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Night and Day By Theresa Anne Travis January 2005 Chapter 1 ? A Splitting Headache William Barret Travis, named for a semi-illustrious person in his family tree, stood in front of the sink and foggy mirror with a towel wrapped around his waist and wet hair plastering down his hair. The small apartment bathroom was like the inside of a wet cloud despite the best efforts of the feeble exhaust fan buzzing in the ceiling. The old, flowery wallpaper was yellowed and peeling. The warped linoleum floor creaked. It seemed to Billy that the inside of his head was like this bathroom; foggy and buzzing feebly. He had hoped that the long, steamy shower, followed by a shocking blast of cold water, would dispel the nimbus clouds inside his skull. Why did he always crawl out of bed feeling like the nasty wages of too many sins the night before? He always came home right after work and hit the hay early! Any Baptist preacher drank and partied more. The clouds throbbed ominously. This is unacceptable, he thought. I do not need another all day splitting headache. The mirror was cracked and splotchy. He fumbled for a hand towel and wiped, smearing the fog around with some lint. Just another way this apartment reflects my life, he brooded. It's the picture of Dorian Grey. Billy tugged on the side of the mirror to open the medicine cabinet. He shook a couple of extra strength analgesic tablets onto a shaking palm, swung the mirror closed, tossed the tablets into his mouth as he reached for the drinking glass. He almost dropped the glass. For a split second the ghostly reflection in the cracked mirror did not seem to be his, at least not all of it. As the mirror had swung shut the corner of Billy's eye had caught a split image. The left half matched his stubbled jaw but the right half was a woman's face; smooth jaw, distinct cheekbone, long eyelashes, finely arched eyebrow. Billy gripped the glass firmly and swallowed the tablets dry. He stared into the mirror. It was just his plain, tired face frowning disapprovingly back at him complete with dark circles under the eyes, beard shadow and all. Hmmm. Plastered down like that he wondered if his hair was getting a bit thin on top. He took a sip of water and gave his head a small shake to clear it. Ouch. Bad idea. He squeezed his eyes shut but saw that woman's half face through a swirling red haze. She seemed to be looking at him, waiting for him to do something. He grimaced and rubbed his temple. Her image faded but did not disappear. A verse from a silly novelty song heard on the radio long ago flitted annoyingly in his inner ear: "She's the one I'd, one I'd, one I'd, she's the one-eyed, one-eyed love." He did not live far from work. That was fine by him. He disliked long commutes and rush hour traffic jams. It took him no more than twenty minutes to pull out from his apartment building and into the work parking lot, all back roads in between. He spent his nights in an aging two-room apartment, his weekdays in a tiny office cubicle, and a few minutes walking to or from his worn econo-box car to travel between the two. Not much of a life, he reflected uncharacteristically as he locked the car door. He looked at the bit of rust above the back tire of his no-frills chariot. Well, at least it had windows so he could see what season it was. He mentally shrugged; maybe it was not a large life, but at least it was within his means. Tabatha's support checks took a big bite from each pay, but this was about more than disposable income. Tabby's sixteenth birthday was next week! Lord, how the years had flickered past. He could clearly remember her skinny five year old legs standing doubtfully on the grass as the black and white soccer ball rolled slowly past them. Her most recent soccer game was just last weekend. That memory was somewhat less distinct. What was her team's name? They changed it a while back. Cougars? Wildcats? It was some sort of feral feline. He had clapped and cheered each time she got the ball. When she scored all the soccer parents for the kids on her team roared wildly, and Nancy and he had jumped up and down hugging each other and screaming themselves hoarse, just like old times for two seconds. Then there was the awkward moment of disentanglement with synchronized mutters of "Sorry!" and the polite Lucite wall back in place. Tabby had been ten when he and Nancy had divorced. He had not contested it, wanting it to be as amicable as possible to spare everyone's feelings. But even after six years Nancy's sapphire blue eyes could turn instantly icy beneath corn silk blonde bangs. Tabatha had gotten her daddy's brown and mild eyes, and light brown, slightly curly hair. She was always using a straightening iron. All of the rest of her was cloned from Nancy: long, clean limbs, slender curves, prom queen face ? heck! Beauty queen or fashion model if she wanted. Despite Billy's efforts to make the split painless Tabby had taken it hard. Her grades had suffered and so had her attitude. She still had the small, angry reminders of a Goth phase: a couple of superfluous piercings and tattoos. Thank goodness she had left that behind soon after starting high school. Now she was popular, athletic, and in the top tenth percentile of her class. As a bonus, her steady boyfriend, Aaron Gold, seemed almost too good to be true; tall, handsome, track star, smart, and polite. A father's memory and logic told him that no red-blooded American teen could be trusted with a man's daughter. But, Billy's instinct was to trust his own daughter's judgment in Aaron Gold's case. They certainly made a nice couple. Maybe on her next visitation he would invite them both out to dinner. It would have to be someplace nice for her birthday, but not too pricey. There was that Italian restaurant on her side of town, or that clean Chinese place downtown. He should call her tonight and suggest it for this coming weekend. He struggled with a shadow of defeat as he pondered what to get her. He had no idea what kids these days liked that they did not already have. No wait, apparently he had already picked up something and let the fact slip his mind again. It was sitting on the coffee table in the apartment with a card that indicated it was from him to her. He took a sip of coffee and wished he could remember what it might be. The coffee's aromatic steam seemed to penetrate his reverie. He gave a start and stared at the mug. Tabby had given it to him for Father's Day three years ago. It had her picture, all braces and smile, and in fat pink letters under the picture, "Daddy's Girl." How had that gotten itself into his hand and how had he gotten himself from his car to his desk? How long had he been sitting here ruminating? Not too long apparently. The PC was only just finishing its boot up routines. He logged on and glanced at the page torn from an old desk calendar pinned to the cubicle wall just to the right of the monitor; the cubicle's only decoration. It read, "If a train station is where a train stops and a bus station is where a bus stops, what's a workstation?" The dull ache behind his eyes was growing less dull so he chose to evade it and plunge into the rhythm of dull, routine work. Chapter 2 ? The Other Woman Tabatha Ann Travis looked glumly at the cordless phone in her hand. The phone had rung as she walked in the front door, so she picked it up. Her dad had called to ask if he could take her and Aaron out to dinner this weekend. They agreed on Chinese at seven this Saturday night. She knew she had to have a heart-to-heart with him far from mom anyway. But, she was not sure she was ready for something like this just yet. She was not sure she would ever be