Chances Are Omnibus (Gender Swap Fiction) Read online

  Something of the old Tess—the young Tess really—comes back to her as she describes the article she read. “This mother and daughter had been separated during a flood in Mississippi when the child was three years old. Fifty years later, she started working at a nursing home and there was her mother! It’s amazing how these things can happen. So much more than coincidence, don’t you think?”

  “I guess so,” I say. I had given up on religion after Debbie and I split up. Jake lost his passion for it after Jenny died. Tess still believes though. I suppose it’s because she wants to believe Jenny is up there in Heaven.

  “Of all the nursing homes in all the world and she walks into mine,” Jake says. “It’s unbelievable.”

  Jake and I could tell Tess an even more unbelievable story, but we don’t. We finish our meals in silence. I’ve polished off everything Tess gave me, plus seconds on all of it. If I continue to eat like that, I’ll lose my girlish figure in no time. That might not be such a bad thing.

  Jake stands up first. “Let’s let Tess take care of the dishes while we talk in the study.”

  “Sure. Where is the study?” I ask, to play to my cover.

  “I’ll show you.”

  He takes my arm and leads me to his study, where he locks the door so we can have some privacy. “I found Dr. Palmer,” he says.

  “Is she dead?”

  “Not so far. She’ll meet us tomorrow at her place.”

  “Great. What else?”

  “I leaned on the boys at the lab about those blood samples.” He pauses dramatically; I’d like to punch him in the arm for that. “They’re the same type.”

  “Now do you believe me?”

  “It’s not definite,” he says. “There are still more tests. But I’m closer to believing you.”

  “Thanks. You find out anything else?”

  “Sure did.” He opens up some files he took from the precinct and we get to work.

  Chapter 15

  I’m about to turn out the bedroom light when I hear a knock at the door. “Are you decent?” Tess asks through the door.

  I open the door for her. Right away she clucks her tongue and then shuffles past me, over to the dresser. I watch as she rifles through a drawer and finally takes out something pink. She shakes out a nightgown with a lacy collar, the kind of thing I wouldn’t wear if someone put a gun to my head.

  “Here you are, dear. This should fit you just fine.”

  “I’m OK like this,” I tell her. I still have on the pants of the tracksuit and the black T-shirt. That’s more than I usually wore in my apartment. As a man I would strip down to my boxers unless I was too tired or drunk, in which case I’d crash face-first onto the bed until I woke up in a puddle of drool the next morning.

  Tess clucks her tongue again. She seizes my hand, her grip even stronger than her husband’s. She drags me over to the vanity. “Sit,” she says as if I’m a dog. Like an obedient dog I sit on the stool and face the vanity.

  “What—?” I start to ask until she grabs a brush and starts to run it through my hair.

  “I know things have been very difficult for you,” she says as she works, “but it’s time you start to take care of yourself. You’re not a street urchin anymore.”

  It’s amazing the change she works on my hair with the brush. Where it had been snarled and dull before, now it’s smooth and shiny, like one of those models in shampoo ads on TV. I’m not sure how she did it; she must be a miracle worker. “Yes, ma’am,” I say.

  “I want you to change out of those clothes. I’ll put them in the wash for you to get out some of that smell.”

  “That’s kind of you, Mrs. Madigan—”

  “I don’t want to hear any arguing about it. If you ever want to make something of yourself, you have to stop looking and acting like a street person.” Tess brushes a tress of my hair forward to cover up part of my eye. “We’ll see what we can do about that. I think with a bit of makeup we can cover most of it up, let the world see just how pretty you really are.”

  “Thank you, Tess.”

  “You’re welcome, dear. Now go on and change. You can leave your old clothes outside.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  As Tess leaves the room, I stare at the mirror. I think of Jenny, who used to sit on this stool and brush her hair. Maybe that’s why Tess is so insistent I turn my life around, so I don’t end up in a hole in the ground like Jenny.

