This narrative contains adult subject matter. It should not be read by anyone who is not entitled to have access to adult issues under any and all laws that govern the reader’s rights and privileges. As it relates to transgender issues, those who find the subject matter offensive should stop now and read no further.

 

MORE CHANGES FOR THE BETTER            by: Virginia Kane

 

Chapter One

Miss Morgan stayed late into the evening. I was in heaven. We sat in the living room for a time, with my head nestled up against her shoulder, my face within an inch of her warm bosom. We talked for over an hour about my parents, friends, the neighbors, and what I should do about school, come the fall. Again, I swear, she was a lot like my mom. She had the same warm, caring disposition. Mom was more attentive to my needs than her own. I wanted to tell Miss Morgan that she reminded me, but then, I may have insulted her. Mom was quite heavy, while Miss Morgan’s body was, well, not skinny---no, voluptuous, yeah, voluptuous.

She ran a hand through my straggly hair, commenting on how long it was. After I got over blushing, I explained that I tried cutting my hair myself once to save money, but did such a rotten job, dad had to finish what I had started. I ended up with a crew cut, which I hated. It made my face look fatter and my ears stick out.

Since then, I just let it grow out, so dad wouldn’t scalp me again, combing all the hair at my temples back over my ears.

"So, you prefer your hair long like this, eh Donny?"

"It’s okay. It’s better than the crew cut. My ears don’t look so big. I’d like to get it styled better, but I can’t waste any money, especially now, with dad sick."

"I’m glad you realize your father’s condition is an illness. It isn’t entirely his fault: the drinking. People under stress use what they feel works Donny, and alcohol can help an adult person put aside worries when used in moderation. That’s why we have to put the blame on the alcohol, not your father. After dinner, I want you to help me find all the remaining alcohol in the house, so we can get rid of it to remove temptation, when your father returns.

Besides, if we demonstrate to the social worker from the county that there is little cause to worry in the way of temptations available for you to misuse, we probably can relieve her very nervous attitude toward your being alone here. She has a job to protect. Let’s make it easy for her. Shall We?"

"I’m all for that idea. She was gonna make me go to some orphanage if you didn’t step forward to agree to look in on me, daily. Then what would have happened? With no one here to keep an eye on things, someone can break in and steal the only things of value dad and I have left. I’m sorry to be such a bother to you."

"Donny, I tried to explain something to you earlier. It’s very involved, and I tried to justify some things, so you’d understand better. It was a mistake. It was a good idea, but premature. For now, I want you to trust that my volunteering is as much for my benefit as it for yours. I didn’t do it for your sake alone. I need someone to care for in my life. I’ve been on my own and alone for a long time now, too long!"

"Alone? How can someone so pretty be alone? There has to be ‘tons’ of guys out there jumping for the chance to ask you for a date. If I was a little older and could take you out, I’d jump at the chance. You’re real pretty!"

"I’m not keen on starting a love relationship at the present time, Donny. You’ll understand more about what men want, as you get older. Men my age expect a woman that looks like me to do more than just kiss them if they go out on a date. You’re coming into the age now of discovery. Young men your age start to feel an urge to explore into the sensations your body is demanding. I saw how you reacted at the counter earlier. I know what your inner feelings toward me are right now. I need a different kind of love, right now: family love, not that kind of love."

"Why don’t you want a guy you can really like, you know, the kind that wants to have a family, settle down with one woman and get married?"

"I didn’t have many choices when I was your age. When I got a break and was able to go to college, I decided to become a lawyer and start a career. Men feel funny about girls with ambition. They want a girl to stay home, raise kids and put the food out on the table every night when they get home. They want to be the ‘bread winner’. They don’t want to compete for that role with an educated woman like me. I don’t want a guy that thinks like that. I need someone who is willing to share the household chores. Until I find someone like that, I’ll continue to live by myself. Having a man of my own to look after isn’t extremely important to me."

"I’ll share the chores. Heck, I do them all now, anyway. You can look after me!"

