,” I sigh in contentment. “Now you’re sounding more like my old Lexi. Welcome back to the living, Love!”
APRIL
I hurry to the hospital as soon as I see the text, which is at 5:00 a.m. I just pull JuJu out of bed and put her in the car as soon as she is out of her pajamas and in a dress, totally confused as to what is going on. I quickly grab a few things from her closet on my way out. I make it to the hospital in record time.
We walk into the hospital room to find Lexi just finishing up a cup of chocolate pudding and sipping on a steaming cup of coffee. She looks alert and only a slight bit pale.
I hurry over and give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek to go with my, “Good morning, Sweetheart!” I smile at her and while a still-sleepy and confused JuJu is hugging her, I hug Mads and give her a good morning kiss.
Finally, I look back at her and say, “So, I hear that you finally remember everything, Lexi. It is still Lexi, right?”
She grins and says, “You know it, April! There’s no way my crappy sperm donor is going to keep me from being myself. I almost let him win when I couldn’t remember who I really was because of his abuse. Well, this girl is over him!”
I go hug her fiercely and say, “You go, girl!” Then, I say in a much quieter and more serious voice, “Now, tell me how you really feel.”
Her face saddens and she says in a very quiet voice, “I feel sick that he would do that to me…to us. I hate that I buried that somewhere for so long, but I can sort of understand it. It’s all so hard to process. I do feel that I am Lexi, but I have to wonder why Alex surfaced for so long—and I know he is not completely gone. He’s in the back of my mind still—making me doubt myself.”
I fight a sigh. The way she is describing ‘Alex’ and ‘Lexi’ as separate people is something we will have to discuss later. They are one and the same—just different sides of the coin. I am still worried about possible DID—all because of that bastard! Damn him to Hell!
I hug her again and say, “Well, you have your Momma, JuJu, and me. Together, we’re going to be a family and, together, we’re going to beat this demon your father has forced on you into full submission. Deal?”
She smiles and hugs me back as she whispers, “Deal.” She unashamedly wipes the tears from her eyes, and I fight my own. I sigh in relief that things are finally moving in a forward direction and say, “I’m going to go see if I can get you an early release and I say we all go get some real breakfast. Sound like a plan?”
I get three loud yesses and grin.
Broken! - Chapter 8 (Final)
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(All images and artwork are property of and copyrighted by Shauna J. Rousseau.)
JEWEL
I want to jump for joy when I hear that I have Lexi back for good! Don’t get me wrong, Alex was OK. I mean, they are one and the same person, after all, but Lexi is just more fun!
Momma goes out to talk to the nurse and comes back in after a few minutes with a big smile on her face. She says, “OK, I talked to the nurse, who called the attending, and they’re OK signing Lexi out to our care. Let’s get out of here and go eat!”
Maddie sighs, “Yes! Real coffee!”
Momma giggles and goes over and grabs the bag that she had brought with her. She hands it to Lexi with a smile and says, “I thought you might like something a little more appropriate to wear than your kimono or that hospital gown.” She winks.
Lexi opens the bag and lets out a little scream. It is one of the dresses that I got a few weeks back when out shopping with ‘Alex’. I have not even had a chance to wear it yet and it still has the tags on it.
She nods and says, “Thank you, April!” She digs further into the bag to find a full set of lingerie and a nice pair of my three-and-a-half-inch stiletto heels.
I help her take the tags off the dress and then give her a mock serious look. “This is only for this emergency! Don’t get any future thoughts of just borrowing whatever you want without asking first, Sis,” I jokingly exclaim, and we all laugh.
Momma and Maddie go out in the hall to finish up the hospital discharge paperwork and I help Lexi get dressed. By the time they come back in, Lexi is looking her normal totally girly-girl self and is absolutely giddy in her, well my, dress and heels. The dress fits her reasonably well, but my shoes are about a size too big for her. At least we were able to just tighten the strap and she will not be in danger of tripping or walking out of them. Now, all she needs is just a little makeup—but, then again, so do I. It is still way too early to be up on a Saturday morning!
Lexi seems to have put her bad thoughts aside for the time being and almost dances down the hallway and out the hospital entrance. Her mood is totally contagious, and I hook her arm in mine and we skip out to the car laughing the whole way. The heels are totally not a problem for her. It is like she never quit wearing them.
After a grand breakfast at our favorite local breakfast joint, we all go back home and sit in the living room. Lexi sits demurely on the couch with her legs carefully tucked up under her—just like she had not been missing in action for a year. She leans up against Maddie, who is sitting on the couch with her.
I sit next to Momma on the love seat and look at Lexi. I smile and say, “It’s good to have you back, Lexi. I was afraid you would never remember enough to come back—or at least enough to decide whether you would or not.”
She sighs and says, “Well, I always had it in the back of my mind that something was off. But what Daddy did to me was making me block my memories and that was blocking me being able to admit that I’m a girl. Anytime I would get even close to that thought, I would end up with a splitting headache—or worse!”
Momma smiles and says, “Well, we all hope those headaches will all disappear now that you’re able to openly confront your demons!”
Maddie jumps in and says, “And your father got twenty years in prison for attempted murder, assault and battery, and child abuse. It would have been more, but we didn’t have your actual testimony and there were no witnesses to him beating you. He claimed you tripped when he was chasing you to ‘calm you down’. He almost beat the rap, but the prosecutor, young as he was, was able to make a good case with my testimony and your obvious injuries. Unfortunately, we couldn’t get anything to stick on ‘Reverend’ Bigotti, since you weren’t able to tie him into the whole thing and your father would not give him up—not even for a shorter sentence.”
Poor Lexi is shaking as Maddie explains all of this, so Momma changes the subject. She gives her a hug and says, “Love, you now know that your Momma and I are…, well, … in love. I hope you are OK with that. I can promise you that, no matter our love, we will honor your wishes the best we can. We can’t say that if you have a problem with our love that we will ‘let it go’, but we can promise to talk about it.”
Lexi is still shaken, but responds with a tight smile, “Well, April…Momma-cita…I have no problem with this…and…as far as I know, neither does JuJu, so…”
Momma laughs and says, “Mamacita? Nice try, Love! OK, I love being called ‘Hot’, but…anyway, I take that as an endorsement of your Momma’s and my love...”
I splutter, “Momma, you know that Lexi and I are fully onboard with you and Momma-April getting together. We’re in love as sisters and ready to be a family!”
Lexi nods and murmurs, “What she said…”
Both Mommas giggle and my Momma—maybe there is something to distinguishing her with Mamacita —looks at Lexi and says, “OK, Hon, there are some things we need to discuss. Your Momma and I had to make some decisions about your health when you were stuck in Alex mode that we need to confirm you want now that you are back in Lexi mode. Do you want to talk about them in private? We can go to your room…”
LEXI
I get a worried look on my face and shake my head. I have no idea what she is about to divulge, but I don’t mind Momma being in on the discussion, since I am sure she was in on the decision. And I cannot see a good reason for JuJu to be excluded from the conversation. I say as much, “No, Mamacita, I’m fine with just openly talking about it here. Please don’t tell me that I started male puberty! That would be awful!” Alex rattles his cage at that thought and tries to interject doubt that it would be so bad.
She gives me a stern look when I call her ‘Mamacita’ again. She shakes her head and says, “I guess that’s going to stick, now? You have a real knack of doing that.” She looks at JuJu and winks. Then she looks back at me and gets serious. She allays my worst fear, “No, Love, you haven’t started male puberty. We had to deceive you as Alex. We couldn’t tell ‘him’ that ‘you’ are transgendered. Anyway, your Momma and I decided it was best to start you on hormone blockers, as planned—just in case. So, you’re safe. I’m sorry we had to deceive you, though.”
I feel a rush of relief pour through my body and I jump up and hug her. I whisper in her ear, “I am so happy you did!” I pull back and throw out a long shot, “I don’t suppose you started me on real hormones? Or, if not, that I can start now?”
I feel Alex pounding in my head and screaming that he is still here—that he won’t give up. He shouts, “Dad was right—you know it! You heard what Reverend Bigotti said—we will go to Hell if Lexi wins!”
She gives me a ‘look’ and then giggles, “Nice try! No, Hon. Nothing has changed there. If anything, I’m more convinced than ever that we should wait. We need to be absolutely sure that your life as Alex is permanently a thing of the past.”
I feel my face fall in disappointment as I picture having to wait until I am eighteen to start my puberty. Alex sighs in relief.