ready. She put the phone in its cradle. Her eyes shifted to the manila envelope in her other hand. It held a report and a dozen eight by ten glossies shot through a telephoto lens: The Other Woman. Damn! She had really wanted to believe in him. But, how could he deny it when she had proof? Several pictures showed a well- dressed woman leaving his apartment late at night and driving off in his car. She stuffed the envelope into her book bag. She had decided to confront The Other Woman first, dragging Aaron along as wheels and moral support. The report detailed where that bitch spent her nights. Tabatha bounded up the stairs, passing her mom who was coming down. She asked who had called and Tabatha told her it was just dad, wanting to set up the next visit. As she shut her bedroom door behind her, she tossed her bag onto the desk and herself onto the quilt. There was a practiced grace to her arc. Her thumb dialed Aaron on her cell phone as her feet left the ground and her voice said "Hi!" before her head settled fully on the pillow. She and Aaron Gold had known each other since the second grade and had been best friends since junior high. She was the one he had come out to first, during their first semester of high school. She had held his sweating palm while he had come out to his parents. She had even gone with them to a few PFLAG meetings. PFLAG, Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays, was a national support group for families such as Aaron's, which had a local chapter in town. At one meeting, the guest speakers were Evelyn and her daughter, Danielle. Tabatha listened with mild curiosity, expecting to hear about a father coming out of the closet as gay. She was startled, though, when the attractive young woman claimed to have been Evelyn's son until she was fifteen. Tabatha thought Danielle could have been her older sister, with wavy brown hair exactly like her own, brown eyes, and cute face. She listened raptly all evening to them speak about gender identity and expression. In the weeks to follow she surfed the web for more information and got an A+ on her paper in English class when they read Julie Anne Peter's novel, "Luna," about a high school girl whose older brother was transsexual. Too bad the school board knuckled under pressure from a handful of vocal and angry parents and fired that English teacher. One of Aaron's aunts was a former cop and now a private investigator since her retirement from the force. Tabatha still had occasional nightmares and flashbacks from events that followed her tenth birthday. She called it TYFH in her diary: The Year From Hell. Not only did she get braces that she had to wear, like, forever, but also dad had lost his job, then his marriage. The parts distribution center where he had been an inventory analyst had closed up and moved south. As for the separation and subsequent divorce, both parental units had pretended it was something they both needed and wanted. But, drywall did not completely smother the frequent, stridently whispered arguments and occasional angry shouts. Mom accused dad of adultery and dad exasperatingly denied it. Mom still believed that dad had cheated and lied. They went to a marriage counselor, but the damage was done. Dad would not confess and beg forgiveness. Mom would not stop feeling betrayed. Tabatha had not known what to feel. Two weeks ago last Friday something happened to bring it all back and she found that she still did not know what to feel. Aaron had been driving her back across town after a late evening soccer game. Her team lost in a shoot out in the last two minutes, which put her in a foul mood. Since it was not out of the way, she asked him to swing past dad's place. If he was home, she might pop in to tell him about the game. Maybe he would perk her up a bit. But they rolled past instead of stopping. Tabatha saw a slim woman in a sweater dress get behind the wheel of dad's car and drive the other way. She tried to rationalize her nasty feeling. Maybe the woman was only a neighbor borrowing the car to get groceries. It was a short, red, snugly fitted sweater dress that left both shoulders bare; perfect for grocery shopping (yeah right!). Still, there probably was a perfectly innocent explanation. Besides, dad was single, and certainly mom's dating life was not lacking. But she just could not shake a bad feeling. A ten-year-old girl inside of her would not shut up or stop crying. Saturday, the day after that happened, dad had picked her up for horse back riding and a picnic. They had been out on the trails for a while when she bit her lower lip then asked her dad whether he was dating anyone. He smiled and said no. He still wore his gold band on his wedding finger. Tabatha found this a little sad somehow, and she was not sure if his answer made her feel better or not. But, she could not bring herself to ask about the woman taking his car. That night back in her own bed she tossed and turned fretfully instead of falling right to sleep. Suddenly she sat up. She had the business card Aaron's PI aunt had given her buried under junk on her desk. It had to still be there! Monday after school she would take her baby-sitting profits and pay her a visit. And now she held in her hand the information she had paid for; information about this woman and her relationship to dad, she hoped. Aaron's aunt had messaged her cell phone to let her know she had some pictures and background to give her. When she stopped there after school, Aaron's aunt handed over the envelope along with a strange comment. "Here ya go, honey, a basic background report and some basic paparazzi shots. Too bad you didn't have some more bucks. There's something odd about that woman. If I wasn't so busy right now, I'd almost be tempted to do some pro bone work, just for the challenge." "What's odd about her?" Tabatha wanted to know. "I don't know. I can't put my finger on it. But, for one thing, the woman is a bit of a mystery. It's like she just showed up out of nowhere six years ago, no high school or college records that I could find, no prior employment history, none of the usual state records stuff such as birth announcement, at least not under that name in this state. I wasn't about to go dumpster diving in her employer's trash on the off chance of finding her social security number, not for what you paid. The part time acts are paid under the table anyway or are working for tips. Just the same, even folks in a witness protection program have at least fake paper trails. This mystery gal ain't got a thing!" Tabatha dared another question, "Anything to show if she and dad knew each other six years ago?" "Sorry, girlie," the ex-cop shrugged. "If she was your dad's chippie back then, there's no tellin' now." Her mom was going on a date tonight. This Frank guy she had been dating off and on for years wanted to take her to a club downtown. They had the usual garage bands, comics and other live entertainment. While mom was out Aaron and she planned to follow Theresa to the women's shelter she volunteered at and confront her in person. Aaron was going to pick up Tabatha just as soon as mom left. Chapter 3 -- Insomnia Theresa Travis had put away the last dish from the dishwasher and was giving the counter a final wipe when the wall phone rang. The women staying at the shelter were expected to do most of the work around there, but a volunteer sometimes had to clean up behind those on kitchen duty, among other things. She wiped her hands on a towel and picked up. "Yes, Jill?" she sang. Her voice was a soft contralto that made everything she said sound lyrical. "You have a couple of young visitors, Theresa," the night receptionist announced. "Aaron and Tabatha. Shall I send