  It’s after I take off my clothes that I remember I don’t have any underpants. To wear a nightgown without something covering my privates seems grossly inappropriate. I take a deep breath and then look through the drawers to find a pair of panties. I can see my face turn red in the mirror; I feel like a pervert as I go through another girl’s underpants. I grab a pair of white cotton ones, the least racy of the bunch. It’s amazing how comfortable they feel.

  The nightgown is a bit too big for me, so that the hem covers up my feet to make me look like a cartoon ghost. Any bit of denial I might have clung to earlier falls away when I turn back to the vanity. There’s not a trace of manliness left to me, not in a pink nightgown with lace around the collar. I look like I should be at a slumber party giggling about cute boys. To think last night I had gotten drunk in a bar, interrogated the Worm, and then busted heads at Lennox Pharmaceuticals.

  I leave my thrift store clothes in the hallway for Tess to take. Then I turn off the light and slip into bed. I stare up at the ceiling, not really tired after my lengthy nap earlier. I think about what Tess said. If no one can find a way to change me back, then I’m going to have to start a new life. A new life as Stacey Chance, a twenty-one-year-old woman. What kind of job can I get? Where am I going to live? I can’t stay with Jake and Tess forever.

  More importantly, what about Maddy? I stayed away from her before because of Debbie’s lawyers, but there was always the chance I could see her again someday. Now even if I do see her, she won’t recognize me. I’ll never get a chance to talk to her again, to find a way to make up for the pain I had caused her.

  I fall asleep with tears in my eyes.

  ***

  In my dreams I’m back in the water. I’m still a woman at the bottom of the harbor. Again I watch myself from the outside. Even though it’s a dream, I hope it will work in reverse and when I wake I’ll be myself again.

  Something does happen, but not what I hope. A hole begins to open in my forehead, just like the bullet hole Lex left me with. I always thought they said you woke up before you die in dreams. Maybe that doesn’t count if you already died.

  A drop of blood emerges from the hole, followed by another. Soon the drops become a thin trickle. The trickle gains momentum, until it’s a river of blood that colors the water all around me red.

  Then my eyes flash open—

  I awaken with a scream. That’s followed by a sharp pain in my midsection. I look around frantically, but can’t see anything in the darkness. I can’t remember where I am or who I am. All I know is I’m not in the water.

  I grapple with the blankets for a few seconds before I free myself. Still in a panic, I roll right off the bed and land with a thud on the floor. I scramble to my feet and then flail around to find a light switch.

  The light flicks on to reveal Jenny’s old room in Jake’s house. I’m still clad in the pink nightgown Tess gave to me. I put a trembling hand to my forehead, but there’s no bullet hole, only sweat.

  I let out a sigh of relief. It was just a dream. I think that for about two more seconds. That’s when I see the drops of blood on the carpet. I follow the drops back to the bed, where there’s a vibrant red stain on the pink sheets.

  I manage to put a hand over my mouth to muffle another scream. I pull up the hem of my nightgown to see fresh blood dripping onto the carpet. Oh, shit.

  I remember what Tess told me and run down the hallway to the bathroom as fast as I can. God, this can’t be happening. I suppose it was inevitable, but why now? My first night as a woman and I’m having my period.
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br />   I throw open the medicine cabinet to look for something to plug up the bloody hole. There are bandages and aspirin, but no tampons or maxi pads. Tess must keep those in the master bedroom’s bathroom. That makes sense; she wouldn’t want some guest to find her feminine hygiene products.

  I decide to forget modesty and strip off the nightgown, followed closely by my bloodstained underpants. With nothing else at hand, I unroll a handful of toilet paper. I do what I can to shove the wad of paper between my legs. It seems to work, at least for the moment. Long enough I hope to get to Tess’s bathroom.

  I have to go much slower down the hall to keep the paper in. With each step I look down to make sure I haven’t started to leak. I pray I’m still asleep, that at any moment I’ll wake up in my apartment and find myself a fat old man again.

  I’m lucky Jake and Tess don’t have their door locked. I ease the door open and then peek inside. They’re both asleep, backs to each other. I wonder when was the last time they made love. Probably not for a while.

