Chances Are Omnibus (Gender Swap Fiction) Read online

  I show her over to the racks of dresses, where I got my church dress from. I’m not sure if Grace has any plus size dresses. She’s taken cover by the register, where she hides behind her psych textbook. The old sink or swim technique.

  I give the fat woman a couple of minutes to go through our offerings. “Anything you like?”

  “I said hot. These all look like dresses my grandma would wear.”

  “I can check in the back—”

  “Yeah, you do that.”

  The back room is where Grace leaves all the stuff she hasn’t sorted through yet. That will probably be one of my new duties. I get a head start by sticking both hands into a cardboard box nearly as tall as I am. I pull out handfuls of clothes, to look for something that might make the fat woman happy. I can’t imagine Grace will fire me if I don’t close this first deal, but she probably won’t be impressed either.

  I manage to find a few things that might fit. When I get back, the fat woman is browsing the undergarments. This unfortunately makes me think of her naked. As unhappy as I am about what FY-1978 did to me, at least it didn’t make me look like that.

  “This is all I could find,” I say.

  She snatches the dresses away from me. She tosses the first two to the floor without a word. The third one she holds up to her body. It’s a short, strapless number that’s bright red, guaranteed to draw far too much attention to her. “This might do,” she says.

  “You’re welcome to try it on in the changing room.”

  I’m not sure if the changing room will be big enough, but I’m pleasantly surprised when she doesn’t get stuck in the doorway. I stand back; I hear her grunt and pant a lot. I hope she’s just trying on the dress.

  It looks as bad on her as I imagined; it exposes more of her than the tank top and shorts. “What do you think?” she asks.

  I got plenty of experience in lying to a fat woman from when Debbie was pregnant with Maddy. I try not to let my smile waver as I say, “That certainly looks hot.”

  “Yeah, I think I’ll wear it out of here. You mind?”

  “No, that’s fine. I just need to find out the price.” I shuffle over to the cash register. The fat woman follows me, which makes it easier to tell Grace which dress the fat woman wants.

  “How much you want?” the fat woman asks.

  Grace puts down her book to study the dress. “Let’s say fifty bucks.”

  “Fine.” The fat woman reaches into her purse for the money.

  “Is that all I can get for you today?” I ask.

  “I think that’ll do it,” she says. Grace stands aside so I can ring it up. The woman pays with cash, a crisp hundred-dollar bill. I count back the change while Grace puts the fat woman’s tank top and shorts into a bag.

  “There you go. Have a nice day,” I say.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  I wait until the woman waddles out the front door to sigh. Grace claps me on the shoulder. “You’re a natural, kid.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’m not sure I could have handled it so well. I mean, did you see her arms? They looked like two uncooked loaves of bread.”

  “It was pretty gross.” Something about the encounter bothers me. It takes me a moment before I figure it out. “When I came in yesterday, did you just tell me what I wanted to hear? Does this look bad on me?”

  “I could answer that, but how do you know I won’t be lying?”

  “That sounds like a dodge.”

  “Some people you have to lie to. Some can handle the truth. Now if I’d tried to sell you a dress like that, then I’d have to lie.”

  “You don’t think I’d look hot in a dress like that?”

  She puts a hand on my shoulder. “Of course you would. But would you really want to wear something like that?”

  I think for a moment and then shake my head. “No, I guess not.”

  “Then stop complaining, would you? You did fine. Better than fine. You were great. Now, why don’t you take a break? Go fetch us a couple of cappuccinos.”

  “Sure,” I say, grateful to get away. As I reach the door, it occurs to me I’m just as insecure as the fat woman or Debbie when she was pregnant. Women.

  ***

  The Kozee Koffee is empty when I get there. I’m about to call out when I hear the toilet flush in the ladies room. Maddy appears a minute later; she wipes her hands on her apron. “I was wondering when you’d show up,” she says with a smile.

  “Grace wants a cappuccino.”

