Blue Nails © 2000 by Emmie Dee - Part 2

This is a sentimental love story about two teenagers whose love grows in an unusual, difficult setting. There is no explicit sex, but cross-dressing is essential to the story line. If that bores or offends you, please look elsewhere. Otherwise, I hope it can bring you both some tears and laughter. Please—no posting elsewhere without permission. Love, Emmie

 

Blue Nails by Emmie Dee © 2000

Part 2

 

Wednesday, July 9

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thursday, July 10

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

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

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

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

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

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

Friday, July 11

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

Saturday, July 12

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

"No, what?"

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

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

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

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

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

Since the Holdings now had a handicap sticker, we were able to park next to the door. Sarah decided to walk in, so we left the wheelchair in the minivan. The nonsmoking area was a down a couple of steps—there was a ramp, but you had to walk a long ways. Sarah had worked a little bit on steps in PT, so she was willing to give it a try. She was almost down on the floor level again, when a waiter with a tray bumped me from behind. I stumbled and bumped Sara. She lost her balance and fell, face-down.

"Are you okay?" We all shouted at once. Mr. Holding, I, and about three waiters all started to reach down to help her up. People from all over the area were watching us, concern on their faces.

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

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

"Dad, everybody, please. I've fallen in PT several times, and other times they've gotten me down on the floor to practice getting up from a fall. Now let me do it, I need to do it myself," she said as she set her collapsed walker upright and pulled herself up on it.

The restaurant staff was apologizing profusely. "Please, just go away," Sarah said, now back on her feet and catching her breath. "You're embarrassing me. Let's just find our table. No, wait. This leg isn't sitting quite right. Let's go to the bathroom, so I can readjust it." And we did, while Mr. H waited outside.. This was the kind of incident that earlier I was afraid would shatter my shy Sarah emotionally. Now I admired her grit more than ever.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Thanks, Julie. This kind of situation stresses us all out a bit. And please, don't be jealous of my wardrobe. Just remember that in a few weeks it will be yours, and you can play cowgirl, too. Thanks for the shirt, by the way—or did I say that already?"

The Holdings came back, and wanted to hit the road. They weren't spending the whole weekend with us to save on motel costs, so they dropped us off at Hope Haven after supper.

Sunday, July 13

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Monday, July 14

"What about this top and these shorts. Do they work together?" I asked Sarah this morning.

"Oh, Annie, no! Don’t you see that those two blues don’t work at all together? They don’t exactly clash, but they don’t look good, either. Why don’t you wear white shorts?" Sarah asked.

"I wore white shorts yesterday," I responded. When I lived as a boy, picking clothes was much easier. "And we didn’t get time over the weekend to wash the dark load with my jeans and jean shorts."

"I know! It’s cooler today. Try Miss Kansas!" I groaned. Miss Kansas was the nickname we gave to another contribution from Aunt Claire. It was a nicely cut knit dress, ankle-length, long sleeves, and high collar. But the problem was the pattern—on a blue background, the dress was covered with big, bright sunflowers.

"Not exactly the height of teen sophistication," I muttered as I took it off the hanger and slipped it on.

"Annie, youre not exactly a sophisticated teen, and that’s one of the things I love about you. That dress fits your comfortable, cozy personality to a tee," Sarah smiled.

"I’d rather be wearing a tee, and jeans, but I promised to wear everything once," I grudgingly agreed. "It’s a little awkward to work in PT like this, but it’ll be okay, I guess." Actually, it was very comfortable, and I had to agree that I looked nice in it. In Wichita, I would look even nicer.

Sarah and I took a side trip after PT. We went up to the ICU visiting room and saw Roberta’s mother. She hugged us both tightly.

"How is Roberta?" I asked.

"You know what they say? ‘As well as can be expected?’ Her condition is critical, but there’s a good chance that she will pull through. She has every other time. It’s just that"—her voice caught—every time she gets a little weaker. I’m not sure if this is good news or bad news, but the doctors said that they are putting her name on the heart transplant list now—she’ll be a long ways from the top of the list, but it will come sooner than we had thought. It’ll have to come, I’m afraid, or her little heart will just wear out."

It was really hard to think about that cute little girl needing to have her heart replaced if she was ever going to grow up to be a teenager. We talked a little longer, and gave Roberta’s mother the new set of earrings we had made.