She continues, “I’m still fully open to evaluating where we are at and starting you on hormones when you turn sixteen if that’s still what you want. But the fact that you totally repressed your Lexi side and your Alex side completely took over still leaves the question open in my mind that that is what your innermost self really wants. I’m not so sure Alex is ready to give up.”
I sigh and Alex just says, “See! I told you! I’m not leaving!” I tighten my clamp on him—there is no way I am voluntarily letting him back out of his cage. He vows that he will get out—and win, like he did when Dad beat some sense into us.
I say, “Well, the other way to look at that is I—Lexi—totally won out, again. Sure, Alex is a part of me. He always will be, but as opposed to before, I can remember him, and he is not fighting to come out.” I think to myself, “At least not that I’m going to admit to!” I continue out loud, “As Lexi, I was fighting to come out when Alex was in control and didn’t remember me—I just didn’t know it. Daddy really messed with my mind—but he has not exorcised me. I am Lexi and I am proud of it! Alex is just now a figment of Daddy’s wishes.”
Alex screams in my head out of total frustration that I won’t let him speak.
JuJu comes over and hugs me and Momma wipes a tear from her eye. I can tell that I still haven’t convinced Mamacita, though. She nods and says, “Be that as it may, Love. We will wait. If it’s really what you want, then waiting for it won’t be easy, but worth it, don’t you agree?”
I nod to placate her, but there is no way that I agree. I smile as best I can and say, “Sure, Mamacita. I can’t wait to get it started, though.”
I also vow that I will start my puberty as soon as I can make it happen. JuJu started right on time, like most girls, at twelve. I am already fourteen, which is already putting me way on the backend tail of the curve. I will just have to put my high IQ and the internet to proper use.
I hear ‘Alex’ rattle his cage and scream in my head, “I will get out and you will regret doing something stupid!”
I think to myself, “Shut up, Alex! A few months of proper female hormones from the internet will certainly shut you up. If anyone is getting exorcised, it’s you! Daddy will not win! I learned a thing or two from that freak Bigotti on dealing with the likes of you!”
I fake a yawn and say, “I’m really tired. I think I’m going to go to my room and rest. Maybe I’ll even take a nap. Is that OK?”
Momma hugs me and says, “I’m beat, too. A nap sounds perfect! Go ahead, Hon!”
I hug everyone and go to my room. As I step in, I stop dead in my tracks. All my things are gone. I look around and groan. As Lexi, I of course went into my old room—which is now the ‘guestroom’. I grumble and go into ‘my’ room and curse Alex under my breath. I grab the laptop from the desk and return to my real room.
I lay down on the bed and open the laptop. I log on and curse again under my breath. Of course, there is nothing left on it from before my coma since it must have been wiped to hide me from Alex. All my TG resources are gone. One more thing to hold against Alex. I grimace and start a search for ‘Transgender’, male-to-female’, and ‘HRT’. Of course, I get a lot of hits, but I quickly narrow those down to some of the sites that I remember I had trusted and bookmarked before. I scan through some of the blogs and refresh my list of several sources of drugs that I can easily get without question.
I know I don’t want anything oral, but my first choice of an implant is out of the question, since I cannot do that myself. I maybe could do injections myself, but decide there are too many risks for that, as well. That leaves me with either transdermal patches or gels and creams. Of the two, I would prefer the patches for their ease of use but am afraid that someone might actually see them on me. So, that leaves gels or creams. Not ideal in terms of dosage consistency, but I will just have to make it work.
Since I don’t need to worry about blocking my male hormones anymore with April taking care of that—thank goodness—I focus on sources of estrogen and progesterone. I go to the same source on the dark web that I used to get my blockers before my coma when April had not yet officially approved them. It is inexpensive and has what I need—actual hormones and not some plant-based pseudo promise. Normally, I wouldn’t trust the dark web on this, but I have some connections that I trust and they vouch for the legitimacy of the products from this source—as long as I don’t question the legality. There is the usual promise that the products will be shipped discretely, and I decide to chance it. I order enough to last a year, which, given the amount of gel I will be using every day, amounts to three large tubes of a mixture of the necessary hormones. I check my PayPal account and confirm that I have enough to cover the cost—those stock trades I did back before my coma really paid off. I place the order with a contented grin and file everything away in a secure and encrypted cloud location that I had also set up before my coma, remove any traces of the actions in the laptop’s history, and close it with a sigh.
I stretch and lay back on the bed that I have not slept in for over a year. Soon enough, I am sound asleep.
Alex tries to fight his way out of his prison in my dreams, but I fight back and promise him that the hormones will ban him forever from my life. He vows that he will never give up and that he will take back over. The internal struggle makes me toss and turn in my sleep. Alex is a product of Daddy. Daddy is wrong. Alex is bad. He will not win!
Using some of the ‘lessons’ that ‘Reverend’ Bigotti forced on me to suppress Lexi, I push him back into his cage. I ignore him as he fruitlessly continues to rattle his cage and scream that he will be back and finally slip into a quiet, dreamless sleep with a smile on my face.
Maddie
April, JuJu, and I talk for a little while longer about all that has transpired and make plans to get all of Lexi’s things out of the attic. They have some matters to take care of and will come back for pizza later this afternoon, so that we can move Lexi back into her old room.
After they leave, I go upstairs to look in on my daughter and am surprised to find the door closed to her old room. I peek into the room that Alex has been using for the last year and find it empty. I quietly crack the door to Lexi’s old room and see her sound asleep on the bed. She is tossing and turning, like she is having a bad dream, and mumbling something about Alex and Reverend Bigotti. She cries out and I am about to go in and comfort her when she suddenly turns over and settles into a quiet slumber.
I sigh and quietly close the door. It seems her nightmares are not over. I shake my head and wonder if my child will ever find peace. I curse my ex-husband and find myself wishing that just maybe there might be some individuals in the prison that do not like child-beaters and give him a taste of his own medicine. I know that is wrong of me, but I cannot help feeling that way.
Jeremy
I gingerly sit on the bench. That bitch wife of mine will pay for what I’ve been going through this past year! How dare she question my methods of protecting my son from her perverted ideas and influence. I should have slapped her around some more.
I rub my breasts and cringe. I still don’t understand how Rupert gets away with what he does around here. When he found out what I was in for, he classified me as a ‘prison bitch’. In his words, being perverted is genetic and since I had to ‘treat’ my son for being a pervert, I must have just been doing it to cover up for my own issues. And he has it on ‘good authority’ that you just cannot treat being perverted, so ‘we may as well make good use of it’. Since my son considered himself a girl, then that must be my issue, too.
Rupert was a high-level mobster on the outside and is the most powerful inmate in this prison and whatever he says goes. This is a privately run prison and corruption runs abound. So, I did not have a chance with the other prisoners—and they were happy to have another ‘bitch’. The first time they held me down and took turns filling me, I could not sit for a week. Not that they gave me time to heal.
On my second day here, barely able to walk, I was called to the medical station and Nurse Jones started my weekly shot routine. Somehow, Rupert pays her off—or has her paid from the outside—and the prison bitches (there are currently ten of us) are put on hormone blockers and strong doses of feminizing hormones. According to her on my last visit, I will now likely never gain the use of my testicles back after having been on the combination for a full year now—even if by some miracle Rupert reclassified me. Which is highly unlikely.
Then this last round, she just put these implants in me so that I will not have to get the weekly shots anymore. She said that they are five-year implants. There is supposedly no way to remove them now that they are in. The ‘blocker’ one is some sort of new type that is still experimental on the ‘outside’—it seems I ‘signed up’ to be in the trial and Rupert will get the trial money for getting me in. The way she explained it is that it does not actually block the effects of testosterone—it somehow converts it all to estrogen. The more testosterone I have, the more estrogen will be produced—so even if I could get my hands on some steroids, it would not do me any good. Quite the opposite, actually.
I fight the tears—I still get emotional. I rub my tits again—I am nearly a full B-cup and my nipples are large and sensitive. Nurse Jones says those are there to stay now, too—and will likely still increase another cup, or so. I gingerly move on the bench—my ass is sore from a particularly rough night last night. There were two new inmates brought in from across state and Rupert seems to know them. I was given to them to share. I know better than to fight anymore.
That bitch wife of mine will pay! And that little pervert son of mine, too!
I look up as Greg, my attorney, and Freddie Bigotti come in the visitor’s area where I am waiting for them. They both get a strange look on their face when they see me. It has been several months since they were last here and the effects of the hormones are now much more visible. My hair is shoulder-length and well-cared for. Rupert makes sure the bitches look good—even down to laser hair treatments and permanent makeup since it is hard to get the real stuff in here. Nurse Jones just sees to everything getting done.