"Fine, you can be the man I’ll look after, but I’ll continue to look after you as a son until your dad is well. Don’t expect me to share any of your household chores here. I have a place of my own to keep straight."

"I’ll share those chores too, in exchange for your looking in on me. It’s the least I can do, ma’am. I can clean, do laundry, even cook for you, if you show me how."

"You’ll be busy for at least your senior year of high school before long. Getting your high school diploma will be your first priority. With this house to take care of, you won’t have enough time to look after another. Besides, your dad expects you to get a part-time job to help out with the expenses. We don’t know when he’ll be able to return to work, do we?"

We went back to the kitchen and continued talking while she showed me how to cook and prepare the fresh foods she bought instead of canned goods. That was the best meal I had in a long time. By the time we finished clearing the dishes, it was late. I asked her if she wanted to stay and watch the late news, but she begged off. We talked over coffee, instead. She was feeling me out about how we were going to meet the county’s requirements on a regular basis.

She said she’d be back in the morning, after she ran some errands. She wanted to drive me over to the hospital to visit dad. After she left, I watched a late movie and went to bed. I was too tired to remember to do what I had planned earlier. If I did, I wouldn’t have used her image for inspiration, as I planned. It would be like using an image of an older sister, if I had one. That wouldn’t be right.

 

Chapter Two.

I woke to the phone ringing. It was late. Miss Morgan was upset. She was on her way and expected me to make coffee. She was bringing breakfast, but made it clear, she expected me to be up and have breakfast ready for her in the future, with the foods she wanted, instead of the ‘fat pills’ I planned on. That’s what she called chocolate donuts. She arrived just as the coffee was ready.

We planned out the day. She had a checklist with her that she must have set up after she left the night before. We went over it, making changes to compensate for the things I wanted to do that she didn’t know about. I usually did the laundry on Saturday mornings, changing loads while I cut the grass. She insisted on our going to the hospital first. No problem, I told her I’d do the laundry and lawn later, after she left for the day. She had other plans. She wanted to take an inventory of all the clothes we had, to see what needed mending, replacement or additions.

On the way to the hospital, we reviewed my new daily schedule, to make sure it included everything. Seeing dad was number one on the list, until school would start. She even had my meals planned, snacks and all. Then, she insisted that I had to start exercising, to get rid of some of my excess weight. That wasn’t good. I shrunk back into the car seat and grumbled.

"You have to exercise, Donny! If you expect to eat hearty, you need to burn it off! Otherwise, you’ll continue to be plump!"

Plump? Guys aren’t plump! "Aw, who needs it?"

"You do! If you drop a few pounds, you’ll find a job easier. You told me no one wants to hire a chubby kid. In fact, your posture already suffers from the extra load you are carrying. I’ll bet you’ll need a whole new wardrobe in smaller sizes before you return to school. Think of it, Donny. Girls will look twice if you drop a size or two. Bad habits creep up on you. It’s important to offset them with good habits. You need to exercize. I’ll help. I’ll set up a routine for you."

We didn’t get to see dad. We talked to a doctor. Dad had somehow snuck out of the hospital and got loaded while Miss Morgan was over last night. I thought I had heard some noise out in the yard. It must have been dad, but he never tried to come into the house while she was there. Some bar called the police to pick him up after he caused trouble. They refused to serve him any more liquor, after he got too drunk. He became abusive to other customers, mooching drinks.

Dad would have to be put into a secure section of the detox unit. The doctors already did it, saying he was an obvious threat to himself. The police verified his condition when they returned him. He admitted being under medical supervision when they were going to put him in the ‘drunk tank’ at the city jail. They returned him to the hospital instead. God knows what might have happened if he didn’t admit he was an alcoholic in recovery. Miss Morgan signed some papers, as my guardian, attesting to the doctors’ notification of next of kin.