them back?" Theresa's left eyebrow arched slightly higher as the only indication of surprise. What in the world? Why now? She nibbled a half second at a knuckle of her right hand. "No, I'll come up front, Jill. I'm finished in the kitchen and hope nobody minds if I quit early tonight." She smiled. "I think these two deserve my undivided attention and a nice leisurely visit." She untied the apron and tossed it into a used towel basket in the corner. A small flutter of stage fright in her stomach made her consider sneaking out the back. She instantly squelched that impulse. It would solve nothing and only complicate life more. It was better to grab the tiger by the ears and hold on. She ran her hands down her hips, smoothing the gray, knit drawstring pants, then tugged at the hem of the pink knit top. She took a compact from her purse, freshened her red lipstick, and brushed at a few curls with the short red nails of one hand. She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly through pursed lips before setting off down the hall, the medium heels of her gray suede sandals tapping with each relaxed, confident step. The lobby's inner doors were one-way glass to protect the women clients from unwelcome intruders. Theresa looked carefully at the two teenagers before going through. She extended a hand towards them in greeting as she went into the lobby. "Hello! Tabatha, Aaron. What a surprise!" Tabatha had politely accepted the hand and Theresa turned it into a casual, brief hug. She touched Aaron's shoulder without releasing Tabatha's hand from her warm grip as she turned toward the woman sitting behind the lobby desk. "Jill, this is my niece and her boyfriend. Let me get my coat, sweeties, and we can go." The receptionist smiled back and murmured as she waved goodbye. "Have a good time but don't keep them out late," she laughed. "It is a school night, you know." Theresa got her coat from the closet and gently (firmly) took each of the kids by an arm and let them escort her outside. Theresa hoped this gambit, this making a first and probably unexpected move, would accomplish several good things. By immediately letting them know she knew them and possibly knew more about them than they of her she might hold the higher ground and begin with control of the situation, in other words immediately establishing that she had the advantage. By declaring herself Tabatha's aunt she might define the relationship between them and also between herself and Billy. By framing it in a familial and non-confrontational context she might defuse the possibility of dramatics: an angry outburst or worse, making a scene. In a completely natural and uncalculated way, she made another move. "Let's find a nice cozy coffee house where we can chat comfortably. I know just the place. Aaron, I hope you don't mind driving. Your car looks much more comfortable than that rusty little box I drive. You can drop me off back here afterwards. And don't worry. I'll be sure to get you back before it gets too late to be out on a school night." Her smile was genuinely warm and her contralto voice held a motherly chuckle. The two young adults were off balance and found it easy to respond in the role she had offered them. She steered Tabatha to the back seat and got in next to her, leaving Aaron to be chauffeur. She kept her gentle hold on Tabatha's arm, enjoying the physical closeness of her niece (daughter) in a way Billy could never experience. It did not hurt either that it also pressured Tabatha to sort out her own feelings and hopefully toward a non-hostile direction. Still, there was a hint of ice to Tabatha's words. "I didn't know dad had a sister." Aaron's ten and two grip on the steering wheel as he backed the car was firmer than his usually casual one hand at six style. His eyes in the rear view mirror shifted briefly to his passengers. "Uh," he said. "Tabby, I think Theresa is closer than a sister to your dad." Tabatha misunderstood. Her back and shoulders stiffened slightly as she confronted her own worst fears as she imagined them. "So, are you Dad's girlfriend?" "What? Good heavens, no," Theresa answered with that warm contralto laugh. "Aaron, I think you know where The Library is; that little coffee shop on State Street. It's just a few blocks from here. Why don't we go there?" It was more a suggestion than a true question. "No my dear. I am not your dad's girlfriend. In fact I've never really cared for him all that much. He's so flat don't you think?" Tabatha squirmed uncomfortably at the truth of this because of her unconditional loyalty to her father. Her eyes suddenly widened to a worse scenario. "Maybe you're some sort of wacko stalking my dad!" "Tab!" Aaron cut in. "That woman is your dad." The muscles in his jaw were bunching. He had not meant to be so direct. But his words did have the effect he sort of intended, which was to stop his best friend's spinning. They had the same effect as a slap in the face with a cold wet wash clothe. Tabatha recoiled. "Oh-my-gawd!" she squeaked. Her free hand jumped to cover her mouth. Theresa looked her deeply in the eyes and merely smiled, patting her captive hand. "Now, now. I'm not entirely comfortable with putting it that way and certainly would prefer that you see me as your aunt. In a way, it's really closer to the truth." As Tabatha relaxed a teensy bit, uncertainly. Theresa turned her smiling brown eyes to Aaron. "So, no doubt you clocked me right away. Well, here we are at the coffee shop where we can talk comfortably about everything." Theresa suppressed a chuckle that Aaron had beat Tabatha to the punch. Usually the teen girls were the ones with the supernatural power of reading a male-to- female trans-woman. Aaron parked the car and then held the door for the two women. Theresa slid off her coat and draped it over one arm. She led them to a booth in the back corner. At this hour the coffee shop had only a few patrons, none of who were in that section. Theresa picked a folded, photocopied sheet that served as menu from a giant paperclip. "I don't know about you kids but I'm starved. They've got some scrumptious Danish, muffins and rolls. Or you're welcome to a sandwich or a salad. I swear the Rubin is three inches thick. I'm buying so don't be shy." She refolded the sheet and slid it to them. The server arrived to put down a carafe of coffee and a small pitcher of real cream. She was a succulent woman, slightly provocative in spite of a plus-size figure that was currently unfashionable. "Hi! Terri. Corrupting the youth of this town tonight?" She did not seem to be expecting an answer. "You've been here three seconds already. Know what ya want yet?" Theresa laughed at her. "Betty, you can be such a bitch. And I mean that in the nicest possible way, of course. These two are my niece, Tabatha, and her boyfriend, Aaron. They're poor but honest. Better let me have the check." To the youngsters she stage-whispered, "Betty was living out of dumpsters until I got her into rehab." Betty snorted indignantly but winked at the teens. "I was clean and dry and staying at the shelter when you helped me find this gig, and you know it! You going to tell lies all night and let these two cuties starve or are you going to order?" She jotted down their orders and said, "Good! Another table just sent the exact same thing back to the kitchen, so I can let you have it fast and cheap." She stuffed her pad into an apron pocket and swayed off. Tabatha was doubtful about which part, if any, was credible. But, their order did arrive amazingly fast. Aaron got only a diet coke but Tabatha got a burger with homemade waffle chips and decaf coffee. The burger was large, so she cut it in half and shoved part at Aaron along