I tap my long red fingernails on the table in frustration as Greg and Freddie come over. I know there is no sense trying to make an issue out of any of this—there are ‘signed’ statements in my medical file that certify that I am ‘transgendered’ and requested the hormonal treatment. It seems Rupert has a very good forger ‘on staff’, too. At least they haven’t forced me to have that mutilating surgery to make me a ‘woman’. Six of the other ‘bitches’ have been here longer than me and four of them ‘requested’ the surgery. They were rapists on the outside and were quick to be put on Rupert’s surgery list. It seems he doesn’t like rapists at all.
Freddie comes over and says, “Jeremy… You look…like shit! I will continue to pray for your soul. I have to trust that you’re being truthful about this being forced on you—with your son’s illness and all. I mean, it could be genetic. Anyway, Greg has some good news for you.” I give Freddie a dark look and then turn to Greg who has a big grin on his face. He simply says, “The prosecutor on your case has been found to be taking shortcuts on some cases. There wasn’t anything they could find on your case, but all of his convictions are being overturned. Since yours is not one in question, it will take a little longer to get you out, but you will be freed. I am working to convince the DA that you are not worth the effort to retry and he seems to agree that there are more high-priority ones for him to concentrate on. I’m pretty sure I will have you out of here as a free…ummm…man…in a few months.”
I get a slow grin on my face and look at Freddie. I ask, “Do we know where they are?”
He simply nods and my grin spreads. The bitch will pay, and I will have my son back. I have no idea how to undo what they have done to me in here. The bitch will just have to pay more.
I have to stop in at the medical station on the way back to my cell block. Nurse Jones lets me in and says, “I have good news, Josephine! I hear you may be getting out in a few months. Rupert has pulled some strings so that you can have the SRS surgery and DD breast enhancements that you begged for to be complete. You’re scheduled for next week and all of your official paperwork is being taken care of, too—like your official name and gender change. Of course, he wants payment for doing you that favor. He was able to get your case review shuffled to the bottom of the deck. You should be out in about a year—maybe less if you’re a good girl. Now you know that T-girls in this state still go to men’s prison, but you will be in the special cell block with the other girls and they can teach you all about taking care of yourself. Your daily appointments will of course increase since Rupert can charge more for your services. Now run along, Josie, you have a two o’clock with Jimmy.”
I stumble back to my cell in a stupor. I can’t believe all the rotten luck. I was almost out of here!
Jimmy comes in at two and I let the pain and humiliation turn into rage at my bitch wife. She will pay dearly for every ‘appointment’ and more dearly for getting me turned into this abomination.
I smile ferally as I dig my long nails into the mattress and wait for Jimmy to finish up…
Lexi
I pick up the box from where the delivery person hid it from porch pirates behind the chair on the porch. I hurry and take it to my room before Momma gets home. I quickly unwrap it and hide the non-descript tubes away in separate spots, then carefully destroy the packaging and dispose of it under some garbage bags in the bin in the garage.
I return to my room and sit on the toilet and smile as I rub the first pea-sized dose of those heavenly hormones into my inner thighs. I smile wide as I envision them spreading through my body and starting the chain of events that will kick off my puberty. I am officially on my way to becoming a woman now!
I grin as Alex rattles his cage and screams in my head, “Dad will make you pay for this you little pervert! You just wait!”
I simply whisper to myself, “Daddy’s in prison, you idiot. He’s not getting out and now you’ve lost! In a few months there will be nothing anyone can do about it.”
I go to greet Momma with a hug as soon as I hear the garage door opening. We are going to meet Mamacita and JuJu for dinner. I feel all gooey warm and tingly inside.
I just smile contentedly into her shoulder and ignore Alex’s outburst. The next few months are going to be epic!
Broken, Too!
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(All images and artwork are property of and copyrighted by Shauna J. Rousseau.)
Author’s Note and Caution: This is more the story of the father and is only being provided by popular demand. It won’t be to everyone’s taste since the father is forced into a sex change against his will. It is not forced femme in the typical sense—but it is forced. At any rate, here it is for those that want to read his story.
Rupert
I look over at Baumler. He is sitting meekly in his corner, like a good little warden. I puff on my cigar and look over the books. I look back at Baumler and say, “OK, Greg, it looks like you have it all tidied up. Good job. You just saved your son from major pain for another month.” I love running this joint and just need Baumler to give it legitimacy and he is good at cooking the books and other records to keep the Feds off our case. It was a stroke of genius for the Organization to take over a private prison. There is oversight, sure, but it is so much easier to blackmail the players and control things. Buying up Baumler’s son’s debt from the Triad was not cheap, but it was worth it—first, we are patriots. Sure, we are crooks, but we do not want the Chinese controlling any more than they already have. Second, it gave us leverage over Baumler, so me taking over the joint when I got sent here was a piece of cake.
Next, I ask him, “So, about our newest transformation. Where are we on that? Jenny reports all is on track?” He nods and says, “Yes, Jeremy…Josie’s surgery is on track.” I look at the plans and grump that he…’she’…it will get out so soon. Maybe, there is another option—it will cost a little more up front but will guarantee us longer term payback. I say, “Change of plan. Let Jenny know I want him…’her’…it to have the full platinum package, not just the plumbing change and boob job. We can then employ it on the outside. We can also charge more from the inmates before it’s released.”
He blanches a little but nods. He knows better than to argue.
I think this through some more. This could work out as a winning long-term plan! We do the ‘fixing’ on the inside at no cost to us, since we are using our own surgeons—they get to practice their techniques and do their experimenting. We make the ‘fixees’ pay back their debt for the ‘fixing’—no matter that most do not ask for it, like those idiot rapists. Some actually do, though—they actually want to be mutilated. No matter the price. ‘Josie’ didn’t ask but was just so slight of build and perfect for a general prison bitch. Plus, I do not like child beaters—and Jeremy put his son in a coma. No, he deserved what he got. ‘Josie’ will serve us well. Anyway, the ‘fixees’ are employed by us and pay back their substantial debt. With this plan, we can employ them on the outside and we get that much more. The bonus is that our surgeons can take their improved techniques and charge the perverts on the outside that will actually pay to have their bodies mutilated. It is a total win-win!
Jenny
I listen to Greg outline what Rupe wants and shake my head in wonder. I ask, “So, he wants her to not only have the SRS and boob job, as well as the whole identity package, but now also full-body feminization surgery, lipo-structuring, and full asset training?” He nods and adds, “Plus, employment insurance—but he doesn’t want…her…doped up. ‘She’ is supposed to be a high-class asset and be able to actually perform.” I nod and say, “We can do the vaping trick on her. This is an unusual expense on an inmate—especially one that is soon to be released.” Then it hits me. I exclaim, “He’s going to keep her on after she gets out, isn’t he? That’s genius!” He nods and shakes his head at my enthusiasm. I add, “I better get on this. She’s scheduled for surgery in the morning and this is quite the add-on. It’s a good thing that we have our own surgical team on this.”
I still wonder at the system they have set up. I call the scheduler and make the changes to the order.
Jeremy
I wake up and see the note from Nurse Jones to report to her office ASAP. My cell door is open and I walk to the medical section like a dead man walking. I guess, in a sense, I am a dead man—given what is supposed to happen to me today.
I enter the medical station and see Nurse Jones talking on the phone. She looks up and says, “Oh, here she is. Thanks, Hon.” She hangs up and says, “I thought you had tried to run, or something. I knew you weren’t that stupid, though. Rupe has made some changes to your orders, so come over here and let me get your catheter in.” She sticks my arm with a long needle and pushes a small tube into my vein. She tapes it down and plugs an I.V. line into it. The line is hooked up to a bag with a clear liquid and she starts the liquid dripping into the line—and into my vein.
She explains, “So, like I said, Rupe has ordered some changes to your orders.” I start to feel really relaxed as she continues, “In addition to your SRS and double-D boob job, you’re going to have full feminization surgery. Did you know that you have Asian and American Indian blood? We did the genetics on you. It’s partly why your stature is so small ,and you didn’t have a lot of hair before we cleaned you up. Anyway, the feminization surgery will give you a pretty face with a shaved brow line, higher rounded cheeks, and a cute little button nose. Your lips will be lusciously full and your Adam’s Apple removed. They will remove your bottom ribs to help emphasize your waist—and graft them to your pelvis to give you wider hips. Finally, they will take fat cells from areas where they don’t belong on a pretty woman and add them to areas where they do.”