On the way back home, Miss Morgan was very quiet. When we got to the house, she searched everywhere for booze, with my help. We found bottles stashed in the basement, in the rafters, in the small garage out back, and all over in dad’s bedroom, even in the attic. Most of them were empty, but not all. They were after she poured everything down the drain of the kitchen sink and rinsed out the sink.

We filled a garbage can with the empty bottles. I didn’t realize how much booze dad planted all over the house. He wasn’t taking any chances that he’d run out if and when the liquor stores were closed. That’s when I realized just how bad his drinking was. Before that, I thought he was in control. Obviously, he wasn’t.

We drove over to Miss Morgan’s apartment. She wasn’t talking much, like she was deep in thought. I kept my mouth shut. I didn’t want to discuss it. If I did, I’d be criticizing my own father. It isn’t right for a kid like me, with problems of his own to point a finger at a parent and pass judgment.

Finally, after a long time, sitting in her kitchen over coffee, she looked at me with a tear in her eye. "We have to make some changes, Donny. We have to close up your house. We may have to sell it to help pay the cost of your dad’s care."

"But it’s my house, too."

"Yes, that’s true. Your mom left you her interest in her will. It’s in a trust until you are old enough to own real property outright. I know, because I’m the trustee. It won’t be easy. I will be able to save your interest, maybe your dad’s. Your dad is incompetent for the time being. The papers your mom drew up a few years ago took what’s happening now into consideration. Creditors can attach his interest for his debts, but they won’t be able to break the trust and evict you, as long as you can remain self-cognizant. Don’t worry about the legal mumbo jumbo. I think it will be best for you to stay here with me for a few days."

"I’d rather stay at my house, if you don’t mind, Miss Morgan. Mom would want me to. I have to take care of it while Dad is sick. I can’t stay here. What will happen if it stays vacant too long? The county social worker will blame me."

"What if your dad gets out again and comes home in an irrational state of mind, in search of the liquor he stashed away? What will he do if he discovers we got rid of it? He’ll blame you, Donny. I don’t want to see the two of you bitterly fight. You’ll give him money to buy liquor, if that happens. Won’t you?"

"I suppose, if I don’t have another choice."

"I know you would. I would, too. You couldn’t stand by to watch your dad suffer from withdrawal. We have to do what is right and best for him. We can’t let him have a place to run to if he sneaks out again. Sooner or later, he’s going to be able to get released. When he first gains freedom, he’ll head for his liquor stash.

The only way to prevent that from happening, is to completely change the place, so he won’t even recognize it as his safe haven, his prime resource, or we can sell it to buy something else with your half, and pay off creditors with his half."

"I don’t want to sell. It was mom’s house. Dad was seldom there. He was always on the road. He didn’t drink when he was out on the road working. Once he gets back to work,---"

"I don’t think that will happen. They won’t give him his sales position back. That’s water over the dam. Someone else took the job over. He’d have to start all over.

That’s a tough assignment, starting from scratch, with a ‘monkey on his back’.

He’d be better off going into some other line of work, a complete career change, without the stress, like I did. We have to think this out clearly, Donny. You have to spend the night here for a while. It’ll be safer, until we figure out what to do."

"What did you do before you were a lawyer, Miss Morgan?"

"Let’s say I was in sales. It isn’t important. That’s over."

 

Chapter Three.

I agreed to spend a week or so at her place. I had to sleep in the cotton pajamas she let me borrow that first night. I got a woodie; thinking that her body was in it before mine. I got off in the bathroom, before going to bed. I didn’t want her to see the effect her pajamas had on me. I woke up halfway through the night with a woodie, from dreaming about wearing in the pajamas and filling them out the way she would. I had to sneak into the john without her seeing me and whack off again. Wow, was I hot! I did the same thing in the morning.

The next day, a Sunday, we went back and I packed up some of my clothes. We cleaned out the fridge and locked up. I didn’t use pajamas, normally. I didn’t tell her until that night. She would have stopped at a store to buy me some. I wanted to wear hers again to see if they’d caused the reaction they did the night before.