  “Yeah? What about you?”

  “I’ll have one too.”

  I reach into my pocket, but Maddy waves at me. “Don’t bother with that. It’s on the house.” While she starts on Grace’s cappuccino, she asks, “How’s the first day going?”

  “I made my first sale.”

  “That fat girl in the red dress, right?”

  “How’d you know?”

  “I figured from the way she was strutting around. Some people are so delusional.” Maddy passes a cappuccino across the counter. “So now you’re not a sales virgin, eh?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “You don’t seem too happy about it.”

  “It’s great. Really.” I force myself to smile while inside I kick myself. This isn’t how I wanted things to go. I want us to hit it off, to become best friends. The only problem is I don’t know how to be friends with Maddy. I don’t know her at all. What I do know came from Grace—my daughter’s lover.

  Maddy picks up the second cappuccino, the one earmarked for Grace, and takes a sip of it. “That’s good shit, don’t you think?”

  “It is pretty good.”

  “Come on, let’s have a seat.”

  We don’t sit inside. Instead we go outside, to one of the tables by the sidewalk. There’s not much foot traffic right now. Maddy takes another sip of Grace’s cappuccino. “How long ago did you run away?” she asks and I nearly spit out my coffee.

  “How did you know?”

  “You got the look. It’s like one of those wild tigers at the zoo.”

  “I’m not going to hurt anyone.”

  “I don’t mean that. I mean you keep looking around, like you’re waiting for someone to throw a net on you again.”

  “I am?” I’m not aware I look like that, but then I’ve always had to keep on my toes to stay alive. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I’ve seen a lot of girls like you around here. So what happened? You get tired of the suburbs? Or were your parents just shitheads?”

  “Shitheads,” I say. “They didn’t treat me very well, so I thought I’d go out on my own.”

  “And now here you are.”

  “Here I am.” I’m quick to add, “I’m staying with my aunt. She’s really nice.”

  “She’s not really your aunt, is she?”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Deductive reasoning.”

  “What are you, Sherlock Holmes or something?”

  “No. My dad’s a cop.”

  “He is?”

  “Yeah, or he was. He might be retired by now.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “I haven’t seen him in years. My mom got full custody in the divorce.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  When Maddy shrugs I almost start to cry again. “He wasn’t around much before they got divorced. He was married to his job.”

  “But I’m sure he cares about you.”

  “He never even sent a birthday card.”

  That’s true. I never sent her a card. I figured Debbie would just throw them away. Still, I should have at least tried. She is my daughter. “That’s pretty bad,” I say. “But at least he didn’t punch you in the face for your birthday.”

  “Your father did that?”

  “On my sixteenth birthday. I had a black eye for a week.”

  “No wonder you ran away.” Maddy reaches across the table to take my hand. “You don’t have to worry about that anymore. You’re free now. Grace
and I will help you get on your feet. How about you have dinner with us tonight? I’m not much of a cook, but Grace is like fucking Rachel Ray.”

  “I’d love to. I’ll have to call my aunt. She worries about me.”

  “I can see why.”

  Someone walks into the coffeehouse. Maddy stands up from the table. She passes the cappuccino to me. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  “Sure.” I let out a sigh and smile. Things didn’t go quite as I hoped, but we made some progress. It’s a start.

  Chapter 25

  I make two more sales that day. A couple of hipsters who want something to wear ironically. Each sale gets easier as I grow more comfortable lying to them. I remind myself a lot of police work involves deception; you have to make a criminal think you know more than you do so he’ll confess. By comparison it’s much easier to tell a girl she looks good in a T-shirt two sizes too small.

  Grace doesn’t have any problem with Maddy’s invitation for dinner. “Sounds like a good idea. Can’t promise you anything too fancy, though.”

  “Maddy said you’re like Rachel Ray.”

  “Only in that I can make something edible in thirty minutes or less.”

  “I’m sure she didn’t mean to put you on the spot.”