I am somehow relaxed and cannot get up the energy to react. I want to kill her, to run, but I am just so relaxed. Some men in uniforms come in with a gurney and load me onto it. Then, the lights in the ceiling flash by in a strange pattern as they wheel me down the hall and outside to a waiting ambulance. Everything finally goes black as they load me into it.
Jenny
I monitor our newest T-Girl. They just dropped her off and she will still be very sleepy for a while given the pain meds she is on. Then we will keep her knocked out for a few days after the safe time on opioids—we do not want her hooked on those. Overall, she will basically be out for at least a week. Our docs will make rounds a couple of times a day here—with our full medical facility, she can actually recover here and not have to stay in our private hospital with paying patients.
I go over and put the mask over her face and turn on the valve to let the vapor in. She will be hopelessly hooked after a couple of days of the treatment. When we finally allow her to fully wake up, she will quickly be faced with her nicotine addiction for the first time. Of course, she will not know it is a ‘simple’ nicotine addiction. We will convince her it is a new untraceable Chinese designer drug that she can only get from us. We have this down pat for the girls that are not already—and never were—hooked on nicotine and that we want to remain clear-headed for their new work.
I turn out the light and listen to her rhythmic and deep breathing for a minute before I close the door.
Josie
I kind of feel like I am floating. I feel the excruciating pain in about every inch of my body, but I somehow just cannot care.
My mind wanders. I think back to a time when Maddie and I were happy—Alex had just been born. I was a very devout Christian and so happy to have a healthy son and wife.
Things fast-forward in my mind to the first time that Alex makes noises about being a girl and Maddie insists we go see April. When she ‘confirms’ that Alex is ‘transgendered’, I do some research of my own. I run across Freddie’s website and he promises good Christian answers to my questions and solutions to my problems. I meet with him and his followers and soon become, for lack of a better word, radicalized against ‘perverts’.
I suddenly feel all tingly as I continue to float and it feels funny—but good.
Maddie winds up divorcing me and Alex winds up hating me. Freddie’s promises to provide solutions do not pan out. Being ‘forceful’ with Maddie and taking Alex to see him for a few ‘sessions’ only serve to feed into her being granted the divorce.
Then they disappear. I have no idea where they are. But Freddie’s Church has followers everywhere and they let him know where they are. I go to just talk to them and wait outside the garage behind the bushes. When they drive in, I rush in before Maddie can close the door. And I go berserk—I have no idea what sets me off. Freddie really messed with my head.
I do not calm down until the policewoman has cuffs on me. Freddie meets me at the precinct with Greg. Greg admonishes me not to say anything that he does not first approve. I feel like crap when I find out that Alex is in a coma because of me, but Freddie continues to poison my mind and Greg steers me down the path that puts me in prison and becoming a prison bitch.
My mind continues to wander as my first year as a bitch unfolds. Finally, I wind up with Nurse Jones placing the catheter in my vein and me slowly blacking out…
Lexi
I fight the urge to use a double dose of the gel and only apply the pea-sized amount as I have all week. Of course, there is no development yet—except maybe the slightest tingly-itch in my nipples, but I cannot really say that it is not just my imagination.
I sigh and get ready for the day. Then I smile—it is going to be a good one! My body is certainly saturated with female hormones by now.
Josie
The pain firmly sets in before my eyes will open. I moan and I hear Nurse Jones saying, “Josie! Time to wake up, Hon! You’ve been asleep long enough! Wake up!”
I groan again and try to get my eyes to open. I finally get them to open and the light blinds me for a second. I grimace and Nurse Jones slowly comes into focus. She smiles at me and says, “Welcome back to the living, Hon! You’ve been out for a week, so the worst part of your pain is over. I know you’re still sore, though. You’re OK to talk now, although you will sound different. They went ahead and worked on your vocal chords when they shaved your trachea. They’re pretty confident that they didn’t damage anything, but there’s always the chance that you’ll sound like Minnie Mouse. Either way, you’ll be hoarse for a little while.”
I croak, “I…I…I…” I close my mouth. I can’t believe how high my voice sounds. I finish and whisper, “I’m thirsty.” She nods and says, “I’m going to raise the head of your bed a little. It may hurt in your waist, but your corset will protect you. She pushes the button and I feel my upper body raising. She is right, it is uncomfortable in my waist, but more so with the weight of my boobs pulling down. They must be huge!
She hands me a cup of ice chips and says, “Here. Suck on some of these until we’re sure you’re completely awake.” I put the cup to my lips and grimace at how swollen they feel. I let a chip slip between them and into my mouth. I let it melt and take another. Suddenly, I start to feel…jittery. After the third ice chip, my mouth feels less like cotton and I try talking again, “Something’s wrong. I feel really jittery.” I grimace at the way my voice sounds to me.
She smiles and says, “Well, Hon. That’s normal. While you were out, we got you addicted on a special designer drug that we get from China. It’s untraceable and tests just like nicotine if analyzed. Beware, though that it’s not nicotine—you will only be able to get your fix from this drug. And you’ll only be able to get the drug from us. I’ll prove my point—I’m sure you still won’t take my word for it; for now. But we will follow up again later.” She hands me an unopened package of e-cig nicotine cartridges and has me inspect them to ensure they are untampered with. I am still groggy, but the seal looks intact. Then she inserts one into a regular e-cig device and hands it to me. She says, “Go on. One hit won’t get you addicted to nicotine. The sooner we get through this, the sooner I can help your jitters. Go ahead! Inhale!”
I shrink back—I abhor smoking and vaping—but I finally do as she says since the jitters are getting worse. I meekly inhale the mist from the device and blow it back out. I feel no effect on my jitters at all. She loads a different device with a cartridge that she pulls out of a locked drawer and hands it to me. The implication is clear—inhale!
I draw in mist from the device and feel wonderfully tingly—and my jitters settle a slight bit. Nurse Jones just nods, and I draw in another, much deeper breath and hold it in. I slowly let it out and repeat. After the fifth time, I start feeling better. I look at her and implore, “Why?” She just grins and says, “You work for Rupe now. When you get out, you will continue to work for the Organization. This just ensures that you’re a good girl and don’t unexpectedly quit—and that you have the proper motivation to perform at your best.”
I groan and inhale again. She continues, “Now, I’m sure you’ve noticed the extra weight on your chest. You do now have lovely full double-D breasts. The removal of your lowest ribs was successful, and you will be wearing a corset for a while to get your waist fully shaped and down to at least a svelte twenty-two inches. The bone grafts on your pelvis went without a hitch and added a good two inches to your hips—and everything is nicely wrapped in the proper fat proportions for a woman to give you a nice soft, cuddly hourglass figure. Finally, once everything heals on your face, you’ll be largely unrecognizable from your former self—you’ll be quite beautiful as a woman. Once you are fully trained, you will be quite the asset to the organization!”
Jenny
I look through the window in the door and see Josie greedily sucking on the e-cig device. I ‘inadvertently’ left the ‘regular’ nicotine cartridges in the room a couple of days ago and, of course, she tried them—to no avail. Unless the special cartridge that we supply is used, the unique device automatically filters out most of the nicotine in the cartridge and it has no effect.
It has been a week since we woke her up—and she is now two weeks post-op. Her swelling and bruising has gone down substantially, and she looks very much a woman, now. I am about to pull her urinary catheter, based on doctor’s orders—then she will have to relearn how to pee. And, she is going to learn the joys of dilation—after I do a sensation test.
I go into her room just as she puts down her e-cig and say, “OK, Josie! You’re in for some fun! We’re going to pull your catheter and get you out of that bed for a lesson on going to the potty as a woman. Then, we are going to start prepping your new work tool for proper use.” I giggle. She gives me a confused look, but she will find out soon enough.
I put up the stirrups and place her legs in them. I deflate the little balloon and carefully pull out the catheter. The doctor had checked her earlier this morning and pronounced her healed and ready. I had closed the valve earlier and given her some strong coffee and made her drink a large glass of water, so I know she has to go by now. I help get her legs out of the stirrups and say, “OK. Let me help you up and we’ll go let you pee.” She hisses as I help her stand. I am sure her ribs are still tender—even with the protection of the corset.
She moans in her now very girly voice, “Ow, ow, ow!” I help her slowly walk on legs that have not been used for two weeks and get her situated on the toilet. It does not take her long to figure out how to relax her muscles and let the urine stream out of her new opening. When she is done, I stress the importance of wiping from front to back to prevent urinary tract infections.