We went to a bookstore. She bought me some books on the subject of alcoholics and how to deal with the problem if a family member is an alcoholic. She bought a few books for herself, too. I saw parts of some of the titles. She wanted to read about adoptions, teen psychology, and puberty. Apparently, she decided she had made a long-term commitment, not a temporary arrangement, until dad was out of the woods and working again.

We spent the afternoon reading. I got a crash education on alcoholism. I found out I had known nothing, learned little and had a lot of learning to do to be of any help to dad. We decided that until school started, we’d meet each morning over breakfast; plan the day’s activity and exercize schedule, and a study period to glean what we could from books and other resources.

She showed me her computer, and how to log on. She had a ton of programs on law, and her "blotter" or "desktop" made access to several things easy. We spent the evening on the computer playing games. She was surprised that I didn’t have a computer. We couldn’t afford one, so the only savvy I had was from using the ones in the school’s computer lab. She promised to correct that.

I wondered what I’d have done if she didn’t jump in to bail me out. I was getting used to being with her more and more.

Before retiring, she told me it wasn’t proper for me not to wear pajamas while I was visiting someone. She presented me with another pair of pajamas, instead of cotton ones I’d worn the night before. The pale pastel cloth looked weird.

"What kind of cloth is this? They’re all wrinkled funny."

"They’re a textured cotton, Donny. The wrinkles are called crepe. The texture is woven in to help the pajamas feel more comfortable. It’s the only other pair of plain pajamas I have for you to use. Try them. If you like them, we’ll go shopping to find you some of your own with the same texture. What did you wear at night at the camp you attended?"

"Swim trunks, boxer style. Other kids did, too."

"Hmm! I see. I suppose that would work fine. Funny. I never thought of that. Did you bring a pair of swim trunks with you?"

"No, I forgot. I was worried about leaving the house empty and didn’t think of it." I was fidgeting. Lying about the swim trucks made me nervous.

"Did you conveniently forget the swim trunks because you wanted to wear a pair of MY pajamas again, Donny?"

"I don’t ever wear pajamas. I couldn’t remember to pack pajamas I don’t have."

"I was talking about bringing your swim trunks, Donny. You remembered to wear them at camp. Be honest, why didn’t you bring them?"

"Okay. I guess I’m a lousy liar. You already know. I wanted to wear the ones that I wore last night again. Wearing them gave me chills and Goosebumps, because they were yours." She broke out into laughter. I turned ten shades of red.

"I hope you remembered to bring under shorts, Donny. You’ll be wanting to wear my panties, next. Ha! Ha! Ha! How sweet! You’re the first man to try to get into my panties in a long time. Don’t let your hopes get up too high, young man. Then again, you did offer to do my laundry for me. Let me think." She watched me get redder. I wasn’t thinking about her underwear when I offered to do chores for her. I really didn’t, but she was making it sound as if I wanted to peek at her stuff. If I had known she think that, I wouldn’t have been so eager to offer.

"You’re bound to come across some of my under things, sooner or later, Donny.

I don’t always remember to clean up after myself in the bathroom when I’m in a hurry. There is only one bathroom in the apartment, sooo---tell me. What will you do if you see some of my underwear in there?" She pointed to the bathroom, the bathroom where I wanked off three times already

"I dunno. I used to see my mom’s. They didn’t bother me."

"I don’t think that’s the same thing, Donny. I think my things DO bother you, a lot! Otherwise, you wouldn’t want to wear them. Tell me, was it the feel of the cloth, the fact that a woman wore them, or is it because they’re mine?"

"I-I-I-I." She was teasing me, and enjoyed doing it. I wanted to cry.

She reached out across the table and touched the back of my hand. "All men like the feel of women’s things. That’s why women wear pretty things, to get men all excited. Don’t worry about it. You’re okay, Donny. Nothing is wrong with wanting to feel things that are nice. Some men like it so much; they wear satin or nylon underwear, themselves. Maybe you’re one of them. There are several brands made for men. We’ll find out. I’ll get you some of your own."

