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.

This fifth part of a continuing story is about a teenager with an alcoholic father. It may be read separately, but the context is enhanced if you read the prior four segments: ‘Changes, ’ ‘More Changes’ ‘Some More Changes’ and "Still More Changes for the Better’.

 

Unexpected Changes for the Better              by: Virginia Kane

 

Part five

Chapter One.

Wednesday. Had to get out of bed very early, in a hurry, to use the john again. Food wasn’t staying in me long due to the changes in my diet that Miss Morgan was imposing on me. I didn’t mind the food. The variety was enjoyable and the food tasted much better than the prepared canned food I was used to eating. My antsy stomach didn’t agree with my taste buds. It was rejecting the changed diet.

As long as I was up, I put on a fresh pot of coffee: the only morning beverage that Miss Morgan and I agreed on without question. She also drank a large glass of citrus juice, usually grapefruit, which I gagged on. I showered, shampooed and conditioned my long hair while the coffee brewed. After a quick cup of coffee, I brushed my teeth, went back to bed and lay down, but was unable to fall asleep.

It wasn’t very long before I heard Miss Morgan rummaging around and go into the bathroom. In my reverie, I conjured up how she looked like while standing in the shower, with the steamy water cascading over her soft, creamy skin. Guiltily, I got out of bed and started dressing to distract myself from the vision in my head of her naked body that refused to go away.

I sure didn’t want her to see the effect her loveliness had on me. I put a thick new sweat suit on to hide my rampant erection and checked myself in the mirror. The outfit almost camouflaged it completely; almost as good as it hid the fat rolls that hung over at my sides. No way to resolve how I felt, with her using the john. She came out wearing exercise sweats, similar to mine.

"Want to join me for a quick jog, Donny? I usually do a fast mile in the morning to kick up my metabolic rate. You don’t have to jog, just walk along with me. I’ll go slowly if you join me, just to keep me company. I’ll use high leg lifts to maintain my normal exertion rate rather than covering the distance with longer strides. Interested? We can talk and save some time discussing your plans for today."

"The only plan I have for today is to get back to my house to check on things and read. Maybe I can raise a few bucks off of my neighbors. Oh, I’d like to see if I might visit with my dad, yet, if it’s possible."

"Still won’t go to the community center for the aerobics class, huh?"

"No, thank you. Not to be made fun of. Being the laughing stock for a bunch of your friendly health nuts won’t exactly make my day. I’ll wait until all the healthy foods you got me on melts some of my fat away like butter the way you seem to think it will. That shouldn’t take long, if I don’t starve first."

"Starving yourself to lose weight will only take longer and backfire, Donny. If you continue eating the healthier foods I suggest, which I doubt, you will think I won’t notice if you sneak in a snack or two and you’ll be right. I probably won’t notice. Then you’ll crave some of your old favorites, and cheat more frequently. Soon, you’ll gain back the weight you lost. If your neighbors ask you do some chores, you’ll think you might burn off enough fat. You’ll get into the habit of going to the store and spend the money they give you on junk food that will stick like glue.

No, without regular exercize, you’ll only go back to the endless cycle of losing a few pounds and gaining them back. Is that what you want to do?"

"What other choice is there, besides exercize? I won’t go to be humiliated by a bunch of clods that think they’re superior, just because they don’t share my urges to overeat. I don’t cherish putting myself into a situation that will lead to that kind of abuse. Once the kids from school find out I’m attending exercize classes for fat people, the word will get around, and the taunts will start all over again."

"Hmm. The kids at school treat you pretty bad, huh?"

"Yeah, most of them did. It won’t be long before school starts."

"Eventually, you’ll have to incorporate exercize into your life, Donny, or it won’t be any easier to get slim and fit in with your peers. It’ will only get more and more difficult as you get older for you to shed the fat and begin to look half-way normal. If you start weight control now, to look normal, fewer kids will be willing to taunt you. They might accept you. They won’t be bent on making such fun of you.

What if we concentrate on getting your excess bulk down somewhat first? Would you be willing to try some mild exercize, then? Would you consider giving your solemn promise to attend the aerobics classes, if I relent and allow you use other means to first knock say four inches off of your waistline? Would that be enough leeway, or would you want to wait until you drop say, six inches?"