"She just loves the others you made," she said, thanking us. "She was angry when they wouldn’t let her bring them with her over here. But I have an idea. I’ll check and see if I can hook them onto something in her room, where she can see them. Roberta would love that!" She hugged us again. She gave birth to Roberta when she was still a teenager, she had told us earlier, so she wasn’t that many years older than we were. That made her lonely at Hope House. She was too old to be "one of the kids," fitting in like me, and too young to be comfortable with some of the other parents. I’m glad we could be her friend. Before we left, I asked if she would let us know when it came time for Roberta to get a new heart, so we could be there for them. She smiled and said that she couldn’t promise anything, because when it happened it would happen quickly, but she would try.

On the way back, Sarah Beth looked at me quizzically. "Do you realize that you offered for us to come see her—Sarah and Annie? They don’t know you’re Mark."

"I hadn’t thought about that! Oh, well. We can sort that out later, I guess. Maybe Annie can be tied up at college, and Mark can bring you. Or something."

"Or something," Sarah said, shaking her head.

After chemo, I saw a note with my name on it on the bulletin board. Mrs. Burdugo, the administrator, wanted to see me. A sense of dread came over me, like with a summons to go the principal’s office. I took Sarah up to the room, and whispered, "She couldn’t have found out, could she?

Mrs. Burdugo is petite, always professionally dressed, and has a no-nonsense look about her. She would make a good school principal. She smiled when I knocked on her open door and stepped inside. Good sign.

"Annie, do come in! I love that dress, by the way. It really fits you. Practical, down-to-earth, warm, friendly, kind of old-fashioned, but in a very nice way." I smiled and thanked her. "I am never afraid to admit when I’m wrong," she said, "And I was wrong about you." Dangerous words, but her smile seemed genuine. I smiled back, still a little nervous. "I was strongly tempted not to admit you and Sarah Beth to Hope Haven. You are just the minimum age to be a healing partner, and I wasn’t sure that you could handle life here. I thought you might have become irresponsible and rowdy, or that you could have ended up as an emotional basket case, not being able to handle the situations that we face here. It was only because your sister seemed so vulnerable that we allowed it. Well, like I said, I was mistaken. You are mature, helpful, and a real asset, not to just your sister but to everybody here. That haircutting party was a bit over the top," she smiled, "but Billy Yates would vote for you for president right now because of it. You and Sarah have made such a difference for Billy and for Kelly Cassidy, too. She had always been a hard case, sullen and unresponsive, until you two adopted her."

"Oh, well. Maybe the time was just right." I made a mental note to try and call Kelly, just to see how she was getting along.

"Anyway, Annie, you seem to have become my unofficial morale officer around here. Keep up the good work," she invited. "We have a young man coming in tomorrow or Wednesday, by the way. He’s had surgery for a brain tumor, and isn’t in very good shape. Take him under your wing, would you?" Sure, I agreed.

Sarah let out a big sigh of relief when I came back up smiling, and told her what a sweet, friendly, helpful, old-fashioned girl I was. "I knew it all along," she grinned.

I lost a nail today, my second since I’ve been here. I’d hoped they would stay intact for the full six weeks. Oh, well.

Tuesday, July 14

It was rainy from the git-go today, scattered thundershowers with just plain showers in between. They run a shuttle from Hope Haven to the children’s hospital which we usually ignore. Today we just missed it. I was wearing jeans and the printed top I wanted to wear yesterday. So we went back to our room, parked our hair and put on scarves, stuffed a dry set of clothes in a small duffel, and I rolled her across the street through the downpour. I had wrapped plastic around Sara’s leg and across her lap. We had also stuck our swim gear and a hair dryer in the bag (not for its conventional use, obviously—even Sara’s brows and lashes were thinning out rather badly by this time). When we arrived at PT, we went swimming, so any dampness around the cushion part of Sara’s prosthesis would have time to dry out. Then a change of clothes, followed by working together on some exercise equipment, still with her leg stashed in a corner. I helped Sarah onto the exercise bike, to show her she could cycle with one leg, as well as to work on her hip muscles. I had fashioned a velcro strap to help keep her foot on the pedal during the upswing. Later, I figured, we could try the same thing with the prosthesis.

We took a break about 10. Kevin sat down with us, and we sipped cokes.

"I have a question," she asked Kevin. "I have to use the walker all the time when I walk now. And it feels like I walk for miles every day, but I know that compared to what I used to do, I’m not walking far at all. Will I need the walker this fall, when I start back to high school? Or will I have to spend most of my time in the chair? What can I expect?"