Lexi
I get out of the shower and dry myself off. I grimace as I rub my nipples and now know why girls pat themselves dry. I am certainly getting to be very tender there. I am not really noticing much else, just yet. Maybe the slightest hint of some fuzz under my arms…
I put on a matching bra and panty set and smile as I look in the mirror. Soon enough, there will be an actual need for the bra. I just have to figure out how I am going to hide that—and then explain it.
Josie
I sit on the toilet and catch my breath. Walking was really painful. I have to go—bad. But I cannot figure out how to just relax the correct muscles. After I nearly panic that I am going to burst, it just starts flowing. I look down, but cannot really see much past my huge boobs, besides my knees and feet. When the rush of pee stops, Nurse Jones shows me the ‘correct’ way to wipe. She scares the Hell out of me when she says, “Listen, Hon! You don’t want a UTI! You have a shorter urethra now, like all women, and you are prone to them since the bad bugs can get up there much more easily. If you wipe from back to front like you’re used to, you will just wipe your poop into the hole. Poop equals bad bugs. Understand?” I just nod and contort myself to wipe the correct way.
When I am done, I sit there a second and look up. She moves out of the way and I can see myself in the mirror. I flinch—I look nothing like myself! I still have some leftover yellowish bruises, but the swelling has gone down, and the really bad bruising is gone. My face is…pretty…
I start crying. I cannot help it.
Nurse Jones says, “It’s OK, Hon. You’ll get used to it. For better or worse, you’re one of us now. Of course, you will employ your new assets much differently than I do, but you’ll get used to that, too. If you allow yourself, you might even learn to enjoy it. As long as you put forth the correct effort and attitude, you will be a high-class call girl. I suggest you don’t find out how the Organization treats those that fall from grace. Your first months here would look like paradise.”
She helps me back to my bed with my head swimming at her implications. I slowly climb in and she puts my legs back into the holder things—spread wide apart. She surprises me when she straps them down so that I cannot move them. I look at her over my boobs and between my legs and wonder what she is going to do to me now. I hear a buzzing sound and she barely touches my new ‘lips’ down there with a vibrator. I nearly jump out of my skin—it tickles! She continues moving it while gently touching. The tickling turns into something else and I find myself rising to press harder on the vibrator. Soon, she enters me and I moan. I lose track of time, but I do not think it is much more than a few minutes before I start to loudly scream as I experience my first orgasm as a ‘woman’. She does not let up, though. I experience two more in rapid succession, then she finally turns off the vibrator. My throat is raw from screaming, my heart is pounding, and I am completely out of breath.
She smiles at me and says, “See? Being a woman has its advantages. Do you think that you could have ever done that as a man? I could have kept on, you know. Anyway, I suggest you vape a cartridge. I hear from those that are addicted that post-orgasmic bliss from the drug is off the charts.”
I sigh—partly in contentment and partly in frustration—and pick up the e-cig and a new cartridge. With shaky fingers, I load the device and pull in a deep lungful of vapor. It is pure heaven—the mix of the afterglow from the orgasm and the tingling I get from the device just sort of…harmonizes. I know I am even more hooked—on both accounts.
I take in another lungful of mist and nearly blow my head off as I scream in pain. She just pushed something deep into me and it hurts like Hell!
She just says, “Sorry, Hon. But we have to get you dilated so that you can fully take a man into you. I’m told it’s painful in the beginning…”
Lexi
I scrutinize myself closely in the mirror to make sure I did not miss any hair.
It has been three months since I started using the hormone gel and some of its effects are starting to become harder to disguise without more effort. I can actually feel little breast buds starting to swell under my nipples just like I have been dreaming about for so long. I have also started sweating more. For now, these are easy to cover up. I started wearing a bra even before my coma—not that I had any actual need to, but Momma and Mamacita indulged my ‘Lexi’ desire to be more feminine. So, continuing to wear one is not a red flag to anyone. When I indicated last week that I wanted to start using a girly deodorant ‘just for the feel and to smell like the other girls’, they likewise gave in to make me feel better for being in hormonal limbo. Little do they know!
I have also started showing more signs of pubic and underarm hair. It is still soft and very fine, so it is easily removed with wax strips. I will just have to stay on top of it. I am more worried about potential growth on my arms and legs, but Momma has never had to shave her legs because the hair on them is so fair and fine. Daddy was never really hairy either. My hope is that I will inherit the same traits. Not that I will not fail to remove any trace of hair, unlike Mom, even if it is barely noticeable. Just to be safe, not because I might or might not be vain.
My biggest concern is any growth spurt I may undergo. I know it is purely my imagination, but my shoes feel a little tighter. My hope is that any height gain will be minimal—or at least slow. Again, Momma is small-statured and is right now less than a foot taller than me. Daddy is also nowhere near a giant, so maybe I will luck out and not grow like a weed. Hopefully, I will not grow like JuJu—she is already over a foot taller than me. Of course, she is also two years into her puberty—and a C-cup…
I finger the little buds that are just starting to develop under my increasingly sensitive nipples and imagine what my breasts will be like. While Momma is small in stature, she is well-endowed, so chances are that I could have significant development that will be hard to explain, but I will cross that bridge when I get to it. I have done a lot of research and am confident that my daily dosage is safe—if anything, it is on the low side to just have a slow and steady progress.
April’s concerns about Alex are unfounded—I am here to stay as Lexi—so I still feel good about my decision to move forward without her consent or knowledge. I mean, yes, Alex continuously rattles his cage and complains about me ruining his body, but I am getting better at shutting him down. Every little hormonally induced change is another nail in his coffin.
After one final check on the body hair, I carefully clean up the evidence of my waxing session and get dressed. After I put on my makeup, I inspect myself from all angles in the mirror and do not see anything that gives away my developing puberty and smile. I run downstairs and dispose of the old wax strips in the garbage bin in the garage, being careful to bury it in a way that Momma will not find it.
I go back into the kitchen and start the coffee and get out the things for breakfast. Momma should be coming down any minute.
Maddie
I smell the coffee brewing and smile. Lexi is already at it!
I go into the kitchen and give her a hug from behind and say, “Good morning, Sweetheart! Did you sleep OK?” She flinches a little—I guess I must have startled her. Then she turns and gives me a kiss on the cheek and says, “Like a log. No bad dreams at all!”
I smile and nod. Things have been going well. Even starting back to school as Lexi. I pour each of us a cup of the strong coffee and grin, “Just right! How are things going at school? Is Jessie leaving you alone?”
She opens up her cup of yogurt and eats a spoonful before answering, “Yeah. Everyone has been great with the transition. To be honest, I don’t think most people ever saw Alex as a guy, anyway. We know that Jessie sure didn’t! She kind of shook her head when I ran into her the other day and she figured out it was me, but she winked and seemed…nice… It’s weird, Momma. I don’t get mean girls!”
I smile and take another sip of the coffee to wake up. I muse, “Well, hopefully we can get you in with JuJu next year. It was just too late to navigate all of that this year. Going to an all-girl school will give you plenty of practice!” I giggle at her grimace.
She sighs and takes a sip of her coffee. She is now drinking it completely unadulterated—without milk or sugar—like it should be. She does not even shudder anymore when she does. She retorts, “Well, I am looking forward to the potential of stimulating classes.”
I look at the clock, then pour my cereal and milk and take a quick bite. After swallowing, I ask, “So, you’re still planning on helping at the store over your break next week?”
She grins and says, “If you’re still planning on paying me—and letting me use your discount…”
I giggle, “Yes, I’ll pay you in clothes and shoes. We’ll work it out. JuJu is still planning on helping, too. It’s nice that you have your break at the same time. But I do expect to get some work out of you—no goofing around. Of course, I can’t actually employ you, since you’re too young, but I can officially bring you on as junior interns. I have always wanted a servant to answer my every beck and call—now I’ll have two!”
She rolls her eyes, just like any teenage girl and I feel a little guilty again that she cannot have her hormones. I know she wants her body to develop along with her attitude, but April is right in making her wait. Based on their conversations, it seems that Lexi is still waging an internal war with Alex. She does not think we know, but it has come out in their talks. April is worried about the fact that she is trying to hide it. She is also still worried about possible DID as a result of Jeremy and Bigotti meddling with her mind.
She quips, “Well, as long as I’m a well-paid servant, I’ll fetch your coffee, or whatever.” She cannot help but giggle. We finish our breakfast, and she puts the dishes in the dishwasher while I go finish getting ready for work.