"Six inches? I haven’t worn a size 38 pair of pants in ages. I’d be willing to do just about anything for that, even promise to exercise. Please don’t kid around, Mi—ma’am. You’re tempting me with some phony trick. If you can somehow make me look thinner I promise, but it would take a miracle to---"

"No it wouldn’t. I know of a way. It’s merely cosmetic, but may be the answer."

"Cosmetics? No way! Forget it! I’m not going to use any makeup! Besides, I don’t believe there’s any makeup in the world that would hide six inches of the ugly fat I have hanging around my waist. This is a joke or a riddle to trick me, isn’t it?"

"If it’s joke, it isn’t funny, Donny, and it’s not a riddle. People have used orthodics to mask their obesity for ages. I’m talking about wearing a truss to change your proportions to appear, well, more normal, that’s all. Six inches is a tall order, but four inches is likely to be attainable. Do I have your attention, yet?"

"You do, but I don’t see how---?"

"First, I’ll have to take you to an orthodics expert for a fitting, to make sure. Hmm. Maybe there’s one at the hospital. You want me to find out, while I call to check if we can get in to see your dad today? Perhaps we can kill two birds with one trip. You can get an initial appointment to be fitted for a proper truss and visit with your dad in the same trip."

 

Chapter Two.

I got to see my dad. I wish I hadn’t. We couldn’t talk. He was still in detox. Under the doctors’ care, he was on medication, and asleep the whole time I was there. His liver damage was extensive, and his skin looked dark yellow, like it had been painted with iodine or something. Dad’s complexion was always ruddy because he spent years outdoors, going from customer to customer, selling. Even while he was working in the shipping dept., I hadn’t noticed the change.

The doctor that accompanied Miss Morgan and me called it jaundice. He talked with us for some time, after I visited with my dad in private, and said a prayer for him. The man was patient and kind, I got the feeling he held back things about my dad’s prognosis. He only repeated that dad’s recovery was to be prolonged.

The news was glum. Apparently, dad’s former employer knew his condition was severe at the time they let him go. The hospital had records from the company’s assigned doctor that dad was already seeing while he was still working. This new doctor said he had trouble securing the previous doctors’ files. A court order from the attorney dad hired through Miss Morgan had to secure a court in order to get any information. They claimed "privacy" due to the litigation the attorney initiated.

I didn’t understand any of that. How could they hide the file because of a lawsuit?

"Sorry I’m making you late for work again, Miss Morgan. I only expected you to drop me off to visit dad on your way in to work." She was dressed for work.

"I don’t work on Wednesdays unless I’m backed up or have appointments that can’t be scheduled otherwise. The bank is closed on Wednesdays, Donny. I work on Saturday mornings, usually. Last week was slow, so I took the day off. I can spend the whole day with you today, if you’d like. Let’s go to the orthodist for that fitting appointment; then head over to your place. I’d like to put in a call to your lawyer when we get there to see what progress he’s made."

The orthodic fitting took all of ten minutes for measurements, and all we got was a prescription and the locations of the shops that made the trusses. The hospital orthodic department didn’t actually make ‘braces’; they only prescribed what was needed, so another stop was added to our trip to my house. That didn’t take long either. The brace was in stock and didn’t have to be custom made. The guy at the shop checked the prescription, retook some measurements and pulled a box off the shelf and showed me the brace. It was a very plain, flesh-toned, foot-wide plus elastic band with laces in the back. I backed away from him, in shock.

GULP! "I can’t wear that thing! It looks like something women wear!"

The man smiled. "Oh, really! I need mine for back support. You’re lucky, puppy! This one will be comfortable and easy to get used to. Mine has stiff metal stays to correct my posture, kid. Don’t worry. This isn’t about vanity. You can’t go moving all that fat around day in, day out, without something giving way. As heavy as you are, you don’t appear to have the muscle tone necessary to keep from rupturing something. Want to have to wear stays for the rest of your life?"