"N-No, don’t! You’ll know." I stopped. I said too much.

"What will I know, Donny? I’ll know my undies excite you? Too late! I know that already. If they didn’t excite you, I might be worried. If you don’t want to feel that way, something is wrong. It’s perfectly normal for a young boy to experiment. I’ll be glad to help, when the time comes. It’s better for you to get it off of your chest and get used to the sight and feel of unmentionables. Otherwise, you will never stop undressing me with your eyes. You’ve been doing it since the day we met."

"I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t mean to do it, but I can’t help it. You’re the only pretty woman I ever got close enough to being with one on one. Mom was different. I don’t know how to stop myself from thinking about the way you look and move."

"I’m not sure I want you to stop, Donny. It is kind of fun. I like being admired. Call it vanity if you’d like, but I don’t feel threatened when you secretly undress me with your eyes. I need someone’s affirmation that I look nice as much as any woman. As long as we keep your interest in my body within proper limits, we will both enjoy your innocent attention to my femininity. We’ll cultivate it properly, with some discretion so we won’t need to be embarrassed about it. If matters get out of hand, I’ll try to let you know. You can’t be lusting after my body when others can see. That’ll get us both into trouble. We don’t want that to happen, do we?"

"No, I guess not. What would people think?"

"Exactly! Let’s make a deal. The next time we’re alone together, and I notice that you are excited; I don’t want you to run off to hide your reaction. I want you to be candid when I ask you about the way you feel about me being close to you in private. We can use your interest in my body to practice dealing with involuntary compulsive attraction. It may help us to understand how a normal, mature person can become addicted to a substance, such as alcohol. Deal?"

"Really? You don’t mind?"

"Not the way you do it. You are usually polite and complimentary when you gaze at my bosom. When I walk, you check my legs and hips like other men, but your look is critical, not lustful. It seems you search to find a flaw, and don’t. My ego is bolstered and my mood improves when you smile at the way my calves move when I walk up a flight of stairs. Didn’t you think I noticed you looking?"

"Gee! I was trying not to be obvious. I probably looked like a silly kid, drooling."

"Not at all. You were a perfect gentleman. I wasn’t making fun of you earlier when I laughed. The thought entered my mind that you couldn’t help yourself, any more than your dad can help needing liquor to wash away his sorrow over his loss of your mom. I only laughed because we’re both sensitive to your dad’s addiction, and not our own. I wondered how to let you know that I know you were watching. I thought you’d like to know the similarity between our own actions and your dad’s. If we’re not careful, your need can be just like his.

You probably look at the girls in school and the girls cruising the malls the same way. They notice. They don’t show it, but you can believe me, they notice. They notice every guy whose head follows as they pass. Do you think girls spend so much time in the malls to spend money? They go to the malls to strut their stuff!

Wearing pretty clothes and being lusted after is addictive as alcohol. Some girls can’t help themselves. All they think about is the way they look. We two can talk about that kind of need. It’s called compulsive desire. We can discover ways to deal with it. You could use some encouragement to improve your interest in the way you look. We’ll use our talks to improve your self-pride in how you look.

That’s enough for now. In the morning, I want a full report on how those pajamas feel against your skin. You might as well feel comfy and learn something during your visit with me. We’ll work it in with dealing with your dad’s problem.

 

Chapter Four.

Monday morning. I spent the whole night tossing in my sleep in the soft, crepe pajamas, trying not to be so excited by the nifty sensations all over my body. I knew she’d expect me to describe how I felt, so I tried concentrating on the feel of the cloth’s texture, instead of her prior wearing of the smooth pajamas. Well, I tried. It wasn’t easy, but I had to have something intelligent to tell her about the feeling, not that wearing her pj’s gave me a woodie that kept me "up" all night.

Getting out of bed required effort. She noticed my puffy eyes and irritable mood. "I can tell you had a rough night, Donny. A cold shower will cure that. I’ll make the coffee and breakfast, this morning. You jump into the shower. Afterwards, you’ll feel much better. Don’t worry. We’ll get you some pajamas that don’t keep you up half the night. I could hear you toss and turn all night long.