Josie
I lay back relaxed. My legs are unstrapped in the stirrups and Dr. Westman is examining me. He has just easily inserted the largest dilation dildo and there is no pain. He surprises me when straps my legs in—they have not done so in weeks. Jenny—Nurse Jones—leaves the room and closes the door as Dr. Westman unties his scrub pants and pulls them down. Ten minutes later, I lay there with tears of shame in my eyes as he leaves the room and Jenny comes in to teach me how to clean myself up after intercourse.
I have been in the cell block with the other T-Girls since about two weeks after they woke me up. They have taught me how to do my makeup—even though I have permanent makeup, I am supposed to know how to expertly change my look. Ginger, a voluntary T-Girl is an expert at it and has been drilling it into me. For some reason, we have access to all of the makeup we need in the T-Girl block.
Veronica, the only other current voluntary T-Girl took charge of ‘girlying’ me up. I have numerous piercings now—multiple in each ear, in my nose, and my navel. We also seem to have access to lots of what I would have used to call sexy clothing. Now, I just call it provocative. Ginger and Veronica have been making me get dolled up and learn how to walk in heels—no lower than four inches.
My lot seems to have been cast with those two and I am in really nice quarters—for a prison. The other forced T-Girls are in better cells than we used to have over in the general population, but they are still a couple of cuts below ours.
Anyway, after I am cleaned up, Jenny says, “I’m sorry, Hon. That was your final test. You’re now cleared for duty and will be put on the roster with Ginge and Ronnie. I know they have taught you how to satisfy yourself and you do it regularly, but here… I’ll give you a few minutes alone—it sucks to not get your satisfaction. You are going to have to figure out how to make that happen, though. Men are not in it for your pleasure under normal circumstances. They sure aren’t going to worry about you under these!” She hands me a large, anatomically correct vibrator and leaves me alone.
Ten minutes later, I am gasping for breath through my raw throat. She comes back in and hands me the usual popsicle. It has the same basic anatomical shape as that vibrator and I expertly stick it all the way down my throat to sooth it. The first time she had handed me one these and explained what I was supposed to do with it, I choked twice—once in humiliation before using it and once when I actually tried to do as she ‘suggested’. Oh, I tried to resist over the next week, but it did not take long for my need to feed my drug addiction outweighed my will to resist. Deep-throating the popsicles is now no issue—nor are the large dildos that Ginge and Ronnie make me do the same with.
Over the past couple of months, chasing orgasms has become really addictive. Jenny did let it slip that they had been tweaking my hormones to make me as horny as possible, so that explains some of it. I just cannot seem to get enough use out of that vibrator. Of course, Ginge and Ronnie have been showing me other ways to get them besides the vibrators—including all of our fingers and tongues. Nothing larger has been allowed in me up to now—except my daily dilations with Jenny. And she would give me extra time with the vibrator if I used my tongue on her first.
I finish my popsicle and Jenny actually gives me a hug. She steps back and says, “You’re a woman now, Hon—albeit a soon-to-be high-priced call girl. Be prepared to be treated like one. Your training will now go to the next level. When you leave here in a few months, you will either live a somewhat shackled life of luxury—at a price; or you will live the life of a two-bit whore. It’s up to you now. You’ve taken off in the right direction—I hope you continue down the right path. Our daily sessions are now over. I’ll just see you for your routine checkups—or if you have other needs. Being in with Ginge and Ronnie’s clientele will give you certain protections—but you will still be dealing with men and they can get rough.”
With that, she sends me back to the ‘Cathouse’ as our section of the T-Girl block is called. I see that I have my first appointment in thirty minutes and am booked through the evening in thirty-minute intervals. I sit down heavily and cry as Ronnie comes in and checks to make sure my burlesque corset is tightened and my fishnet stockings hooked to the built-in garters are straight after my ‘examination’. Of course, I don’t have any panties on.
She hands me some six-inch stilettos and says, “It drives ‘em crazy. Knock ‘em dead, Hon! Just remember to focus on driving them nuts, but also do what you can to get what you need. Keep them on the edge as long as you can, and you may buy yourself enough time to get some personal pleasure!” She winks and is gone.
I look at the clock and grimace. Ten minutes…
Rupert
I read the report on Josie. I look up at Baumler, sitting in his corner again, and ask, “Is this right? Everything has been done to slow down its release? We have to free it today?” He nods and says, “Your sources are better than mine, but yeah. It looks like she’ll have to be released today. We kept her for over nine months more than she would have stayed without your…help. I don’t have anything else I can throw in the way. Her conviction has been vacated. It doesn’t look like they are even going to retry her—I’m not sure how much influence your…employer…had on that. It could have been all that so-called Church’s doing, too…”
I nod. I’ve already let the outside know it’ll be coming. I grump, “Well, it turned out to be a good asset in here—especially after the ‘special’ Ts got set up for outside visitors. It’s amazing how many people are ‘friends and family’ of those three. Now, it’ll just be for the two. Ginger and Veronica are just going to have to be good ‘girls’ and carry a heavier load.” I shake my head. I mean, these ‘visitors’ know what these ‘girls’ are--its. Yet, they flock here and pay good money. I do hear that the three of them are very good at what they do, though. After a short indoctrination, post-op, Josie has certainly carried ‘her’ load. Of course, Jenny told me what she threatened it with as an alternative. It’s a good thing that it does not realize that the Organization does not deal in ‘two-bit whores’—they are too high-maintenance.
Josie
I look at Jenny and almost start crying. Yes, she was instrumental in my forced…transformation. But over the past several months, we have become something akin to…friends. At the very least, she has been a constant in my bizarre new life. I guess it is some sort of Stockholm Syndrome. After Ginge, Ronni, and I started receiving outside ‘visitors’, our inside appointments were infrequent. Because of that, we were subject to more frequent visits with Jenny because there was an increased risk of…infections…
There was one interesting side-effect of one of my ‘regulars’ who had a…quirk… He wanted me to smoke a large cigar during his ‘visit’, so that I would be the ‘engine’ of the ‘train’ and he was ‘coupled on’ behind me. Anyway, he was a daily ‘visitor’ and I came to realize that my ‘drug’ addiction really is just to nicotine since I had no cravings during and after those sessions.
Jenny says, “Well, this is it, Josie. Your last checkup—and everything looks fine. When you get outside, there will be a car waiting for you. It will take you to your new home. Madame Gillette will be in charge of your schedule. I know that you will do fine—if you keep up the same level of effort that you kept up in here!”
I sigh and retort, “I’m not a woman, though, Jenny. I have to act like one—and you’ve made me into a perverted and very horny parody of one. But I’m not one. I’m a man—that’s how I was born and how God intended me. I just pray I don’t go to Hell because of what you’ve done to me.”
Jenny gets red-faced and says, “That’s just Bigotti talking, right there. He certainly did poison your mind! Whether you accept yourself as the beautiful woman that you are, or not. It doesn’t matter whether you asked to be one, or not—no woman born as one gets that choice, either! No matter—you won’t go to Hell because of it. And neither will your daughter! The sooner you accept that, the sooner you may have a chance to reconcile with her. You’ve been given another chance, there—I suggest you take it. Of course, you will still need to meet your obligations with the Organization…”
I do not say what I think about that. They have no real hold over me, anymore. I certainly do not owe them anything—except maybe some sort of revenge.
I shake my head and say, “We will just have to agree to disagree, I guess. I will do what I have to—to survive.” She smiles and says, “Good luck! You’re about to be a free woman—well, free from prison, anyway.”
I give her a hug and go to processing where I am officially released and allowed to exit the grounds. I see the black limousine waiting for me and climb into the backseat. Without a word, the driver takes off—to where, I have no idea…
Lexi
I sigh in frustration. I am in a quandary. My hormonal regimen over the past nine months has done mostly exactly what I intended—a slow progression of my body developing as it should. Things started out great, and for the first six months all went well—there were just those little things that happened. Breast bumps, slightly enlarged nipples, and some peach fuzz in the right spots (hint, not on my face!). Hiding the small bumps and taking care of the fuzz was not a problem.
The problem is that things are starting to get more noticeable now and seem to be progressing at an increasing pace. I would be hard-pressed to let anyone see me without a bra anymore—my breasts have swollen to a full A-cup. My nipples are getting clearly bigger, and are no longer sore, but really sensitive. My areolae are getting larger and slightly darker. All of this is still easily concealable with a bra—now with smaller inserts—but would be embarrassingly evident otherwise. I knew this was coming, but I thought I would have more time.