with most of the chips and pickle on an extra plate. He seemed to have been expecting that. Theresa got a blueberry Danish to go with her French roast java. Just the aroma wafting from the mug was so strong that Tabatha wondered how that woman... man (whatever!) got any sleep. Then she made a step toward things clicking into place as she realized why dad always looked haggard whenever she saw him. The dark circles under his eyes and droop lines sagging his cheeks made him look old. How can Theresa... dad... look so perky and fresh now? Her eyes (he! Damn!) certainly sparkled as Betty scooted into the booth beside her. They gave each other friendly hugs and pecks on the cheek. Betty grinned at Tabatha. "God damn me if she ain't got your eyes Terri! She's a helluva lot prettier though. Lucky for her she didn't get your plain face and Olive Oyl body." Tabatha blushed but continued to eat her burger. It was very good and they had missed dinner. Besides she needed a cover for her sudden attack of tongue-tied. Why did Betty's familiar insults to Theresa make her want to defend her... dad's... attractiveness? This was so confusing! On any account, Theresa seemed able to defend herself. "At least I don't have a butt that needs the whole bench." She pinched Betty's bottom to emphasize whose posterior did, making her jump and chortle. "Go away and shake down your other customers for tips while I visit with my niece and her boyfriend." "Okay! No need to push," Betty laughed. "But, I demand to hear all the juicy gossip later." She slid back out and did small busy work around the other tables, mostly empty, out of hearing range but within line of sight at all times. The small crinkles in the corners of her gray eyes seemed to have a few lines of concern for her friend. Tabatha suddenly realized why Theresa picked a public place for this "confrontation." It reduced the chance that anyone would make an ugly scene. Then another suspicion squirmed into her conscious. Did Theresa have something to fear from her niece (daughter!)? Involuntarily Tabatha glanced up to meet her eyes. Yes. There was something vulnerable beneath all that poise and charm; an almost desperate longing. Oh-my-gawd she loves me! I've seen that look in Mom's eyes, too. Well, of course. Dad has always loved me. But, I've never seen this side of it in his look. He was always just... there... maybe a little distant. Aaron interrupted her inner dialog by taking a long sip from his glass and clearing his throat as he put it back on the napkin. "I, uh, didn't clock you right away, Mrs. Travis." "'Theresa', please!" Theresa exclaimed in a soft voice. "'Mrs. Travis' is Tabatha's mother, nor am I married. Besides, it's just ourselves here tonight; all family and friends." "Theresa. You do look like Mr. Travis' twin sister. But mostly I clocked you from how you seemed to know so much about us." Tabatha jumped in. "Dad! What exactly is going on?" "Tabatha, please!" Theresa sighed, holding up a palm to stop her. "To understand what is going on you first have to understand that, however much I cherish you, I am not your dad. He and I are two distinct people who just happen to timeshare the same body. It really might help to try to think of me as your dad's missing twin sister." "So, what? Are you, like, schizo or something?" "Uh, shrink wrapped labels can be more hindrance than help to the uninitiated. But let me see if this little bit might help. In the beginning, your dad and I were one person, a whole, undifferentiated child who looked like an average little boy on the outside, but inside was both boy and girl. As we grew, though, and learned not just how to speak but what to say (and what not to say), and learned the rules of behavior and unspoken taboos and expectations, I became more like your dad's twin sister." "After we had gotten beaten pretty badly a few times for breaking the unspoken rules I became just one of your dad's invisible friends that every child has. When we were eight, something very bad happened that, uh, made me run away from home. Bill erased all memories of me and made himself believe I had never even existed. He couldn't help it. It was an unconscious survival mechanism. But I was left to live only in his dreams." Theresa paused to let her words sink in and to choose her next ones carefully. "Your mom was Billy's high school sweetheart. She was his first experience with physical intimacy, too. He was a virgin until his wedding night. His dad, as you know, was a pastor for a very conservative rural church. So Billy was steeped from an early age in shame and guilt. Besides, people with awful secrets are sometimes painfully shy as they grow into adults." "Although your mom and dad loved each other a lot, and still do in many ways, the close bonding that sexual intimacy can bring was not there to help them through the inevitable challenges. He was never exactly a passionate lover. Your mom sensed that he was keeping secrets from her and that didn't help matters either. For whatever reason, she got it in her head that your dad was getting his needs met outside their marriage. It probably didn't help much that I made a few slips myself." Tabatha had gripped Aaron's hand under the table like a girlfriend. She had gotten pale except for rosy spots over her cheekbones. She almost whispered, "So, in a way... you were The Other Woman. Maybe Dad didn't cheat on mom with you. But still... what kind of slips?" Theresa focused on infinity somewhere out the window as she recalled. "Well, accidentally losing a pair of pearl earrings under the car seat where she found them. Also, your dad was suffering insomnia pretty badly for a couple of years before your tenth birthday. ?Getting a little behind at the office' is not a funny joke to a wife whose husband has been putting in eighty hours a week, including weekends, forgetting dinner engagements (but never soccer games), and too often getting out of bed to do work from home late at night." "The straw that broke the camel's back happened one night while your mom and dad were asleep I got into an online chat with a guy whose name was Kim. I guess I was being a bit flirtatious. Your mom got steamed hearing me giggle as I typed across the hall. The next morning she snooped around on the computer and saw a note back from him that was very flirtatious. Naturally she jumped to conclusions. She confronted Billy about it and he honestly had no idea what she was talking about. After all, he had been sleepwalking the whole time I was trying to sneak a bit of life. The whole thing might have been funny sitcom material if it hadn't hurt everyone involved so much." She shook her head sadly. Tabatha looked as though she had a bad taste in her mouth. "You like guys?" she wanted to know. "Sure. Why not? So does your mom, and you I'm guessing, and many other women," Theresa replied with only a hint of irony. "But... you, like, have a penis? Ew!" At this Aaron gave Tabatha a look that spoke volumes. She caught it and blushed some more. Theresa decided this might be a good time to drop another bombshell. "In case you're wondering whether or not I'm gay, let me say two things. First, I do like gals, too. So I suppose I'm a bi- lesbian. Betty and I," she indicated their friendly server polishing silverware and glasses with a towel, "were a pretty hot item for a couple of years after your mom kicked your dad out and I started getting out more. She helped me get my job at the club. We're still great friends as you can tell even after mutually agreeing we needed to see other people." "As for the confusion that genital configuration might cause, I am planning to correct that. I started hormones earlier this month and have my first laser