Joan's Room Chapters 5 And 6 free porn video

Chapter 5 One Thing Leads to Another Darla and Aunt Vivian stayed well into the evening. It seemed that Mom and Aunt Viv were establishing a real friendship. I was beyond happy for her. Aunt Alice is a wonderful person, but Mom was definitely in need of a new perspective. I also figured their friendship would benefit me, somehow. I actually found myself asking permission to bring Darla up to my room. Mom looked at me rather strangely when I did so, but gave her nod of approval. We sat on my bed and spent the next hour planning a makeover for "Joan's" room. Darla suggested that since there was a fair amount of "pink" left that I should use it. I considered her proposal for a minute, but decided that it would be overkill. She ran back downstairs and returned with her mother's camera. "Come on Joan, let's get these pictures on the net!" I smiled at her as she expertly downloaded the pictures onto my computer. There was one pic of me and Mom looking like twins standing in front of the forest scene with the pink wall behind us. I smiled as I thought that would be the "perfect" picture to send to my father. I doubted that he'd get the significance. Hell, he hadn't even emailed me. I finally decided that maybe, at some future date, I would send it to him. Still, I wasn't going to do that without Mom's permission. I knew she'd never approve. We emailed a few of the photos to Sally and Sam. Of course, Darla wanted to send a few to Sarah as well. I begged her not to and she finally relented. I still didn't understand Darla's attraction to her. "Where's Danielle this evening?" I asked her. "Oh, Dani went out on a date tonight." It seems Darla and Dani met some guys on the beach the other day and one of them had asked her out. Aunt Vivian had given her the go ahead as long as she was home by eleven o'clock. "You mean those guys weren't interested in you?" I asked her not quite believing that was possible. She laughed as she told me she didn't date boys. We talked a while longer and made tentative plans to get together on Sunday. Just as we were headed back down stairs, Aunt Viv's voice rang out telling Darla that it was indeed time to go home. Mom and I thanked them again for all of their help and bade them goodnight. While I tidied up the living room, Mom went to the kitchen to make us some hot chocolate. For me, hot chocolate was a winter time favorite, but Mom could drink the stuff anytime. We sat on the couch and Mom started talking about the new room. "You know the first thought that entered my mind when I saw my sewing machine?" she asked. I had an idea, but I wasn't going to announce it to her. This was her story and I'd let her tell it at her own pace. Finally, she did. "I was thinking of the last thing I ever made with it: your green velvet jeans. I was probably as upset about them as I was at seeing my machine all cleaned up and ready for use. I felt an overwhelming sense of loss that day. You were only eight at the time, but you always took such an interest when I'd sit down to sew. Somewhere in the back of my mind I was planning the day when we could share that joy together. I guess, in a sense, you've found a bit of that joy in your wood working." I knew exactly what she was talking about. The thrill of making something out of "whole cloth" or wood for that matter was truly a joyous one. I was hoping she would teach me the skills that she possessed. I was ready to learn. "Yes Joan, your father is indeed gone. Seeing the room the way it is now just made that fact a little clearer for me. Probably a bit more clear than I was ready to deal with." "Do you remember when your father and I found you sitting on the floor crying while you cut your pants to shreds?" I remembered the scene clearly, but I didn't remember their reactions at the time. It seems that my father was thrilled to find me shredding those "sissy" jeans. And Mom, she was devastated by my actions. I began to get the feeling that that was the beginning of the rift that pulled my parents apart. Still, it couldn't have been something so simple, could it? "Yes Mom, I'll never forget that day. I'm not sure if this will make any sense to you, but I loved those jeans. And then, everyone was laughing at me. Not laughing with me, they simply seemed intent on causing me pain. They succeeded. But, that was a long time ago." "Still, I don't think I want another pair of green velvet jeans," I said and laughed. Mom joined me in that and agreed that such jeans were hardly what one would call fashionable. "Still Joan, you are going to need some new clothes. I was thinking maybe we could get a pattern and make some skorts for you. Would you like that?" By way of an answer I hugged her tight. "You know what else this room needs?" she asked rhetorically. "It needs a rocking chair and a floor lamp. They'd look perfect in that corner," she said and pointed to the corner where all the picture taking had gone on a short while ago. I smiled at her by way of agreement, bade her goodnight and made my way to bed. Saturday morning arrived and I was up early. I had a fair amount of my work done by the time nine o'clock rolled around. I got out my bike and made my way to the bank. I wouldn't be depositing as much as I'd hoped in my account, still forty dollars was better than nothing. The teller smiled at me as she handed me my receipt. I was so proud of the work that I'd done that I decided