Kevin explained to her that since she was young, strong, and most important, stubborn, she was doing quite well with her therapy. "Assuming you stay in good health, and don’t have any setbacks, you should be ready to walk when you go back to school. I would recommend that you use a cane, and you’ll be working with that before you leave here. But with all the jostling you receive, a cane will help you keep your balance, and preserve your strength. There will be some days when you’re tired or not feeling good that the walker will be your best friend, and other days you will need the chair."

"The walker? I was hoping nobody back home would see it. It makes me feel like a little old lady in a nursing home." Sarah said.

"Maybe we could jazz it up a little bit," I pondered. "We’ll talk to Mark about it. He may have some ideas to make that walker look downright trendy."

Kevin went on to explain that it would take Sarah anywhere from 6-18 months to achieve her full potential with the prosthesis. Sarah frowned a bit when he said that her gait would never be quite like it was before, but he quickly explained that it wouldn’t be nearly as noticeable as she thought it would.

Wednesday, July 15

Lost nail number three sometime during the night, and couldn’t find it in the bedding this morning. I’ve been painting the uncovered nails blue, but they are noticeable. I can’t say they stick out like a sore thumb, because they don’t stick out. It’s the other ones that do. Sarah Beth was really surprised. The acrylics are very long lasting. She wondered if Joan Kim attached them less tightly, to make it easier on me to remove them later.

Sarah Beth and I worked out together on some of the exercise machines in PT today. One of the things I haven’t mentioned is that in addition to learning how to walk in a new way, she’s also building up her arm and upper body strength, so when she uses crutches or the wheelchair, she’ll have more endurance. I told her that I needed to work out with her just to make sure that she wouldn’t end up being able to beat me at arm wrestling.

We had an official conference today with Kevin, Mrs. Burdugo, and Sara’s oncologist—sort of a half-way mark evaluation. Everything looked good.

I called Reverend McGrail for an appointment. I’ll see her tomorrow.

The new kid came today. He was in the living room when we got back from chemo. His mother, a well-dressed lady, was with him.

"Hi, I’m Roger," he grinned as he greeted us.

"Hi, I’m Julie Holding, but everybody here calls me Annie, because my sister Sarah does. Nice to meet you, Roger." Sarah said hi too. Roger’s a big guy that you could tell used to be bigger. He uses a wheelchair—not because he’s paralyzed, he explained, but because the tumor that was just operated on destroyed the hearing in one ear, and totally messed up his balance. He was wearing expensive looking but well-worn cowboy boots, faded jeans, and a nice denim shirt. His head was shaved, and some still angry-looking scars traced a box on his skull, showing where they had operated. Brain cancer, I had heard. He was only fifteen.

"What’s your last name, Roger?" Sarah asked.

"Cameron."

"Where are you from, Roger Cameron," I asked.

"Cameron." I thought that his hearing problem had caused him to misunderstand my question, so I repeated it more clearly.

"No, I heard," he said. "I’m Roger Cameron and I’m from Cameron."

"Wow. The whole town’s named after you?" Sarah asked.

"No. It was named before me. But it was named after my great-great grandfather." Roger talked even more slowly and with more of a western drawl than I did in my Julie role, so it took awhile to converse. But you could tell that in spite of being a shy kid, he was really enjoying talking with (he thought) two teen girls who weren’t turned off by his condition. That’s one neat thing about Hope Haven. You have to learn to accept people as they are. His mother stayed in the background, but you could tell that she was happy that her son was finding new friends. He had just come over from inpatient status at the children’s hospital, and would be here for several weeks to go over for chemotherapy and physical therapy, a program similar to Sarah Beth’s. His chemo would be with heavier doses, though, since the surgery wasn’t completely successful. Parts of the cancer had wrapped itself around critical areas, so they couldn’t remove it all without destroying vital parts of his brain. The chemo, and later, radiation therapy, could slow or stop the cancer, at least for awhile, but the odds weren’t good. I was amazed at how open both he and his mother were about the seriousness of his situation. The kid was dying, he knew it, and he was dealing with it. I volunteered to help him in PT—I had some pretty good ideas about what Kevin would want to try to keep his muscles from atrophying.