electrolysis scheduled this Friday. A year from now I will fly to Thailand for surgeries to complete my gender transition." Both teens sat with jaws slack and eyes wide. Chapter 4 -- Lacuna Billy missed Tabatha's soccer game Saturday afternoon. His boss, Frank, had asked him to come in to work for a few hours to copy and bind stacks of documents needed by a client on Monday. He normally did not mind the extra pay from overtime. But Saturday afternoon when his daughter played was one of the few times he hated to give up. But he was going to have dinner with her and her boyfriend that evening anyway. Besides, Frank had been acting strangely toward him lately. The word "queerly" almost popped into his mind but he managed to suppress it. Best not to rock the boat. Speaking of queer things, he himself had not been feeling his usual self this past week. His chest pained him. Angina? Exercise ache? He couldn't quite put his finger on it. Except that when he did, by touching a nipple, it seemed sensitive and disagreeable. He seemed to have some kind of knots under the nipples, too. Maybe some glands were swollen, like people get in the neck when they have a virus. He hardly noticed it except like right now carrying a box of printer paper from the closet. He had to carry it low instead of balancing it against his chest, which would have been easier on the back and arms but was too uncomfortable for his chest. Maybe he needed to get a doctor's checkup. And while he was at it, he should have the rash on his face looked at, too. He woke up this morning and was not even able to shave. The areas around his jaw, mouth, chin and neck burned just from the menthol in the shaving cream. It was as though someone had tried to shave him with a butane lighter. He had washed off the shaving cream with cold water and gingerly patted it dry before applying liberal amounts of aloe vera gel. Luckily, the usual morning stubble seemed to be missing this morning. Maybe whatever was causing the rash was somehow making beard follicles inactive. He lost that train of thought as he came back to the big copier and found it stopped. Great! Another paper jam. The diagnostic clues on the LCD screen were frustrating, and somehow patronizing, rather than helpful. He started pulling out the paper trays, opening doors and tugging on tiny green handles. He did manage to find several accordianed sheets but apparently not all of them. Each time he closed it up and it went through its warm up cycle it flashed an error message again. He sighed and doggedly began the hunt again. The copier was in a room next to Frank's office. He heard his boss on the phone but it went in one ear and out the other until he realized that Frank was talking about him. A small crease deepened between his brows as he listened. Although he continued to kneel before the infernal machine and peer into its innards, he had stopped slamming doors and drawers shut. Frank was a big guy who tended to use his "outdoors voice" even when indoors, especially when using the speakerphone as he was now. Bill could make out most of what Frank was saying at his end, but not what the other person was saying. "No Nancy. No, just wait, honey. Will you please just calm down. I'm sure Billy hasn't found out about our little fling before your divorce." Bill heard Frank's leather chair groan as his big frame rock back. "Hold on, just hold on for a second. Good grief! What the heck has you so rattled? If Billy had any suspicions I'd know it immediately. There's absolutely no chance that he'll try to go back to court to change the divorce decree or fight for custody. Besides, he's smart enough to know when not to rock the boat. I gave him this job especially to keep an eye on him as well as help your family out when times got tough back then. He's been as meek as a mouse these past five years. Believe me, he knows when to bend over for the job to please the boss. He's here right now doing some secretary work, which saves me a bunch considering my secretary gets a lot more than him with overtime. And he gives better blow jobs than my secretary, too." Frank laughed crudely even as he apologized. "Sorry, sweetie. I was just joking. Billy's as straight as they make, and you know I ain't one of them pansy fags. I like what you got and you like gettin' it from me. Look, we'll talk tonight while your daughter is out dining with dad. Yes. Okay, see ya then. Bye!" Frank continued to chuckle after he had punched off the phone. "Oh Nancy," he said smugly to the air. "You are one hot bitch. You've made daddy a happy dick these past six years. And your ex ain't bad either. He really does give better head than that cute little bimbo who takes my dictation. And he's got one hot, tight ass when he's in the mood. He's been getting that look in the eye again lately. Maybe he'll be in the mood to take a hint... it's been too long since he last bent over to please the boss and do the job." Billy's face was now seared all over from collar to tips of ears. Absent all day, his headache returned with a vengeance. This was too darn much to take in at once. He drew a ragged breath and attacked the damned copier so he could just get out of there and get ready to meet his daughter. But... Frank's secretary really got paid more than him? That was definitely unacceptable! Meanwhile, Frank put both big hands behind his head and big leather shoes on the mahogany desk. He stared out the window and smiled as he reminisced. His sister, Susan, was a long time friend of Nancy Travis. In fact, it was thanks to Susan's car being in the shop that he met Nancy. Susan had asked him to swing by the gym to give them a lift home after one of their workouts. That leotard Nancy was wearing gave him an instant hard-on in his boxers. Hmmm. Nice tits, too. He had a good view of them when she leaned over to give Susan a peck. He watched her ass as she jogged up the walkway to her door and decided right then that he would definitely have to have some of that. Susan had slugged his leg hard as they drove away because of the way he had been checking out her friend. It took him six months to seduce her into adultery. But, by then Nancy was convinced that Billy was cheating on her first. Frank had also found out where at least some of Billy's late nights at the office were actually going. He had been checking out the new talent at Illusions, the club down town that featured female impersonators. Some of those she-males could be pretty damned convincing and also pretty damned hot, especially when sinking to their knees and unzipping his fly out back. One new "girl" with short brown hair had an average body, but a cute face, great taste in clothes, and very feminine gestures. In fact, she really did not seem flamboyant enough for the stage, but she somehow managed to get a respectable audience response. She actually sang instead of lip-synced and had a warm contralto voice that knew how to cuddle with the guys (and dykes) in the crowd. Most of the gals would do a few odd jobs (especially ones known as "blow") as a way of boosting income. Frank had approached her a few times about head without success. She seemed so familiar, which only made him more obsessed with her. One night after politely but firmly turning down his offer again she had gotten into a nice BMW and driven off. Frank recognized the car, even to the license plate. He had watched it drive off enough times as he waited for Nancy to be alone for a rendezvous. Suddenly, that cute little face superimposed itself on Billy's and something went click in his head. If it had been a light bulb, he would have been blinded by the sudden illumination. Should he tell Nancy? Naw. He could think of other ways to make use