I pointed at Miss Morgan. "The idea of getting a brace was only to cut my waist size down. She said it was only cosmetic. I don’t need that--that thing"

"Doesn’t matter. Without wearing a brace, you’ll eventually get back trouble from carrying that much blubber around. The licensed orthodist prescribed this ‘thing’ to prevent you from tearing up something inside, kid. Better get wise and use it before you suffer any severe pain. Then, you may not be able to walk around without a rigid one like mine. If you should get hit hard from the rear in an auto automobile accident, you’ll learn. Many people ignore the signs until it’s too late.

I got into this business after I unfortunately found out the hard way what custom back braces cost. Now, I do well selling and fitting them. I was a tailor. All that bending to measure men for business suits wrecked my overloaded spine. This brace the doctor prescribed for you is dirt-cheap by comparison. Take a word of advise from a sore old man who used to be fat. Take the brace and use it until you slim down, before you find out you should have, the hard way, like I did."

We left the store with three of the blasted ‘things’. I secretly wished they weren’t so plain. As soon as we got to my house, she had me change clothes and she offered to lace me into one. First she took a Polaroid picture of me and marked my waist measurement across the back: 441/2 inches, with me in a tee shirt and bathing trunks, without the brace. Then, she took another after putting on the brace and measured my waist. Sure enough, 40 inches, and she really didn’t pull the laces tight. She wanted to know if she should draw the laces in as tight as she could. I declined, knowing she crush me in order to get those last two inches.

Crafty woman. She tricked me into promising to go to the aerobics class. All she had to do was get me to the hospital’s orthodist. After that, I really didn’t have a choice. The guy in the shop didn’t need to tell me twice. My lower back told me often enough. He knew what he was talking about, I just didn’t know better, and didn’t have the means, nor the exposure to know being very overweight could be the cause of my backaches. I thought the back pain was normal. Mom had it too.

Thinking back, I remembered that mom had trouble getting around, and always was complaining about her aching back. She wore girdles all the time. Now, I had to prepare myself for the kidding I’d get for needing a girdle. Maybe being fat isn’t worth the trouble it causes. Plus, I was duped into those dumb aerobic classes.

"No one makes fun of someone in pain, Donny. If you’re asked, simply say that the brace is due to a back injury. I don’t think a soul at the club will give you any trouble about it. I’ll tell the coach that it’s prescribed. After all, it was. We could show him the prescription too, if you’d like." I obviously wasn’t worming my way out of going. She had an answer to every objection.

I nodded, staring at the difference in the two pictures, tempted to ask her to take

In the laces some more, just temporarily to see if she could. I wouldn’t want to walk around with it that tight, but was still curious. I tucked the tail of the tee shirt into my bathing suit and checked the full-length on the bathroom door. Wow, that did the trick. I looked like a power lifter, even though it was fat instead of muscle. I didn’t look half-bad.

"In a few months, you can look like that without the brace, Donny."

"How?"

"Doing about fifty sit-ups every morning with your knees up half-way, before you get out of bed, and another fifty at night before you go to sleep. Your lats will get stronger, and spare tire will vanish, so you probably won’t need the brace."

Wow, that would be too cool! How many?"

"Fifty in the morning and fifty more at night. That’s in addition to the exercise you get in the classes you will start in about an hour.

"Oh yeah. Those. You sure no one’s going to poke fun at me?"

"No, I don’t. I can’t hand you an ironclad guarantee no idiots will be around, but I think there’s a better chance if you wear the brace. Don’t you? Don’t overdo the exercises for a few days. Just play it cool, get used to wearing it and learn at your own pace. Speed and agility will come with time, if you apply yourself."

 

Chapter Three.

I wanted to lick my plate that night. I would have too, if it weren’t all green leafy food. I inhaled the small can of tuna in the middle of the pile of vegetables, first. Good thing too, because besides the clear broth the waiter served, and gallons of unsweetened Iced tea I needed after the aerobics workout, the vegetables was all I was getting for dinner.

A grilled cheese or garbage burger from Al’s Diner would have been marvelous, instead of the healthy choice food in the restaurant Miss Morgan took me to right after we left the health club at the community center. Imagine! I had to change clothes four times in as many hours, and she made me take all the changes to the health club!