  “It’ll be fine.” Grace sighs. “Sometimes Maddy doesn’t think things through.”

  “That’s not always a bad thing.”

  “No, most of the time it’s great. Other times it gets annoying.”

  “This is one of the annoying times.”

  “A little, yeah. Less so if you can handle things for an hour while I hit the grocery store.”

  “No problem.”

  While I’m alone I use the phone to call Tess. “My boss invited me for dinner,” I say.

  “Dinner? That seems a little forward.”

  “She’s nice.” I don’t mention anything about Maddy; I know Tess would not be happy about me having dinner with a couple of lesbians. She’s not the most open-minded on that subject. Not that I’m all that open to it, but if that’s what Maddy wants to be then I’ll support it. “It shouldn’t be too long.”

  There’s silence on the phone for a moment. Then Tess says, “I’ll send Jacob to pick you up at nine o’clock. I don’t want you riding the train alone at night.”

  I want to protest I can take care of myself, but I know it won’t do any good with Tess. She’s taken me in as her surrogate daughter and she’s going to make sure nothing happens to me. “All right. I’ll be ready.”

  “Good. So how are things going there?”

  “Great. I made three sales already. Grace says I’m a natural.”

  “That’s very good to hear,” Tess says, though she doesn’t sound too enthused about it. A few hours haven’t improved her view of my new job yet. “I suppose I should let you get back to it. Goodbye, sweetheart.”

  “Goodbye—Aunt Tess.” I can almost hear her smile before I hang up. She’d probably rather I called her Mom, but this is the next best thing. I lean back against the wall and sigh. Things have become too complicated.

  ***

  Grace closes up at seven o’clock. She’s already been upstairs for an hour to get dinner ready while I mind the store. She shows me how to lock the register and then bring down the metal shutters over the windows and doors. “How is Maddy going to get in?” I ask.

  “She uses the fire escape.”

  “Is that safe?”

  “Sure, she does it all the time.”

  I’d like to go out and check the fire escape myself, but that would look too paranoid. Instead I follow Grace upstairs. She’s got two big pots on the stove, one filled with pasta and another with tomato sauce. “You like spaghetti?” she asks.

  “I love spaghetti.”

  “Good. This is all organic stuff. Real organic, not the shit they sell at the A&P or Wal-Mart. We’re vegetarians, in case you’re wondering.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “But you’re a meat-and-potatoes kind of girl, right?”

  “I haven’t been able to be picky lately.”

  Grace stirs the sauce while she asks me seemingly off-hand, “You been having to eat out of dumpsters?”

  “A few. Is it really that obvious?”

  “I talked to Maddy after I got the stuff. She’s going to pick up a bottle of wine.”

  “I’m not old enough to drink.”

  “We won’t tell—”

  “My uncle is picking me up at nine. He’ll smell it on my breath.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got a pretty strict aunt and uncle.”

  “They’re just old-fashioned.”

  While Grace tends to the pasta, I walk around the rest of the apartment. It’s not much bigger than mine was. There are two bedrooms, but I notice the smaller one has a lot of dust in it. No surprise that Maddy and Grace are sharing a bed.

  In lieu of a coffee table or end tables in the living room, someone—I assume it’s Grace—has stacked up old books. A few deal with psychology, but others are dictionaries, encyclopedias, and even old phone books. The posters on the walls are for movies in the last decade, probably ones the theater threw away. In all it looks like the kind of place for a couple of modern young women in the city.

  I make myself at home on a saggy gray couch that for some reason smells like Thai food. There’s no wall between the living room and kitchen, so I can still watch Grace as she works. She picks up a bottle of some kind of spice to shake a little in. Maddy shows up a few minutes later. “Like the couch? We found it on the corner last week. It was a pain in the ass to carry it up.”