of this information. He bided his time. The marital rift between Nancy and Billy was growing and Nancy needed Frank's comforting more desperately. She had slipped one night and said something that made it clear that Billy was lousy in the sack. Being laid off did not improve his performance. The next time he accosted that chick with a dick, he offered his usual ante. "Theresa" (as the he-bitch called himself) made her usual polite turn down. So Frank said, "What's the matter Billy? A flop with a real woman but can't please a real man either? And don't need the money?" If Frank hoped to see a glint of fear in "her" eyes, he was disappointed. The barely perceptible glint was steely beneath the sudden smile. "I'm afraid you have the advantage of me, Sir," she said. "But, as you seem to have a deep love for my family, it would be ungracious of me not to reciprocate in some way." She turned her head coyly. "Is there some where we could go to negotiate this matter privately?" Frank put his big hand on the small of her back to steer her toward his car. His little smile was triumphant as he thought to himself I've got this little bitch by her balls now. Frank dropped his feet off the desk and sat up. Theresa had been a skillful little minx, even better at impersonating a woman in bed than on the stage. Frank did not consider himself gay. In fact those pansy fags disgusted him. But, he did not mind showing a queen what a real man could do at either end. He rubbed his eyes and had a rueful thought: who had who by the balls? The last time he had face-fucked Theresa he enjoyed the thought of letting his little she-male enjoy the taste of her ex-wife's pussy still on his cock. He had just left Nancy's to meet the darling little fag. Far from being humiliated by it, she had seemed even a little cocky. Frank chuckled in his leering way at that pun. Boy! That Theresa was nothing like Billy at all. Their two personalities were like night and day. Frank had long since realized that Billy seemed to know nothing about getting fucked by his boss. Frank decided that the loser must be split personality. An article in the paper about Multiple Personality Disorder, or Dissociative Identity Disorder as it now seemed to be called, caught his eye. Frank clipped it and kept it in his desk. He found out in pillow talk with one of the HR chicks he was laying when Billy had started using company benefits to see a shrink. He hired a man to bribe an office worker in the shrink's practice to copy his file and pass it to him. The man had been a real pro and needed hardly any bribe money. He had merely hinted to the receptionist that his client did sensitive government work and homeland security, patriotism, anti- terrorism, et cetera required a quiet approach. The government could get a court order or even act on probable cause under the Patriot Act without a bench warrant. But, her cooperative attitude might get noted in an FBI (maybe even an IRS) file. After working veiled threats he played a trump card by insinuating that the patient was a known pervert being investigated for suspicion of child molesting. The righteous look on her face as she slipped him the file copies and accepted an envelope thick with bills was hilarious. The man had wondered how much of that bribe found its way to a church collection box. People are so predictable, Frank mused, especially that Billy. The guy was a zero, practically a zombie. He did absolutely nothing out of line at work or outside work; well, if you overlook the fact that he dressed up like a cunt every night and took it in the ass from his boss once in a while. It was funny how he could see when Theresa was looking out those brown eyes instead of Billy. It was not just a barely noticeable effeminacy in voice, posture, gesture, walk; a grace that Billy totally lacked. There was something about the eyes. Maybe that "windows of the soul" bullshit had something to it. Instead of Billy dressing up to impersonate a woman, it was easy to see it as Theresa dressing up to impersonate a man. Frank had an instinct for when he could call Billy to his office for a "talk" behind closed doors and be waiting for him with his erection poking up through the open fly of his pants. Or was it the other way around? Did Theresa have an instinct for dropping a hint in "her" glance or tone that "she" was ready, willing, and able to get him by the pole and turn him into a drooling, babbling sex addict? Frank frowned. She certainly was not predictable. That slut-boy bestowed her favors when she wanted, whether at work or at the club. She was the only gal who did not seem to hop when he said jump. Frank did not know why he did not get a little heavier on her, maybe even slap her around a bit. But before he could follow that thought a light rapping on his door interrupted. Frank had a raging erection, which made him blush a bit and clear his throat before saying come in. It was Billy, a bit pale and tense looking, but flat in the eyes. It was just Billy, not Theresa. "Yeah. What is it?" "Uh, Frank. The documents are all done. Is there anything else you need?" Theresa had used that same phrase several times before. It sounded as different in her warm, sweet mouth as night and day. Frank wondered if he could make Theresa appear by threatening Billy. He sighed; probably not. His hard-on had withered so he got up from the big chair and came around the desk. "No, Billy. Why don't you get out of here and enjoy what's left of the weekend. I'm getting ready to leave, too. Thanks for coming in on short notice. You've been a big help." He put a hand on Billy's shoulder as they turned to walk out his office door. Did Billy flinch a little? Well, what of it if he did. Chapter 5 ? Fortune Cookie Nancy Travis poured another half glass of white wine for herself, emptying the bottle. Frank had come and gone, literally. She pulled her plush bathrobe tighter and tossed a throw over her legs folded next to her on the couch. The sex had not been all that great tonight and she had run a hot bath in the garden tub and lingered in the suds after Frank had left. He had seemed distracted and not fully present. She wondered if there was somebody else, then felt foolish. Of course, dummy. With a guy like Frank there was always somebody else. Shit! She was one of those "somebody elses" to God knows how many other women he slept with. She really ought to demand he use a condom, she reminded herself after the fact for the umpteenth time. Frank had even slipped tonight and called out a different name in the throes of passion. But, as degrading and loveless as the sex was, it was still pretty damned hot, especially compared to Billy's lovemaking. He had always been tender and attentive, but always so inhibited. There were too many nights when he seemed unable to even enjoy being touched in any way. She knew his highly religious parents had damaged him that way. But, he did not seem able to loosen up and get past it. Or maybe he loved her like a sister. When she had found out he had cheated on her she had been crushed. Then she had been outraged that he lied about it to her face. She had a right to know the truth, to demand that he come clean. Aaron had dropped off Tabby fifteen minutes ago. She had said "Hi!" as she ran up the stairs and closed her door. Nancy could hear her coming back down now. She took another sip of wine and rolled her head, stretching tight muscles in the neck. "Did you have a good visit with your father, honey?" she asked as her daughter sat down on the couch with her and pulled part of the throw over her own legs. "Yeah, sure. It was okay." Tabatha's shrug seemed such a stereotype of teen answers to almost anything an adult might ask. "I