Maybe your wearing my pajamas isn’t a good idea, after all. You need your rest to be effective. We’ll skip a report about how they make you feel. We’ll talk about it after you have a chance to reflect on the experience. You have a lot of reading to do about alcoholism while I’m working. There’s no pressure, so take your time. If you fall asleep while reading, don’t worry about it. It’ll be safe for you to spend a good part of the morning alone at your place. I’ll stop by for lunch and bring something for you to eat. Then we’ll talk about adjusting your schedule to utilize the time I’m at work to good advantage to catch up on your chores and things."

She handed me a list of books to withdraw from the local library. She ran the list off on her laptop computer. It included a list of phone numbers that I could use to reach her, the hospital, the lawyer and the county caseworker if I encountered any difficulty. I folded the list and stuck it into my pocket. I had the entire morning to accomplish the task of finding the books she wanted.

She was organizing things for me. I appreciated her attention to detail. I’d never have thought about studying the effects substance abuse had on people to be of assistance to everyone by at least understanding what happens when someone can’t resist the temptation to the point of jeopardizing their health and happiness.

After she dropped off at the house, I went to the library on my beat-up bike. That took me half the morning. I stayed at the house, glancing through the books she asked me to read. She was right. It didn’t take long for me to fall asleep, with a book on my lap, sitting in the living room on dad’s comfortable overstuffed chair.

I woke to the sound of women talking. The two mature next-door neighbor ladies were in the kitchen with Miss Morgan. I didn’t want to interrupt, so I stayed where I was and listened. It sounded as if they both knew her from dealing with her at the bank. Her resolving the problem of my need of a guardian pleased them. It seems that the whole neighborhood already knew about dad’s hospitalization. They were interested in my welfare but declined assisting outwardly. They didn’t want to be accused of meddling into something they weren’t qualified to handle.

Previously dealings with my drunken father had been an arduous task as it was. The few phone calls to the police over the uprooted bushes and smashed Volvo was as much as they were willing to do to intervene. Every neighbor feared dad’s temper for interfering and they expected reprisals. The anonymous calls to the police led to the county’s inquiry into my welfare. The neighbors were convinced I’d be better off living in a foster home than with a drunken lout.

When Miss Morgan tried coming to dad’s defense, indicating his addition wasn’t voluntary, they agreed, and felt sorry for dad, but those circumstances didn’t change how his behavior was affecting the wholesome atmosphere of a nice neighborhood. The safety of the children was more important, mine included.

"Miss Morgan, I feel as you do. He was a good neighbor until Susan passed on. We all like him, and we’re sorry he’s taking it so bad, but we can’t ignore what a man like that can do when he’s out of control. Some folks on our block still have youngsters to think about. Think about how it looks to them, with him asleep on the front porch, or the noise coming out of the house at all hours of the night."

The second voice chimed in. "Yes, we’re as liberal as we can be, knowing he is tormented by his loss, but we must do what we feel is right. Donny must have a proper adult influence, or he’ll become just like his dad. He still needs guidance even if he is mature for his age. Are you willing to continue indefinitely? We see and understand the bank’s equity position, and why they want you to protect their investment, but how do you feel about Donny, personally? He needs more than a appointed ‘watchdog’ looking after the property."

"I understand how you feel, Rose. We’ve known each other for a few years, do I seem like I’m preoccupied with the bank’s concern alone? I’m sorry you feel that way, because I would have preferred to see one of his neighbors step forward to volunteer to look after him until his dad recovers. None of you did, and I have my own reasons, besides the bank’s protection for helping Donny. I was orphaned by alcohol at the same age that Donny lost his mom. If his dad didn’t enter the recovery program when he did, it would only be a matter of time before alcohol takes him away from Donny, too.