On top of my breast development, I have grown about an inch and my feet are half a size bigger. I had planned on this—somewhat—when I picked out my clothes as my ‘payment’ for working for Momma over school break. I made sure that there was room to grow in my bras and picked out a couple of different sizes of gel inserts. I also got shoes that were half a size too big—they fit perfectly now, but I will be in trouble if my feet continue to grow. By wearing only dresses, skirts, or otherwise leggings and pants that were above the ankle anyway, I minimized any growth being readily apparent. It is mostly just a problem when in close contact, like hugs and such, where a direct comparison in height is possible. But the growth, so far has been slight and slow—hopefully, no one has caught on. Kind of like that proverbial frog and the boiling water…
Things have really picked up with Momma and Mamacita, too. We are over there a lot and vice versa. Hiding this from JuJu is hardest. So far, I have pulled it off—but it is a ticking time bomb. Then, there is the wedding. It is in just a few months—then we will be together all the time. The fact that no one at my school does not know that I am not supposed to be developing takes the pressure off there—but when I start at JuJu’s school next term, it will be a different story.
Freddie
I look at the disgusting abomination that was once Jeremy and say, “Well, it’s about time you got here. You’ve been out for a month!” He looks at me and whines in that overly feminine voice of his, “I had to get things set up and make my break. They only think they control me with their ‘drugs’—But I know it’s only nicotine.” I nearly drop my jaw when he takes an e-cig out of that faggish purse of his and starts puffing on it. Jeremy despises anything to do with smoking or vaping—but I guess this perverted thing really is not Jeremy anymore.
He blows out a cloud of vapor and says, “Look, Freddie. I didn’t ask for what they did to me. I can only pray that when the day comes, I won’t be judged for this sin, but I have to save my son!” I nod and respond, “God will judge you—no doubt. But he can be merciful. Saving your son will surely count for something! They have actually not moved from where they were last time since they did not know you were getting out. They have, of course been informed of your release—but they have no idea about your…’disguise’…and think you are still a thousand miles away.” I cannot keep the contempt out of my voice.
I sigh and say, “We have followers watching them. Your son goes to the mall frequently since his mother works there. He actually is there right now. We have a plan that we are ready to execute…” I explain it to him in detail as he continues to suck on that infernal device and blow clouds of vapor my way. When I am done, he asks, “OK. When are we going to go through with this?” I smile and reply, “There’s no time like the present!”
Lexi
I look around the mall, trying to decide where to go next. Of course, I do most of my shopping at Momma’s store since I get the discount, but some things are just better in other places. I decide to go check out VS. JuJu had to take care of some other things today and I just decided a day of shopping on my own sounded like fun.
I am on way to VS when I notice a woman in the side hallway that leads back to the bathrooms. She is alone and seems to be having some sort of medical trouble. I glance around and there is no one else in the vicinity and I know the guards’ station is at the other end of the mall where they would have anyone trained in first aid.
I hurry over to the woman—she looks vaguely familiar—and ask, “Ma’am? Are you alright? Can I help you? I can get someone from the offices.” She looks up and says, “No… I’ll be fine. Could you just help me into the ladies’ room? I think I just need some cold water on my face.” I help her into the ladies’ room and she takes a paper towel, wets it with cold water, and presses it to the back of her neck. She smiles and says, “I was just having a hot flash. I hate to ask this, but do you have a phone I could borrow? My battery died and I just need to call my ride to let them know I’m ready.”
I am busy looking around the bathroom. We are alone—no one to help me with her if she needs it. She pulls my attention back to her with her request and I nod. I dig in my purse and hand her my phone as I say, “Of course! Are you sure you don’t need me to go get some help?” She shakes her head as she takes my phone, then sort of collapses onto me and I catch her in surprise.
I feel a sudden sharp sting in my shoulder and everything goes black…
Josie
I grimace and pull the needle from Alex’s shoulder and dispose of the syringe in the medical sharps container on the wall. I certainly do not condone these containers for drug addicts but I have to admit it came in handy just now. I take his phone and throw it in the toilet after wiping my fingerprints from it—I had done the same to the syringe.
The door opens and Marge comes in with the wheelchair. It has a realistic blowup doll in it, covered in blankets. It has a black wig on, and the face is covered with an medical oxygen mask. Overall, you cannot tell it is a doll. She turns and locks the door. She quickly lets the air out of the doll, and we put Alex in the chair. With the black wig on his head, the oxygen mask over his face, and the blankets over his body, you cannot tell that it was not him that Marge brought in. She folds up the now empty doll and sticks it in the bag on the back of the chair.
I go out ahead of her and notice that the camera is disabled. It will not be long before someone comes to check on that. Marge comes out behind a minute later and we go our separate ways. No one will be the wiser as to what happened with him.
Marge meets me on the other side of the mall from where she had parked and loaded Alex into the van. She takes off and drives across town to the old warehouse where Freddie is waiting for us. I look back at Alex the whole time. He is out cold from the sedative. He looks very much like a girl—there is not much of my son visible. Much like there is not much of Jeremy visible in my anymore. The difference is that it is not too late for Alex.
I help Marge unload the wheelchair and then wheel Alex into the back of the warehouse where the little apartment is found. We unload him onto the cot, and I start to undress him to get him into proper clothes. I gasp when I find that he is actually growing breasts. Freddie notices and shakes his head with a grimace. He admonishes, “This is more serious than we thought! We will have to be most forceful, I’m afraid. Luckily, it looks like it should still be reversible—we may have to supplement some male steroids to jumpstart him back into the right direction.” He goes back out mumbling something about getting things ready.
I sigh and just finish getting him dressed in his boy’s clothes when he starts to come to. He groans and looks up at me in confusion, then asks, “What happened? Where am I?” I try to say in a reassuring tone, “Don’t worry. You’re safe, Alex!” He looks at me in even more confusion and says, “What…? How…? I am not Alex! My name is Lexi and how do you know what it used to be anyway? Who are you? You look vaguely familiar… O!M!G! Daddy? Is that really you?”
I close my eyes and fight back the tears. I nod my head and say, “Yes, I used to be your father. They did this to me in prison and my soul may be condemned to Hell because of it, but it is not too late for you, Alex. Reverend Bigotti is here and is going to help you back to the light!”
He shrinks back from me and gives me a repulsive look as he says with dripping venom in his voice, “I am not Alex and I don’t want to see that slimeball. Keep him away from me! Just let me go!”
At that moment, Freddie comes back in and Alex pales. He shrinks back even further into the corner that the bed is in. Freddie says, “Come along, Alex,” and grabs him by the arm. He pulls the struggling boy—screaming, kicking, scratching, and biting—into the living area of the little apartment and pushes him into a straight-back chair with arms. He ignores the cursing coming from Alex and deftly ties him into the chair—then he slaps him. Hard. I grimace.
Alex just sits there whimpering. Freddie says, “If you think you want to be a girl, then I’ll treat you like a girl. Girls that don’t listen get bitch-slapped. Now—we both know that you’re not a girl, though. You just need to be reminded of that. We need to let Alex back out.”
He hooks some electrodes up to Alex’s head and I hurry over to intervene before something bad happens. I plead, “What are you doing, Freddie? A slap is bad enough! This is ridiculous!” He looks at me and has a near insane look in his eye as he says, “Well, look who is getting all weak on me now. You really aren’t a man, anymore. I will save your son, though!”
Before I can stop him, he cranks up the dial on the machine and Alex goes stiff—then completely limp.
All I can think is that he has killed him as I faint, myself.
Lexi
I feel like I am back in my coma—I sort of feel like I am floating again. Alex taunts me—he is free from his cage. I cannot keep him contained. He jeers, “I told you Dad would get free and let me back out! I will win now—you’ll get put back in your cage where you belong. I’ll throw the key away and you’ll be completely forgotten!”
I feel the floating sensation start to recede. I am confused. Right now, Alex is free—but I am still in control. Barely.
I open my eyes and see Bigotti intently staring at me. Daddy is on the floor—it looks like he(?) is unconscious. Bigotti says, “Welcome back, Alex.” I sigh and spit out the blood I have in mouth—partially from my split lip when he slapped me; partially from where I bit my tongue when he hit me with that electric charge. He says, “Electroshock therapy went out of vogue a while back—but it is so useful! Don’t you agree?”