to bring a few pictures over to Mr. Hospin and tell him how it had all worked out. With that in mind, I pedaled home and dug out Mom's digital camera. Pictures taken, I removed the memory card and made my way to the drug store. They had one of those photo kiosks and I made a few prints. The pictures looked better than the actual room, I thought as I made my way back to the paint store. Mr. Hospin recognized me immediately and asked me what, if anything else, I needed. I smiled at him and removed the pictures from my purse. He held them gently in his hands and simply beamed at me. I noticed his eyes well up as he began speaking. "You know something kid?" he said to me. "I've been in this business for over forty years and no one has ever brought me pictures before. I have to say you've done a fantastic job here. Would you mind if I kept one of them? Oh, and have you ever thought about doing some painting to earn a few dollars?" Honestly, the thought had never occurred to me. Hell, painting was so easy to do, I just figured everyone did their own. "I may be able to line up some work for you if you're interested," he informed me. Maybe there was a way I could save as much as I'd hoped after all. I just stood there with a goofy grin on my face and wrote my name and phone number on the back of the picture he'd selected. I walked out of that store feeling like a million bucks. The money I'd spent on that bit of pink paint just might have been one of the best decisions I'd ever made. My pace quickened as I neared home. "Mom, I'm home!" I shouted as I came through the front door. I just couldn't resist uttering that. "What are you so excited about sweetheart?" Mom asked as she called me into the kitchen. I smiled at her and told her of my trip to the paint store. She seemed more than a bit surprised at Mr. Hospin's suggestion that I could make money painting. "But Joan? How would you know how much to charge? What about insurance? Suppose you mess up someone's room?" She continued on in that manner for a few minutes. I just let her rant. Sadly, I realized, all of her points had been good ones. My bubble had burst. Mom saw the look of despair on my face and offered up a plan of her own. "Look, I think maybe you can avoid any problems, but you'll have to charge about half what a professional painter would. It would still be a decent amount of change for you to jangle in your pockets." I wasn't sure I could snap out of my depression so quickly or easily. Hell, for all I knew I'd never hear from Mr. Hospin again anyway. Finally, I decided that none of it was worth worrying about. Mom couldn't believe the way I could just change gears from one moment to the next. "Are you ready for a trip to the fabric store?" she asked me. I told her that I was and we made our way out the door. I'd never seen Mom make a decision that quickly and act on it either; like mother, like daughter. I had a vague remembrance of the small shop. Bolts of fabric stuck out of every corner. What seemed like an endless sea of cabinets housed clothing patterns. A feeling of elation ran through me as I took it all in. Mom moved like a woman with a purpose. "You said you wanted more skorts, right?" Actually, that had been her suggestion but, I wasn't going to argue with her. She was right. She found a few patterns in my size and sought my approval. I couldn't tell the differences among them. Mom looked at me and laughed. "We'll just try this one then," she said selecting one of the three. I shrugged my shoulders and acquiesced to her knowledge. "What kind of fabric do you want for them?" she then asked. Ah! The major benefit of making one's own clothes. You could make them out of anything you wanted! "Is denim too difficult to work with?" I asked her not having a clue. "Not with my machine it isn't!" she informed me proudly. We selected some material and Mom chose a few blouse patterns for me. I was almost giggling by the time we made our way back to the car. "OK Joan, you're going to have to forgive me but I haven't made any garments in a long time. We can both figure it out together." The sly look on her face told me that this was her way of teaching me to do it myself. She needn't have bothered though. I was ready, willing, and anxious to learn. The day flew by rapidly. While Mom went to retrieve our dinner, I gave Sam a call. I couldn't put my finger on it, but he didn't seem overly pleased to hear from me. We talked for a while and he made no mention of us getting together. "What now?" I wondered to myself. "I know it's getting late, but would you like to do something this evening?" I asked him hopefully. He hemmed and hawed before telling me that he and some of the boys were going out for the evening. It shouldn't have bothered me, but it did. Hell, here it was a Saturday night and my "guy" didn't want to spend it with me. "Joan, I hope you understand? These guys are my teammates. It's important for us to do a little bonding." I didn't know how to respond. I felt like crying but I didn't give in to the urge. Screw you and the horse you road in on, I thought bitterly. Oh well, what could I do? "You go and have fun with your friends. I'll talk to you tomorrow," I said and hung up before he could make any kind of reply. Was I being unfair? Probably. Still, it was beginning to seem that "John and Samantha" spent a lot more time together than "Joan and Sam" did. OK, so I never really thought of Sam as Samantha. Mom