It was my own fault. I went through the entire aerobics class without a hitch, with Miss Morgan beside me the whole time. At least half-dozen guys hit on her at the club. She put them down, politely, saying she already had plans for every night for weeks in advance. Sensing her plans were to be with me, gave my ego a boost until I realized she’d be monitoring my every move.

We weighed in at the very beginning, with the coach marking a chart. She must have been giving him lessons on making lists for everything. Then he checked off each set of exercise during the warm-up, giving me special attention to explain why each group of muscles was prepared and in which order. I was confused at first, reluctant to get too enthused, until other class members fell in with the three of us and followed along with the warm-up routine, asking the coach questions.

Not one of them made fun of me. Some looked in good shape, too. I spotted kids from school in the gym, but they stayed away, and I ignored them. Then, we got to the aerobics class. Whew! Wee did two, fifteen minute, non-stop sessions to music, separated by a five-minute cool-down period. I didn’t do a fourth of all the exercises. No one did them all, except the coach; not even Miss Morgan. I was wiped out; exhausted.

Then we jogged in place for five minutes. In spite of how tight the brace was, I felt it slipping down my sweat-soaked body. I had to stop, and pull up on it. I saw two other guys do the same thing at some point during the jog! Getting laughed at didn’t seem likely after that.

Then, five minutes of cool-down preceded a final twenty-minute, non-stop, rapid-fire, quick-change routine. I collapsed right after the start and couldn’t keep up to save my soul. All I did was wave my arms and make foot motions to the beat of the music. I was bushed!

After a quick shower, and ten minutes of steam (Miss Morgan spent the time in the Woman’s Sauna). I rinsed off and joined Miss Morgan at the pool for a swim. Well, I went for a wade in the shallow water, too burned out to move. Swimming is one form of healthy activity that I don’t mind, because fat people are not at as much disadvantage in the water. Buoyancy! I should have known better than accept her challenge to swim the distance of the pool underwater. Winner picked out dinner. That’s why I was eating tuna and veggies.

I fell asleep in front of the boob tube during the first sit-com. Bushed!

During dinner, I conceded that I should wear a brace all the time, except at night. I could wear a lighter version if I wanted to, but that was up to me. I opted for the new pajamas without any brace and slept like the dead. Besides, I didn’t have any ‘lighter control’ version. I didn’t catch the drift of what she meant by lighter control until morning. That was what I was afraid of. She was suggesting I wear a fancy corset like she wore. Gulp!]

 

Chapter Four

We fell into a new routine and the remainder of summer slipped away. By the time school started, dad was recovering, I was down twenty pounds, the braces were too small, and I had to see the orthodist for a new prescription after dad and I spent an entire morning together. We talked about the progress of his lawsuit against his employer. Dad was sober, cognizant and jovial again, but he was thin as a rail and weaker than I’d ever seen him. His resistance was worn away.

"Good thing I stopped drinking when I did, kiddo, or at least was stopped. (He didn’t call me Donny!). If I kept it up, you’d have been talking over my grave by now. We owe that woman from the bank a lot, my life, for example."

When I asked dad when he thought he’d be able to come home, he changed the subject to the lawsuit. "That’s a good lawyer Mrs. Morgan set me up with. He’s got them running scared, but wants to hold off. They’re offering to settle, but he is threatening them with a class action suit. Wants to do an ‘inquiry’ or sumptin’. He says I ain’t the only one to get a raw deal. They’re in deep doo-doo. He has their officers cornered. They’ll be responsible, even if the company goes down over the case. Trouble is, he wants my doctors to confirm my disability is permanent."

"What does that mean, dad?"

"Got to stay cooped up in here until it’s all over."

"Until it’s over? You’re kidding! Even if there’s nothing wrong with you?"

"I may look okay, Don, but once I get out, there’s no telling how long before I go off the wagon, son. I still wake up with the shakes every day. What I wouldn’t do for a lousy drink! In here, there’s no chance of getting one, but outside, I know I can hold out for a while, but not forever. I’ll have a relapse, and be back here, anyway. If that happens it will hurt the lawsuit’s chances. The company’s lawyers are banking on it.