  “It’s nice,” I say. I hope she can’t tell I’m lying. While I know there’s nothing wrong with Maddy and Grace’s apartment, the father in me wants my daughter to live somewhere nicer, like a palace. She deserves better than a couch fished out of the trash.

  “I’m going to take a quick shower and change,” Maddy says.

  “Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes,” Grace says.

  “A real quick shower then.”

  “Every day she does that,” Grace says after Maddy’s turned on the water in the shower. “I think she hates the smell of coffee.”

  “Maybe,” I say. Or maybe there was something else she hated about the smell of the coffeehouse that bothered her. As confident and happy as she seemed, maybe she wanted more than to be a barista. I wish I could talk to her about that, but I’m still a relative stranger.

  Grace has dinner on the table when Maddy steps out of the bedroom. Her hair is still damp, but it seems a little less pink than before. She’s changed into an oversized light blue shirt and a pair of dark blue shorts, only the hem visible. I can’t help but notice Maddy has very nice legs, long and toned, like her mother’s.

  “Glad you could join us,” Grace teases. At least I hope she’s teasing and this isn’t a resumption of their earlier hostilities.

  “I wouldn’t want to miss this,” Maddy says. She gives Grace a chaste kiss. Then she turns to me. “Grace’s spaghetti is the best. Not like that canned shit my mom makes.”

  Debbie never was much of a cook. She was the kind of person who could have burned water. Not that I’m any better. That’s why I spent most of my dinners at bars or Rosie’s or with Jake and Tess.

  I dig my fork into the noodles and sauce. I feel them watch me as I taste it. It is a hell of a lot better than any spaghetti I’ve had before. “This is great. A lot better than the dumpster.”

  It takes them both a minute to realize I’ve made a joke. Then they laugh a lot harder than they need to. Grace pats me on the shoulder. “She’s starting to come around. We’ll have that shell broken in no time.”

  Maddy sits down next to me. Now that she’s showered, she smells like something floral—violets? Did she put perfume on to impress Grace or me? Maybe both of us. She wraps a hearty ball of pasta around her fork in true Italian fashion. I wonder where she learned that from; it certainly wasn’t from me.

  “So how was your first
day?” Maddy asks.

  “It was great. A lot of fun.”

  “You’re just saying that because I’m sitting here, aren’t you?” Grace asks.

  “No, I really enjoyed it.” I’m not lying when I say this. When Dr. Palmer suggested I find another line of work, being a cop seemed like the only thing I could do. But there was something nice about Grace’s shop. Maybe it was that I didn’t have to worry much some punk would put a bullet in me. Or maybe that I didn’t have to stare at the underbelly of society. For one day I could pretend everything was good and everyone was happy. “I can come back tomorrow, right?”

  “After that first sale I’m ready to hand over the keys to you.” Grace turns to Maddy. “You should have seen the hippo who waddled in there.”

  “I did see her. I can’t believe sweet little Stace here talked her into that.” When Maddy pats my shoulder I can’t help but grin from ear to ear. “You should be selling used cars.”

  “I’m not that good.”

  “Don’t be so modest,” Grace says. “You did a hell of a job. A lot better than my first day. My first customer tried to shiv me with a hanger.”

  “I said I was sorry,” Maddy says and the three of us laugh.

  I let them carry most of the conversation through dinner. Like most married couples they talk about their neighbors and small domestic matters like whether they should call someone to look at the leaky sink. There’s a lot I’d still like to ask Maddy, but from the sound of it, she’s contented enough. She and Grace seem happy together. And she did it without any help from me.

  The subject eventually turns back to me. “You should come out with us this weekend,” Maddy says. While Grace smiles, I see her mouth twitch for a moment. This is another of those moments where Maddy speaks before she thinks.

  “I’m not sure I can,” I say. “My aunt doesn’t like me being out after dark.”

  “She’s not even really your aunt, so fuck her.”

  “Maddy—”

  “Sorry. I’m sure she’s a nice woman. Doesn’t mean you have to let her keep such a tight leash on you.”