Think back, of your own, grown up children. How would you feel if none of your good neighbors was willing to help your spouses if something had happened to you? How does Susan feel if she’s looking down upon us right now? Am I doing the right thing for Donny? I don’t know. I haven’t the vast experience with children that you have. Either of you are better equipped to deal with Donny’s needs."

I cringed, staying on the sofa chair, feigning sleep.

The first voice retorted. "Well, of course we do have that in our favor, but we’re much too---advanced--- to keep up with the boy. We can’t be hasty to volunteer to raise another’s teenager. He’d be better off with someone younger, such as you. Times have changed. The world moves too quickly for us now. We’d botch it, Miss Morgan. We have our own families to tend to. My youngest daughter----"

"I understand. All I ask is for you to keep a close watch over the house for a time.

Donny will stay with me at my place at night, but he needs the careful support of his ‘best’ neighbors while I’m at work. You both are at home during the day. Your husbands, between the two of them, surely easily can spare a few moments of each evening to look over things, to see that vandals don’t destroy the property when no one is present, if you ‘girls’ carefully explain to them how important their interest is at this critical time. Think of how a vandalized house will look. Think of your property’s value if you live next to a run-down home. That’s all I ask. You don’t even have to tell anyone that you’re being good neighbors for Donny’s sake. I’ll leave you both a list of my phone numbers. All you need do is call me."

There was a long moment of silence. She laid it on thick.

"Well, certainly we have Donny’s best interest at heart. We are good neighbors, Miss Morgan. We have property of our own to protect. It must be hard on the lad with his father in the hospital. We can look after things." Said Rose Sullivan.

"Yes, you leave it to us. We’ll keep vigil and alert you or the police at the slightest sign of a problem. I heard a commotion out in the yard on Saturday, but you two were inside, so we didn’t interfere. I called Rose. She confirmed it. That man was hiding in the yard. If you hadn’t been there, there’s no telling what he would have done to Donny. We don’t hate the man, mind you, but his shenanigans have to end. It upsets an otherwise wonderful neighborhood.

"Oh, I agree Molly." Miss Morgan clinched their cooperation. "The man is ill and not in control. I need your help, both of you."

Rose spoke, the woman whose bushes dad destroyed. "Mind, you I don’t want to be held responsible. I have problems of my own to attend to. My George is using Donny’s dad as an excuse to be lazy. Points to this house and claims that he’s a living saint by comparison. It’s hard to keep a good man from becoming a lazy bum with a worthless neighbor around. If you promise to keep that drunken man away, we’ll all help to you keep an eye on Donny.

"Just last week George tried to say his bad back was bothering him to get out of his share of chores. All he had to do was wash a few windows from the outside. I did the insides. He should do his share. No, wanted me to hire someone. He---"

Miss Morgan interrupted her again. "Perhaps he wasn’t lazy and was telling the truth. How old is your George? Say, Donny isn’t working. If you need someone to handle tough chores, someone energetic, he might be the perfect solution. Hire him to wash windows for you. He is a good lad, but without a steady workload to occupy him, he might get into mischief.

"That boy? Energetic? Do you realize Miss Morgan; I’ve known Donny since the day he was born. That boy is not energetic. Takes after his mother, that boy. "

"Please, Mrs. Sullivan, keep your voice down. He’s asleep in the next room."

"That’s precisely what I mean. Why is that boy sleeping in broad daylight? He ought to be kept busy. It isn’t right for a teenager to lay around all day."

Miss Morgan whispered. It was hard for me to make out what she said, but I got some parts of it. "I’m afraid I’m to blame. He was up half the night. He’s frightfully depressed. He feels that he’s partially to blame for his dad’s loss of his good sales job in order to keep track of Donny. That’s what led to his heavy drinking. Donny confided in me about the block party he went to a while back. He is not happy with the way he was treated by some neighbors.

He doesn’t understand how some wonderful neighbors turned their backs to him. He’s innocent. He didn’t deserve the way some of your friends behaved that day. Of course, I know that doesn’t include you two. That’s why I called and asked the two of you to come over to chat, in the bank’s interest of preserving the value of the town’s real estate and honor the good relationship you two had with Donny’s late mother. The woman did her best, heaven only knows. Not every woman is blessed with good moral fiber and a strong constitution."