  I see a shiny drop of blood on the wooden floor at my feet and then burst into the bedroom. The knob of the door glints in the moonlight. I rush over to it; I don’t care anymore if the paper falls out. God, how much blood have I lost? The rate it’s going, I’ll need a transfusion for breakfast.

  I fling open the medicine cabinet and want to scream again. Still nothing. Is she out? Maybe she keeps some in her purse—

  I do scream again when I feel a hand on my shoulder. I spin around and see Tess in the doorway with a sad look on her face. “They’re under the sink,” she says. I’m about to ask how she knows, but then I think of the trail of blood I’ve left.

  I open the cabinets beneath the sink and there’s a pink plastic bag of maxi pads. I hold up the bag and then stare at it uncertainly. What am I supposed to do now? Tess stares at me expectantly. A woman my age should know what to do; whoever heard of getting your first period at twenty-one?

  I drop the package to the floor. I follow after it and dissolve into a sobbing heap on the floor. It’s a good thing Tess is there and that I can’t see any sharp objects or I would slit my wrists to be done with this nightmare.

  She bends down to put a hand on my shoulder. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? You can trust me. I won’t hurt you.”

  “I don’t know how,” I say between sobs.

  “Surely this can’t be your first time. Is it?”

  I still have enough rationality left to shake my head. Tess tilts my chin up to look me in the eye. “Didn’t your mother teach you?”

  “No.”

  “An aunt? A grandmother? A teacher? Anyone?”

  “No!” I shout and then continue to sob. “No one taught me anything.”

  “You poor, poor girl.” She puts her arm around my back to help me up to my feet. “Don’t worry, dear. I’ll show you how. All right?”

  I nod my head, the only coherent response I can make at this point. She sits me down on the toilet and then fetches the package of maxi pads. While I cry into a towel, Tess gives me a lecture on the female anatomy. “They aren’t usually this heavy. When you get to be an old woman like me you won’t have to worry about it anymore.”

  “Lucky you,” I say before I can think better of it. Tess has been anything but lucky in recent years. “I’m sorry about the mess I made. I’ve ruined Jennifer’s bed.”

  “I doubt that, dear. We can wash the sheets. And your underpants as well.”

  “Thanks.”

  When we finally emerge from the bedroom, Jake is still asleep. It’s amazing the racket I made didn’t wake him up. He’s a hell of a heavy sleeper. Or maybe he knew better than to get involved with this situation.

  Back in Jennifer’s bedroom I put on another nightgown and fresh panties to go over the pad. I sit quietly in the corner while Tess changes the sheets. As she said, the mess isn’t too bad on the bed; nothing soaked through to the mattress. The carpet will need a good cleaning.

  In lieu of a sheet, Tess puts down a towel for me to lie on. She pulls up the covers to my chin as if I’m a child who needs tucked in. She even smoothes hair away from my face to kiss me on the forehead. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

  “Goodnight, Tess,” I whisper.

  Though Tess closes the door behind her, I know she won’t go very far. She’s outside in case I need her. A part of me would like her to stay, to lie on the bed with me to keep me company for the rest of the night. Despite the blankets, I shiver.

  Chapter 16

  I wake up the next morning to Tess shaking my shoulder. “Time to get up, dear,” she whispers. “You have a big day ahead.”

  I groan at this. I know I need to get up, but my body feels as if it’s made of wet sand. Tess throws back the covers to help motivate me. I shiver on the mattress for a few moments before I drag myself off the bed.

  She pats my back and smiles at me. “It’s all right,” she says. “What you’re feeling is perfectly normal.”

  “I know.”

  I stumble down the hallway to the bathroom. After the night I had, a nice hot shower will feel good. I don’t wash for a couple of minutes; I prefer to stand under the water and let it flow over me. None of my many hangovers ever prepared me for this; it’s as if every part of my body has some complaint: my head aches, my stomach is queasy, and my legs are swollen. On top of that I’m so tired I almost fall asleep in the shower.