Thursday, July 16

The prosthetics people were fussing around Sarah Beth today, making adjustments and measurements for the more realistic looking leg that would replace the mechanical looking one. Kevin and I spent time with Roger, working up some routines to work with him on. Roger was still so weak from his ordeal was passive exercises—us or machines moving his limbs for him. I asked if water therapy was a possibility. It was, Kevin explained, but they would have to be very careful to compensate for Roger’s lack of balance. With the proper flotation devices and an assistant on each side—one of the staff people on one side and me on the other—we could do it, starting next week. As the machine moved Roger’s arm, I sat by him and we talked. I didn’t know rich kids could be shy and sweet, but Roger was. A lot of kids thought he was stuck up, he told me, and he didn’t have many friends. He had wanted to ask a girl that he thought was real pretty to a dance last Fall, but he didn’t. A tear rolled down his cheek, and he said, "That was probably my last chance to ever go on a date, and I blew it. I’ve never even been kissed by a girl, except for mom, of course, and some obnoxious aunts."

I smiled and shook my head. "Roger, it would ruin my professional status as an official PT volunteer to plant a big smacker on a client. And besides I don’t kiss on first dates."

His eyes grew wide. "Oh, no! I wasn’t hinting or asking…I mean…I…I’m sorry."

I patted the shoulder of the arm that wasn’t being cranked up and down by the machine. "It’s okay, Roger. I knew you didn’t mean anything by it. I shouldn’t have teased you. I can see your circulation is all better, though. Your face is all red. You’re a sweet kid, Roger." We continued to talk. I told him about life in Fort Russell, adapting my own stories into a female context, and throwing in some of Julie’s basketball experiences. I told him about my boyfriend—to all the people we talked to, Sarah Beth and I both had boyfriends, and both of them were named Mark, but with different last names, of course. He told me that up until a few months ago, he spent all his spare time on the ranch, working hard in the outdoors and loving the wide open prairie.

After lunch, I changed into the blue floral print skirt and the blouse that went with it, one of the outfits that mom had brought for me the day after my big makeover. It was attractive but conservative, the kind of thing a girl would wear to go on a job interview, or to talk to a pastor. Sarah Beth was tired and feeling the effects of the chemo, so she stayed in the room and rested.

I wasn't sure what I was getting into when I drove to the Presbyterian church near the campus to talk with Rev. McGrail. In a way, I was glad she was a woman minister—it seemed a little less threatening somehow to tell a woman about my situation than telling a man. When I first introduced myself as Annie, she remembered that we had visited the church before with our parents. "Oh, yes. I remember how delighted I was that you all chose to worship with us—you looked like such a nice family. Then I was disappointed when the guest register showed you lived out of town. Now that I know you and your sister are at Hope Haven, I'll be glad to come by and visit."

It really got her attention when I swore her to secrecy—confidentiality, she called it—and told her I was not only Annie, I was Mark. She explained later that at first she thought I might have a multiple personality disorder, then gender dysphoria—being miserable and feeling out of place in the gender one's born into. I had the feeling that she could handle either situation without losing her cool, and soon began comfortable talking with this tiny woman with half-glasses and short gray hair. She mostly listened, which is what I mostly needed—just to have somebody to talk to.

When she did talk, she gave me a lot to think about. It helped me surface and be able to name a lot of feelings I had stirring around. Here are some comments I want to remember.

"The tension you live under must be terrific. You've talked about the tension of being discovered, the tension of having to misrepresent who you are and to lie to cover up who you are, when you are clearly not a dishonest person. Then there's the sexual tension of being Sara's boyfriend while trying to be her sister."

"You are so utterly believable as Annie, in all the little things. I once knew a man who wanted to be a woman, and he even got to the point of living as one full time, but you are more believable than he was. I think it's because he wanted to be the sexy, glamorous woman that he fantasized about, and you're just a nice, ordinary, pleasant girl."

"You've come to like Annie quite a lot, haven't you? I know that you are doing all this for your love of Sara, but I'd say that Annie has become another girl in your life."

"When you answer questions or supply information to others about Annie, you say that you answer for Julie when it comes to questions about your past, but you answer for Annie—with a little bit of Mark mixed in—when it comes to how you're feeling or what you want to do now. Interesting. In a way, you don't see yourself as being dishonest, because you are so deep into your Annie role that you really see yourself as her."