brought home some fried rice and moo goo gai pan if you want it. The place Dad took us has pretty good food but way too much of it." Her arms hugged her legs and she rested her chin on her knees. She had changed into a pink flannel nightshirt. She looked as though she were about to ask a difficult question. "Mom? Was Frank here tonight?" Nancy was a little curious about why her daughter was asking this. "Yes. I suppose he left the toilet seat up in the hall bathroom again." "Yeah, and there's also the smell of victory cigar and the whiskey glass on the counter. Mom? Do you think he's the one?" Nancy gave a small laugh. She and her daughter had agreed years ago be open and honest with each other while respecting each other's privacy. She said, "No, sweetheart. Frank is definitely not Mr. Right. Besides the matters of toilet etiquette and stinky stogies, I'm clearly not Ms. Right." "Well, I hope you practice what you preach about safe sex!" Nancy smiled at her daughter's "adult" concern and met her gaze. "I think I'll take the fifth on that one. Let me just say that I am a mature adult who takes responsibility for her choices." "Well, I hope Frank is worth the risk. I'm kinda glad that you don't hear wedding bells where he's concerned. Maybe it's selfish of me, but I don't know that I'd be comfortable with him as a step-dad. Something about him doesn't vibe quite right. I'll bet he cheats on you more than dad ever did." Nancy was taken aback slightly by her daughter's perceptiveness as well as her bare honesty. She reluctantly admitted to herself that she had to reciprocate in that honesty a little. "Well, technically he doesn't cheat because we haven't made any commitments to each other, not even implied ones. But, yes, I know he is seeing other women." Nancy smiled ruefully. "He even called out another woman's name tonight, like the absolute cad he is. Theresa. I wonder if I know her? Not likely; I don't know anyone by that name." Tabatha was frowning and chewing a thumbnail. "Aaron and I met a Theresa at The Library a few days ago." She rationalized the white lie as justified even though she knew her mom was likely to assume the school building not a coffee shop. "But she seems too nice to go with a creep like Frank." Then she blushed as she realized how she had just insulted her mother. "Oh-my-gawd! Mom, I am so sorry. I didn't mean that at all like it sounded." She was blushing bright red and she buried her face in her hands. "What I really meant was, uh..." But her mom interrupted before she could explain what she had really meant. "My goodness! You really don't like Frank, do you? And maybe you have some issues with me, too?" Nancy patted her daughter's hair and lifted her chin. "It's okay. I think I know what you really meant. So let's talk about this Theresa. How did you happen to meet her? How do you know she is so nice?" Tabatha studied the candle flame on the coffee table for a few seconds, and then began; "Aaron and I were going into the library at the same time this woman was. She looked so much like she might be dad's twin sister that I guess I must have stared. So she just came right out and started talking to us. When we introduced ourselves, she claimed that she really was dad's sister, or at least his half sister; an illegitimate one. She claimed that grandpa had fooled around behind grandma's back. The good reverend apparently got a young member of his congregation pregnant and paid her to leave town." She laughed at a new twist (and by her clever little story invented on the fly). "Maybe dad inherited a gene for unfaithfulness, or maybe granddaddy was really a Mormon." Nancy was shocked by this gossip. She had never met Billy's parents as they had died in a church fire when he was young. He had moved to her town to live with an aunt and that's how they had met in high school. He had been such a shy, awkward, but sweetly sensitive guy; and a dud as a lover. Maybe what she saw in Frank that kept her involved with him all these years was the complete antithesis from Billy; someone loud, big, dominating, and highly sexed. There was something about that church fire, though, a hint that an angry member of the church may have started it, although no one had been arrested and the matter was considered simply a tragedy. Billy had said little about his parents, good or bad. "Tell me, Tabby. Do you think this woman is on the up and up? Or could she just be some kind of con artist?" Nancy soberly asked her daughter. "Mom, if dad had been born a girl, he would have grown up looking exactly like this woman. I swear. They look more like fraternal twins than half siblings. And she seemed to know everything about dad's family. She even said some things that I bet dad doesn't know. I'd really like for you to meet her. It would be nice to have an aunt, since I never had any brothers or sisters ? that I know of anyway." She giggled mischievously. Nancy gasped, "Why you little brat!" She pulled her daughters hair mischievously to pay her back. "That you know of indeed! OK, I'll give this Theresa a call and maybe invite her to dinner. It might be nice to have an ex-sister-in-law. But, if I find out she's screwing around with Frank, she won't set a foot in this house. I could never respect someone who would sleep with the likes of him!" Her mock serious tone made her daughter giggle again. "So," Nancy asked her daughter, "How do I get in touch with her?" Tabatha's mom was clearly becoming enthused at the idea of inviting both Theresa and Billy over for dinner. What a wonderful surprise it would be for both of them! Tabatha reluctantly gave mom Theresa's cell phone number, and then watched in horror as she dialed. Oh! Thank goodness she had dialed dad's number. Her mom was surprised to hear a woman's voice answer. She wondered for an instant whether she might have misdialed, until the woman on the other end followed her "Hello" with a "Billy Travis' residence?" Bemusement immediately followed disorientation. Billy was certainly entitled to a lady friend in his apartment. It was just that he never had before. "Hi! This is Nancy? Billy's ex?" Why did being made unsure of herself make her sound as though she wasn't even sure who she was? "Is he in?" "Hello Nancy! No, Billy's not here right now. Can I take a message?" "No, just let him know I called." Then Nancy decided to make a leap. "Um, are you Theresa, Billy's half-sister?" Theresa's chuckle sounded warm. She guessed right away what kind of story her clever little niece must have fabricated. "Why, yes I am! Your daughter has told me so much about you, all good." Nancy glanced at her daughter as she answered, "I was going to call you anyway. Tabatha was telling me just now how she and her boyfriend had run into you at the library the other night. I thought it would be great to have you over for dinner and a drink next week to meet you. In fact, I wanted to make a nice surprise by having you and Billy over. Obviously, you two have already met." Nancy was twisting a strand of honey blonde hair around a finger as she talked, a habit she did unconsciously when nervous. "Why, thank you Nancy!" Theresa answered enthusiastically. "That would be lovely! It was so nice of you to think of that and I feel badly about ruining the surprise part. Your daughter is absolutely charming. I am already feeling like an aunt, a new experience for me. But, I feel as though I have known her a long time." "How does next Wednesday at 7:30 sound? Tabatha will be home from soccer practice by then." "That will be fine. I'm really looking forward to meeting you. I'll let Billy know. Bye." "Bye," Nancy echoed and disconnected. She put down the phone and, as she looked up, she surprised a looked of panic