"Yes, she was a good, warm-heated woman. Bless her soul. Don’t you agree, Molly? It’s a shame she departed so young."

The other woman didn’t say anything in reply. I wasn’t able to look to see how she responded. She didn’t always get along with my mom.

"You two girls simply must talk to all your neighbors and convince them to help out in this time of need. Nothing drastic, mind you, just some latitude to let Donny know you don’t think he’s a bad boy at heart. No one has anything to gain if he becomes a ruffian because he was wrongfully judged. After all, he’s tackled the job of keeping the house and home together of over a year on his own, without being asked or told. It must have been hard on the buy to be thrust into taking care of a man who can’t control his drinking. It’s a shame."

"I can spare a few dollars a week for him to help out with chores. I’m sure others can, too. I tried to help out before, but he felt as if I was offering charity when I offered him some of my children’s perfectly serviceable clothes they left behind. His are shabby and too small on him. I doubt if he’s gotten anything new since his dear mom passed on. We’ll get together with the others and see what we can put together to update his wardrobe."

"That won’t be necessary. Donny deserves to be treated to new things. I can get the bank to advance funds for personal things that he needs. I have to enable him to accept getting new clothes with retaining his dignity. I’ll attend to his new clothes by insisting on providing him with new styles to dress better on my behalf. Besides, I want to guide him, myself, for my own sake. He’s like a kid brother to me. I’ll enjoy it as much as he will.

Donny needs to be kept busy in the daytime while I work, to take his mind off of his father’s health. A few dollars a week each neighbor can spare in exchange for his doing some chores, will provide him with his own spending money he earns on his own. His working for it will be fodder for his self-reliance and foster better relations with all of you. He can still concentrate on going to school, maintaining the house and seeing to his dad.

It isn’t the money, but his need to feel that he is a part of the neighborhood, being surrounded by caring friends. I trust you girls know how important it is for a young man to feel he is worth being cared about. It’ll do us all some good. George won’t be as crabby if you have Donny wash those windows, Rose. Have George ask Donny to do it. That way, he’ll appreciate the boy being around, too.

They agreed.

"Oh, my goodness. Look at the time. I’m running late and have to get back to the bank, and I still have one more errand to run with Donny. I knew I could depend on you two. You certainly warrant Donny’s compliments. He thinks the world of you two." Boy could she lay it on thick. I expected them to come into the living room and kiss me for being ‘such a good boy’.

After a quick salad for lunch, I told Miss Morgan I heard her conversation with the neighbors on our way to the community center in her car. She signed me up for a class in aerobics at the health club. She asked the instructor to set up a program for me, as I was a neophyte. I needed a comprehensive regimen, including a diet for rapid weight control, self-defense, and swimming. The only part that sounded appealing was swimming. My body folds would be less visible under water.

The rigid regimen meant I’d be kept busy all afternoon on alternate days while she was at work. I didn’t want to balk at her authority, so I didn’t say a word until we got back into the car. I hated to exercise.

"I think I’m going to hate coming here, Miss Morgan."

"You might. Then again, you won’t be able to spend your evenings with me while I exercise to keep fit. You won’t be able to keep up with me in the fall unless you get started and whip yourself into shape now, Donny.

By this fall, the kids your age will see you in a different light. You seem to like the way I look. Your body will need the training mine has had to look good enough to turn their heads. It requires minimal effort, once you get into shape. Think of it. It’ll be worth all the effort, once you make a commitment to acquire a nice body like mine and go for it! Then the fun begins!"

I wasn’t so sure.

 

To be continued?

 

 

If I get the wonderful encouragement I got from part one, there’ll be a part three.

Thanks to all of you who took the time to let me know you liked it.

Thanks to Crystal for providing a great place to post these elements.

Virginia Kane

 

 

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