"I'm concerned about your transition back to Mark. I know that you want to live as Mark again, but I don't think that you can just switch Annie off like you'd turn off a light. I'm not suggesting that you wear dresses, or anything, but you've changed your whole emotional frame of reference, and you can't deny to your inner self that that has happened. I suspect that there's a lot about Annie that you would do well to accept and incorporate into Mark. No, I don't mean the obvious things, like wardrobe or feminine mannerisms—that could get you in a lot of trouble. But Annie has some wonderful qualities that I'm sure were there in Mark, but maybe not as near the surface."

We agreed to see each other again, and that it would help to have at least one three-way session, with Sarah Beth joining us. It was a big relief to me to have permission from an objective outsider that it was okay for me to like being Annie, that this wasn't somehow betraying or endangering Mark.

I got back in time to take Sarah on a walk before supper, so we could talk freely about what I'd discovered. Sarah looked back from her wheelchair at me, and said "I'm glad you like Annie, Mark. I never realized either how she'd take on this much of a life of her own. When we're back together at home as Mark and Sara, I'll really be happy. But it makes me feel good to know that Annie will always be a part of you, too." I couldn't help but kiss her.

Friday, July 17

Every afternoon after we get back from chemo or our other afternoon schedules, I shave, and then put on new makeup for the rest of the day. My beard isn’t heavy, but it is dark enough I don’t want it to show through. The past few days, Sarah has come to the bathroom door, and watched me, smiling, as I strip down to my panties (no, I didn’t bring any guy’s underwear—too much of a security risk), clean off the old makeup, lather up, and start mowing down my whiskers.

"Watcha doing?" I asked, as she sat there.

"Standing guard—or sitting guard. And I like to watch you do that."

"Why?"

"Most of the time I need you to be Annie, because Annie keeps me safe and sane around here," she said in a very soft voice, so nobody walking by in the hallway could hear. "But I miss Mark, and now, if I ignore the blue panties and blue nails, it’s Mark I see. I love you, Mark." I went over and kissed her, smearing her face with shaving cream in the process. She kissed back, and didn’t pull away. "But please"—she whispered—"we’d better stay safe. It’s time to be Annie again."

Saturday July 18

Every Saturday morning, Sarah Beth and I make our way down to the laundry room and do our week’s worth of laundry. I’m getting to be quite the washerwoman. I tote, she sorts, I toss the stuff from machine to machine, she folds, and lately, I’ve been ironing. It’s easier for me to stand, so she’s taught me all the tricks. I’m pretty good at it, too. It’s all a new experience for me. Mom usually does all the laundry—Dad’s not a slouch with housework, don’t get me wrong—so I had a lot to learn. It’s a great time just to be together, to relax, and to talk. It’s funny how you can enjoy just doing the ordinary things together, like folding undies.

Julie came in as we were finishing, and helped us carry the stuff upstaris. She had gotgen a ride over this weekend, instead of parental units—one of them had to work Saturday. She had asked if she could take the car back to Westlands with her, because she needed it for some college functions. We met her at a mall and ate lunch together. Sarah and I both wore western-cut long denim skirts and white blouses. We wore our wigs. Julie promised us a special treat, and drove us to a full service beauty and nail shop (oh, no!). Since it was a short distance from the lot to the shop, Sarah walked, using her walker.

For Sara, it was to be a facial, a wig styling and tinting, and a manicure. We didn’t want them to touch my makeup, since this time the operators didn’t know about my male identity. She signed me up for a replacement set of nails, a pedicure, and an eyebrow trim. (The wax job from my initial makeover had gone by the wayside, and Sarah had been plucking new hairs out to keep me presentable—a major ouch.)

The nail tech, a middle-aged blonde named Augusta (call me Gussie), began tinkering and puttering on my nails. I explained that I would need to remove them in two weeks because of a new job.

"If you’re only going to keep them for two weeks, do you want to play around with some longer ones?" Gussie asked with a bright smile. She pointed to her own multi-colored claws, at least half an inch longer than mine. I saw Julie grin.

"No!" I almost shouted. Then I smiled. "No, thank you. I’m doing volunteer work at the children’s hospital, and I was thinking I might go shorter this time." Gussie nodded.

"Ah, come on, Annie," Julie said. "It’s just for two more weeks. They’ve been your trademark this long. And they go so well with that fashion statement hairdo of yours." I gave in, and agreed to keep the nails at their previous length. Julie offered to pay for an airbrush job, so I could get a new look on them.