on her daughter's face. "Tabby? Is something the matter?" "Huh? Oh! No mom. Everything's fine. You'll love Aunt Theresa. Well, it's getting late. I'd better get to bed. See you in the morning, mom." Tabatha gave her mom a quick kiss on the cheek and then bounced up the stairs, leaving her mom to puzzle over her daughter's strange behavior; odd even by normal standards for teens. She gave up with a shrug and decided to have a snack before heading upstairs herself. Nancy turned off the light and the fireplace. Her busy evening had left precious little time for a proper meal. The leftovers Tabatha had brought home from the Chinese restaurant sounded tasty and not too heavy. She found the doggy bag in the fridge and pulled out the contents: a Styrofoam box of fried rice, another of chicken and veggies in a translucent, pale sauce, and an unopened fortune cookie. She spooned the rice and entree onto a plate and put it in the microwave. While waiting for it to reheat she absently snapped open the cookie and read the small slip of paper. It said, "You will find your true love again." Huh! Go figure, she thought. It only goes to show how hokey these things are. Chapter 6 ? Two Places at Once Tabatha's door was not completely shut. Nancy could hear her talking to her boyfriend on the phone. Something urgent in her tone made Nancy break a strong taboo and eavesdrop guiltily. Her daughter's stage whisper was clear. "Aaron what'll we do? Mom invited dad, too. There's no way Aunt Theresa and dad can both be here at the same time! Gawd! I feel like I'm in the worst part of Mrs. Doubtfire. What if she invites Frank and makes it all totally surreal?" She was close to sobbing. "Crap! I wish I had never even opened my big mouth about her!" Nancy was getting itchy in the dark hall and ghosted into her own bedroom, stepping carefully to avoid the creaky spots under the carpet. What the hell was that all about she wondered. She was still wondering after she had brushed her teeth and slid between the sheets. Tabatha was having a restless night. Nightmares interrupted even small snatches of fitful sleep. Around 3:00AM she gave up and punched the number for Illusions. She had not really expected Theresa to answer, but was disappointed anyway when the club's assistant manager answered. "No, sugar. We're closing and she left an hour ago." "Okay," Tabatha stammered. "Thanks." She disconnected. Then she punched the number for dad's apartment. She got the answering machine. What would dad think if she left a message for Theresa? But this was an emergency, so she decided to risk it. She had drifted off into another bad dream when her phone's vibration jerked her awake. She had no chance to muffle her "Eek!" But she was relieved to here Theresa's voice. Across the hall her mother's head jerked up from her pillow. She tiptoed over to the door compulsively to eavesdrop again. Why was Tabatha so upset? Why was she calling a relative she had just met in the middle of the night? What was she not telling her own mother? Tabatha's desk lamp clicked on. Dim yellow light leaked into the hall. Nancy heard the faint scratching of pen on paper. Her daughter was trying to keep her voice down. "You're going to call the doctor's office to switch your appointment to Monday morning? How am I going to get dad to keep that appointment? Skip classes? Good grief! You've got to be kidding! I'm supposed to tell dad that Aaron gave me an STD and don't want mom to know. Now, tell me why dad won't smell a rat. Oh! Dr. McHugh works out of the Women's Health Clinic down town. Well, I suppose it's worth a try and I can't come up with anything better. I'll call dad before he goes to work. Aaron can drop me off before his first class." She hung up, switched off the light and got back in bed. Nancy waited in the dark, suffering goose bumps and a complaining bladder, until she heard sleep breathing from her daughter's door. She lay awake for an hour trying to make sense of everything she had heard. Several times she had to fight the compulsion to storm into her daughter's room and demand some explanations. She was her mother! But, she was too proud to admit she had been eavesdropping, or admit that her faith in her daughter was less than her fear for her. No, she sighed in resignation. She just had to play her part, pretend she had overheard nothing and hope that Tabatha knew what she was doing. Chapter 7 -- The Incredible Shrinking Man Dr. McHugh opened the door to the waiting room for his young patient. Billy thought a half hour was par for the course, but then, he probably had to lecture her on making better choices. He wondered what Aaron might have given her... please, God, let it not be AIDS! It's probably just a dose of clap. But Dr. McHugh was beaconing to him! "May I speak with you in my office Mr. Travis?" As Tabatha sat down heavily in front of the waiting room TV Billy got up to follow Dr. McHugh. He gave his daughter a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder as he passed her and she had looked up at him apologetically. "Sorry, Dad," she whispered. Harlan McHugh showed him into his office. This did not look like any examination room he had ever been in. Then Billy noticed that Dr. McHugh was wearing an expensive wool suit and no lab coat. The doctor sat in a chair next to the couch rather than behind his desk. Tabatha had a poster over her bed of an ice skater, a handsome young man with a dark, neatly trimmed goatee, Rudy something. Her boyfriend had given it to her. This doctor looked like he could be that skater's father. A framed diploma or certificate on the wall behind his handsome head caught Billy's eye. Huh? This doctor was no gynecologist. He was a psychiatrist! Billy was dumbfounded. Suddenly the doctor's neat, gray goatee looked threatening in a Freudian way. The distinguished doctor of course did not fail to notice Billy's object of attention and reaction. He perched his old fashioned reading glasses on his nose, the half-moon type with thin tortoise-shell bottom rims and earpieces, as he settled comfortably against the back of the chair. His hands hung loosely from the ends of the chair's armrests. When Billy's eyes dropped down to look at him, he met his gaze and smiled pensively. "Mr. Travis -- may I call you Bill?" he actually paused a moment to look for even a subtle change in Bill's body language at his request for familiar informality. Seeing a tacit approval, he went on. "Feel free to call me Harlan, by the way. Now, concerning your daughter I have good news and I have bad news." McHugh liked to put his patients on familiar ground with well-worn formulas and phrases. Billy had not said a word, but clearly was waiting for McHugh to continue. "The good news is that your daughter does not have an STD. As an MD, my nurse and I did in fact perform a pelvic exam and also examined ears, nose and throat. The nurse checked her blood pressure and temperature, all perfectly normal. I talked with Tabatha about her sexual history, checking her general knowledge, experience, and attitudes. While she is quite knowledgeable on the subject she claims no actual experience beyond a few kisses and a game of show and tell. Her hymen is intact, which supports her claim. Her past and present method of safe sex is abstinence; not always reliable but one hundred percent effective when used correctly." Billy was simultaneously relieved and embarrassed. Good. Dr. McHugh went on. "The bad news is that she is not an angel. She is about as duplicitous and deceptive as the average teenage girl I see these days. She told you a lie in order to get you in here to see me. You are the one I'm scheduled to see this morning, not her." He watched his reaction caref