I spit some more blood and follow it with pure venom in my words, “You’re crazy! I am still not Alex. I will never be Alex!” He foams at the mouth as he spews, “We’ll see about that!” He is about to turn the dial again when Daddy hits him over the head with a piece of pipe. He drops to floor—maybe dead. I don’t know—and I don’t care.
Daddy looks back over at me and is about to say something when the door explodes open and the place is suddenly filled with police yelling for everyone to get down on the floor.
Maddie
I hold April’s hand as the paramedics come out with Lexi on the gurney. I rush over to her and scream, “Lexi! Are you OK, love? They wouldn’t let me in and I had to wait until they brought you out!” I do my best not to outwardly react to her split lip and black eye—or the boy’s clothing she is wearing. She smiles ruefully at me and whispers, “I was so scared, Momma. I thought for sure he was going to kill me?” I ask, “Your Dad?” She shakes her head and says, “Bigotti. Daddy…save d me. I don’t know if the police would have gotten there in time.”
I close my eyes, then bend down and squeeze her in a tight hug. I almost jerk back when I feel her breasts. She does not have a bra on under the boy’s shirt and there are clear breasts there. We will have much to talk about when the dust settles, it seems. I just squeeze her hand and climb into the ambulance after they load her—then quietly take her hand for the ride to the hospital.
Lexi
I come out of Dr. Schlesinger’s office and smile at Momma. It is the three-month ‘anniversary’ of my kidnapping and I am seeing a different psychiatrist. Mamacita insisted that I see someone unconnected to the family after it came out that I had been sneaking hormones—and the extent of which I had been fighting Alex.
After several weeks with Dr. Schlesinger, I was cleared to officially start hormones—supervised and the appropriate way. It seems Bigotti’s little shock therapy session did me a favor—not that I would recommend anyone go through with; or that I would ever endorse it! But it did force me to deal with Alex. With Dr. Schlesinger’s help, I am truly comfortable in my skin now. Alex is not locked away in a cage—he is happy to just be there for me in the back of my mind. But I am Lexi now and for evermore—and he is OK with that.
As for Bigotti. Daddy did not kill him—which is good. I do not know that I can ever fully forgive Daddy, but I am trying. Bigotti poisoned him—we all realize that more now. So, I don’t want him put away for murdering that bast… Um, well, scum. But today is when the verdict in both of their trials—for my kidnapping and associated other charges—should come out.
Neither Momma nor I want to be there. We have avoided the entire trial which was this whole week. Thankfully, I did not have to testify in person—just do this taped thing. Mamacita has been going—and keeping us informed enough.
April
I sit in the back of the courtroom and wait for the jury to come back from their deliberations. They have been gone for about an hour. I expect it may be a while more and wonder if I should go get some coffee when I am surprised that they are coming back in. They must have a verdict. That was quick!
After everything is all settled and everyone is back in the courtroom, the judge asks the jury, “Do you have a verdict for both defendants?” I am still surprised that they agreed to be tried together. The forewoman says, “Yes, your Honor. We do.” The judge nods and says, “Please let the court know your verdicts.” The forewoman says, “Your Honor, we the jury find both defendants guilty on all counts.” The judge slams down his gavel and says, “So noted. Thank you madame foreperson.”
He looks down at Bigotti and asks, “Do you have anything to say before I commence to your sentencing?” Bigotti just glares at him and silently shakes his head. The judge turns a little red-faced and says, “You are one of the most reprehensible people that have come through my court! Not only are you a bigoted charlatan of a fake pious sham, you have endangered countless children’s lives. Now, I can only sentence you for this one case since that is what you are being tried on, but I can certainly use my discretion to ensure that you do not endanger any more. You are receiving the maximum penalty that I can give you under the law for this—for all of your heinous actions taken together. You will go to a maximum security prison for fifty years with no chance of parole. So sentenced!” He bangs his gavel.
There is a murmuring in the court that he ignores and looks at Jeremy—or Josie, I guess? He asks, “And do you have anything to say for yourself?” Josie wipes tears from her eyes and says, “No, your Honor. I can’t atone for the mistakes I have made. I put my only child in danger. While it was genuinely with what I thought were good intentions, I now know that this man here was manipulating me. I will take whatever punishment you deem appropriate. I can only hope that my…daughter will see fit to some day forgive me.”
The judge looks thoughtful and nods. He says, “You are correct, Josephine. What you did was reprehensible. You not only put your daughter into a coma once, you decided to then kidnap her to put her in danger again. If not for the explicit plea of her to give you some leniency since you ultimately likely saved her and your obvious repentance, I would throw the book at you, too. That being said, you would not have had to save her if you had not put her in danger in the first place. If it had not been for another of your co-conspirator’s so-called followers giving up the whole plan on an unrelated charge to get a break of her own, there is no telling if or when the police would have shown up. I sentence you to twenty years in a maximum security prison. You will however be eligible for parole. So sentenced!” He bangs his gavel again and there is a louder conversation in the court as things are officially brought to an end.
I smile and walk to my car to go home and let my girls know the news.
Josie
I hang my head as I am sentenced. I know it is fair—very lenient, all things considered. I walk ahead of the officer in cuffs and he leads me into a side room where two men in black suits are waiting. I give them a curious look as they indicate that I should take a seat. The officer shuts the door as he leaves us alone in the room.
One of the men says, “Well, well, well, Josie. Quite the predicament you got yourself into. We can help, though. Now this is a one-time offer, and you will have exactly one minute to make up your mind when we have laid it all out. Don’t even try and guess who we work for—let’s just say we are patriots and our Agency uses a lot letters of the alphabet.”
I swallow and nod. This is certainly unexpected. I decide staying quiet is my best option at the moment.
The other man says, “So, here is our offer. We are going to send you back to your old prison. We know Baumler is compromised. We already have him working for us as a double-agent of sorts. We also know what Rupert and his assorted cronies in the Organization are up to—that you did not request your transition regardless of what the records say. Now, we don’t have proof of any of it. That is where you come in. We will also be sending your friend, Freddie, to the same prison. We have things already set in motion that will cause Rupert to classify him as a prison bitch—and then he will go through the same full package that you did.”
I look at them like they are crazy—they are fully condoning this illegal transformation and subsequent forced servitude. Not that I don’t love the idea of getting that revenge. The first one looks at me and says, “I can see your confusion. Like we said, we don’t give a shit about that bastard Bigotti—he deserves it and worse. We are so deep black in our ops that we suck in energy like a black hole. We don’t have to worry about the ramifications—and neither do you. All you have to do is gather the evidence for us. You will be provided with the appropriate tools to get what we need from the other girls in the Cathouse—where Francine will be joining you.”
I am digesting this when the second adds on, “You’re probably wondering why we don’t just use Baumler to get what we need. First, he’s compromised, so his testimony may not carry as much weight with a jury. Plus, we just want to have enough from the girls and bitches to strike a major blow to the Organization’s workings. We know it won’t shut them down—and likely won’t even shut down their involvement in that prison. It’s a huge game of Whack-a-Mole, but we keep hammering. Rupert will go back to being a ‘normal’ inmate—who knows, he may even become a prison bitch, himself—maybe she could be called ‘Ruby’.” He winks at me.
The first asks, “So. Are you in? Once we have what we need—which may take a few years—you will be free to go. Of course, you won’t be able to contact your daughter ever again. But you will get out of prison after just a couple of years—albeit, in your former…capacity.”
I know that is my lot, no matter what, so I simply nod. At least I can get back at good old Rupe!
Josie
I smile as I sit with the Marshals and sip my cappuccino. I watch Lexi confidently walk through the mall. It has been five years and she has become a wonderful and very beautiful young woman.
She laughs as she talks to her now sister. They are both getting ready to go off to college and seem well-adjusted. It seems Lexi is getting ready to start her third year since she graduated early—she always was very smart, and I cannot help but smile with pride.
I know I will not be able to ever see her again, but that is OK. She likely never will want to see me anyway. I finish my cappuccino and pat my lips with my napkin. I repair my lipstick in my mirror and nod to the Marshals. We get up and go out to the car.
I sit in the back as we drive off to someplace unknown to me. In contrast to the last time I was being driven to someplace unknown, I have no idea what I will be doing this time. All I know is that I will be in the Witness Protection Program and that I will no longer be a call-girl. Not that I don’t have real needs now that I will have to find a way to fulfill.
I smile as I look at my reflection in the heavily tinted windows. I wonder what Francie and Ruby are doing right now—not that it is hard to guess.
I giggle and settle back for a nap. I understand it will be a long ride.