"Okay, but it has to be something in blue. That’s a trademark, too." We talked about it awhile, and came up with a terrific idea. Gussie started with a dark midnight blue near the base, and then blended in lighter shades, through royal blue and a light blue near my previous color, to a blue-white tip, almost a spectrum effect.

Julie was impressed. "When you take those off, Annie, keep them and lock them away in a little treasure chest to remember them by. They’re pieces of art." I hadn’t had a pedicure before, but it felt good to have Gussie work on my feet. She painted the toenails in solid colors, but kept the spectrum effect across my toes, working from midnight blue on my big toes to near white on the two outbounds.

Then I changed chairs for the eyebrow waxing. This I wasn’t looking forward to, but it would save the pain of daily plucking for awhile. She brushed on the wax, let it hardened, and yanked it off, on each brow. Ouch again.

"Oops," the operator mumbled. I did not like the sound of that.

"Oops?" I asked.

The operator stared at me intently, then smiled. "Not to worry. They look great. I know that you didn’t want any more taken out than you had previously, though, and the wax spread a little more than I thought it would. But I do think they look better, though."

I looked in the mirror. My once bushy brows, trimmed and shaped a month ago, were definitely more feminine—still not ultra-thin fashion model feminine, but they added a certain daintiness to my face that wouldn’t be welcome when I got my old body back in two weeks. But what could I do? Ask her to put them back in? So I just smiled graciously and agreed they looked very nice. When Sarah Beth saw me, she just raised her own eyebrow a bit. The beautician tinted my brows a little darker, so they were more near my natural color.

In the car, though, I angrily asked Julie. "Did you put her up to this with my eyebrows?" She had played enough tricks on me that I was suspicious.

"No, Annie. Really, I didn’t. It was an honest mistake. If you feel self-conscious about them when we get back home and get you back to manliness, I’ll show you how to fill them out with an eyebrow pencil." Then she grinned. "But since you’ve shaved your head, we could just shave off the eyebrows, too, and that would solve the problem." That might be better, I thought. It would look goofy, but not girlish.

"No!" Sarah shouted. "I like his eyebrows. And Annie—Mark—when you do go back to looking like Mark, you don’t have to keep your head shaved just for my sake. I’m not as gutsy as you or Amanda about my appearance, and when I get home among the kids I’ll have to go to school with, I plan on wearing my wig." She pointed at the freshly styled one on her head. The beautician had done a nice job of giving it a more teen-friendly, natural look. And the color was close enough to Sara’s own, though not quite there, in my estimation. "And you being bald to be in solidarity with me is a wonderful, romantic gesture, but it will just call other kid’s attention to the fact that I’m bald underneath this. I like your hair, and I want to be able to run my fingers through it again. And besides—your senior pictures are coming up in less than two months. I don’t want people to think you’re a skinhead." Sarah Beth hath spoken. She was right, too. A bald head and girlish eyebrows wouldn’t look too great together on a guy. I don’t think that I’ll wear the five earrings for the photo shoot, either.

Julie dropped us off around the corner from Hope Haven and drove back to college.

Sunday July 19

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

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

Sarah and I rode with mom and dad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Monday, July 20

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Tuesday, July 21

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wednesday, July 22

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thursday, July 23

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

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

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

Friday, July 24

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I—I’m sorry," I squeaked.

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

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

"Sara—Miss Holding—now let me—" Kevin was stammering now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Thank you," I said.

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

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

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

Saturday, July 25

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Cool," he grinned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sunday, July 26

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Annie, or Mark," I teased gently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Monday, July 27.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tuesday, July 28

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Afraid?"

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

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

We hugged awhile longer.

Wednesday, July 29

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

all agreed to go get ice cream together after supper.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sure, Roger," I said.

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

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

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

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

Thursday, July 30

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

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

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

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

"Yes, ma’am," I responded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I love you, too, Roberta."

Friday, July 31

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

When I put on my Minnie Mouse tee shirt and pink shorts this morning, I remembered that it was what I wore when I started this journal. Now I’m near the end. I had to promise Sarah Beth that I would change clothes at noon to look more presentable for the conference at 1:30. The Holdings are coming to be there, and to stay over so they can bring us home tomorrow! The longest six week of our lives is almost over. I can be a guy again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Right," Sarah grinned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Mark."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Saturday, August 1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

FINALE

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

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

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

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

The End

 

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