They’re trying to prove my addiction had nothing to do with the job, that it was all caused by our home life. You have to be careful and not give them any reason to prove their point, son. Keep your nose clean and do what Mrs. Morgan tells you.

Better yet, stay out of the house. Rent it out and go someplace else for a while. A few of the neighbors are itching to make a few bucks out of this, according to our lawyer. One of them got the county involved in the first place. Why do you think you need a guardian? Most of the neighbors don’t care one way or the other. The two who signed depositions claiming I was always a drunk and your mother was unfit, are the ones that can screw up the case in court."

"Mom? Unfit? That’s ridiculous! Who would say that?"

"I don’t know. Their lawyers told our lawyer. He was at the depositions but played down what they had to say. Didn’t want to make a big issue out of their stories. Thinks it won’t hold up in court. If our lawyer tries to point out that my drinking was caused because of my being out of town, on the road, selling, they are going to testify that your mother was entertaining numerous men at the house while I was away and that drove me to drink, not the wining and dining I did to close the sales deals with customers."

"It’s not true! Mom was an angel!"

"You and I know that, but they’re hoping they can dig up something on your dear mother that would make the depositions hold up, so be careful. Some people will do anything to make a buck; including defaming someone as innocent and pure as your poor mom, rest her soul."

"Who are they, dad. I got to warn the rest of the neighbors about them."

"Don’t bother. They both moved away already. That’s why they don’t care what happens, as long as they get paid off for their lies."

"Why don’t we settle, dad? Why not take their offer and get this over. If you have to stay here, and I have to go away, we can lose everything, anyway. We don’t need them. We’ll make it without their lousy money. Forget the lawsuit."

"I would, sport, but the lawyer thinks we can get the mortgage paid off, a college education for you, at a college of your choice, and enough for me to live on for the rest of my days, without working. I can’t get a job in my condition. My kidneys stopped working. I’m going to be on dialysis for the rest of my time. If they win, I won’t be able to afford it without public assistance. We’d lose the house and you won’t get a decent education. We have to listen to the pros, son. Otherwise, you will have a hard time. I made it rough enough on you as it is, with my drinking."

"The job caused you to drink, dad. You couldn’t help it. The court will know why. They have to. They won’t let the company get away with it, dad. They can’t."

"Unfortunately, juries don’t look to kindly on men that blame their drinking on their jobs, and leave a wife and kid to fend for themselves for weeks at a time, having a good time with customers. I don’t have a real easy case to win. You know how paranoid people get about drunken drivers. Well, the opposition is going to drag up my driving record to show what a louse I am.

People got hurt in the last accident I had. Lost my license, can’t get around, don’t have good medical insurance, need continued medical assistance and you won’t have a roof over your head if I have to go on public assistance for the dialysis. We’ll have to sell. They’re going to make Sullivan tell about the bushes I trashed and the other guy: what’s his name. His Volvo got sideswiped. What’s the use?

If we don’t win in court, we’re done for, broke. That’s why I want you to get away. Go with Mrs. Morgan. Live with her. Stay away from the house, just until this is over. If we lose in court, the lawyer will get a chunk of what’s my share of the house’s equity. With a little luck, the paid up life insurance on me will help you with college. Use your share of proceeds from the house’s sale to pay for your tuition. You won’t need a house if you go away to college. That’s all I ask."

Is usual cocky attitude was gone. He wouldn’t say it outright, but he was afraid the case was a lost cause. Leastwise, he’d never get to enjoy winning the battle, which was the way I knew my dad. Winning, that’s all that ever mattered to him.

I sat with him for quite a while without talking. His breathing was labored. He was tired. I was afraid of losing him. He was all the family I had. He looked so frail. "Got to go, dad. You need rest. I’ve pestered you long enough for one day. I’ll see you on Friday. Oh, by the way, it’s Miss, not Mrs. Morgan. She isn’t married."

He nodded, too tired to talk. I waited until he fell asleep, and silently left him. He knew he didn’t have a chance. He didn’t want to hold me back, be a burden on me, a kid that had nobody else in the world, besides a kind soul that was keeping watch over me. Dad hardly noticed the weight I lost.

 

To be continued.

 

 

 

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