  The only thing that keeps me going is the thought of meeting with Dr. Palmer. She has to know about this FY-1978 drug; she has to know some way to cure me. If not, I don’t know what I’ll do. I can’t go on like this. It’s too much.

  After a half-assed attempt to wash my hair and scrub my sore body, I step out of the shower. Tess must have slipped in at some point to leave my clothes—freshly pressed—and another maxi pad. This time I know what to do with the pad, not that it’s any more pleasant.

  I remember what Tess said last night about taking care of myself, so I grab a comb and start to work on my hair. I’m not nearly as good at it as she is, so that soon it becomes a mess. With a sigh and tears in my eyes I throw the comb down. I ought to find a pair of scissors and cut the shit off.

  Of course Tess notices when I step out of the bedroom. She puts a hand on my shoulder. “Here, let me help you,” she says.

  “You don’t have to treat me like a baby. I can take care of myself.”

  “I’m sure you can on the street, but this is a whole new world for you.” That’s an understatement. She guides me back to Jenny’s bedroom to sit me down at the vanity again. There are some cosmetics open on the counter, probably for my eye. “Just sit very still.”

  I watch with awe in the mirror as again she transforms my tangled mass of hair into a silky masterpiece. This time she pulls it back tightly and wraps a scunci around it to keep it in a ponytail. That keeps it out of the way while she works on the bruise around my eye. When she finishes, there’s just a bit of discoloration still visible. She balances out the other eye with some mascara so that someone would have to look really close to notice the difference. After a little blush and lipstick I look like a grown up.

  “Wow,” I say. “You should have a salon.”

  “It’s just practice, dear,” she says. “I had a lot of it during Jennifer’s illness. She didn’t want people to know she was sick, at least not until we couldn’t hide the effects anymore.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it. You just go downstairs and have some breakfast.”

  “I’m not very hungry.”

  “I know, but try to eat something anyway. You’ll feel better.”

  “I guess.” Tess has been right about everything else, so I go downstairs to the dining room. Jake is already there with the morning paper. “Anything interesting?”

  “Nothing about Steve Fischer. A couple paragraphs about Dr. Nath in the back.”

  “Oh. So are they still looking for—him?”

  “I suppose they are.”

  Tess has l
aid out scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and cereal—a real balanced breakfast—but my stomach is only up to nibbling on the toast. That is until Tess comes downstairs. “Go on, eat,” she says. After the kindness she’s shown me, I force myself to down the whole meal. By the time I finish, I feel ready to throw up.

  “You feeling all right?” Jake asks. “You look a little green around the gills.”

  “I’m fine,” I snap.

  “Maybe you should stay here. I can handle Palmer—”

  “No! I have to go.”

  Tess reaches out to pat my hand. “Maybe it would be for the best—”

  “I have to see her. I have to!”

  “Stacey—”

  “Shut up! Both of you, just shut up and leave me alone. I can make my own decisions.” I stomp out to the Fairlane in the driveway. It’s locked, so I sit on the trunk and wait for Jake to come out. Tess is probably telling him what happened last night, about how my Aunt Flo came for a little visit. When will this nightmare end?

  I know I’m right when Jake forces a smile as he walks out to the car. “Hey, kid,” he says, “it’s all right. We’re just worried about you. You’ve been through a lot.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “It’s just everything’s different now, you know? I don’t know who I am or what I am.” I start to blubber again. It’s become a nasty habit.

  Jake does something I never expect: he pulls me in for a hug. He pats my back and says, “It’s all right. Just let it out.”

  We stay there for a long time as I cry on Jake’s shoulder. The strangest part about it is that I don’t feel embarrassed to cry in front of Jake. All those years we were partners and we never shared a moment like this. Now I wonder why.

  ***

  After I buckle up, I ask Jake, “So you believe me now?”

  He shrugs as he reaches into his jacket for a cigarette. “If you’re faking it then you’re the best con artist I’ve ever seen.”