came home with the cartons of chinese food. I had the kitchen table already set and we made short work of the food. At least I wouldn't have to worry about cleaning up the kitchen. I put the leftovers in the fridge and we made our way back to the sewing room. "What's wrong Joan?" Mom asked. How could she tell that something was wrong? I found myself blurting out the conversation that had taken place between me and Sam. "Sweetheart, don't you think you're being unfair?" Though posed as such, it was not a question. "You and Sam are taking different paths." I sighed audibly. "Mom, even if I was still pretending to be John, I'd still be here alone this evening. I'd have never made the team," I said dejectedly. "Is that what's bothering you Joan? We all have things that we excel in. I'd like to see Sam make a jewelry box or do such a professional painting job as you have. The skills you have mastered will help you all your life. What's baseball going to do for Sam ten years from now? All he'll have are memories." What Mom was saying made a lot of sense. Still, Sam had the fire in his belly and the ability to back it up. Maybe, just maybe he could make a career out of the sport. I thanked Mom for helping me get things straight in my head. "So, are you ready to try on our creation?" She asked. I was really amazed that it had been so easy. I took the skort from her hands. It looked good. "But Mom! It has no zipper and no pockets!" "The zipper would make this a much more difficult task. Don't worry about the pockets, I'll add them later. Just take off your pants and try it on. I want to see how it fits." I was excited and embarrassed at the same time. Still, I took off my pants and pulled the skort up my legs. The fit was perfect. "Mom, could you add some belt loops too?" I begged. She sighed and laughed simultaneously. "Yes Joan, we can add some belt loops. I hope you paid close attention," she added. "You're making the next one by yourself." "By myself?" I exclaimed. "You heard me right. I will assist you but, you're going to do all the work. That's enough though for one day. What do you say we watch some television for a bit?" It was ten o'clock on a Saturday night and now I was going to spend the rest of the evening watching the tube with Mom. I laughed aloud as I considered that I'd rather be shopping. We caught some lame romantic comedy on HBO and both of us had tears in our eyes at the required "Happy Ending." I hugged her tight and said simply, "Thanks Mom, thanks for everything." I said goodnight and made my way upstairs. It was after eleven thirty and time to turn in. I did a short pirouette in my new skort and smiled at my reflection. Everything was going to be all right, I thought as I fell asleep snuggled between the two bears. I awoke early yet again on Sunday morning. The dog seemed a bit confused for some reason. I think part of it was having access to the sewing room. Dad had never allowed Shandy into his hallowed hall. I smiled at her and made myself ready to meet the day. It didn't take long. I found that I just couldn't face the world without my face being properly made up anymore. I wondered why that was so even as I coated my lashes with mascara. A coat of mauve completed the task. I ate a quick breakfast of corn flakes. There were still no signs of life coming from Mom's room. Once in the sewing room, I practiced with the machine. I took tiny scraps and sewed them together. This was going to be easier than I thought. I got out the template and thought I'd give it a try on my own. A rule of carpentry came into play here as well. "Measure twice, cut once." Using the overly simplistic pattern, I made myself a matching skort. And here I thought I'd saved myself quite a bit of money buying clothes from the close out racks. I sat and compared skorts. The one that Mom had made was indistinguishable from the one that I'd made myself. In a lot of ways being a seamstress was similar to being a carpenter. Both jobs were equally satisfying. It was closing in on noon and I still heard no word from Mom's room. I slowly made my way upstairs and knocked on her door. "Mom, are you awake?" I asked hopefully. "Hmmph!" was her reply. Damn, I wish I could stop worrying so much. Of course she was OK. "Mom, it's almost noon. Are you getting up today?" I asked. "Sorry Joan, I'm really tired. I'll be down in a little bit. Why don't you go and practice your sewing?" I was going to wait till she got downstairs but, I decided that showing her my work now might help her awaken. "Look Mom!" I shouted. She appeared as though she might get angry but, she did as I requested. "See! I made this one by myself!" I held the garment out to her proudly. I finally had her attention. While she took hold of the skort I went and opened her shades. She examined it carefully. "Is there anything you can't do?" she said proudly. I smiled a wide smile of satisfaction. "Come on Mom! It is past time to get up!" She grunted and groaned as she tossed aside the covers and made her way to the bathroom. My work here was done. I went back downstairs and began cutting strips of cloth to make belt loops. It wasn't hard to figure out. I used my old jeans as a guide. Half an hour later I finished up the first skort. It was absolutely perfect. It was fast closing in on one p.m. and still no word from Sam. I was determined to wait until he called me. While I sat there staring at the phone, willing it to ring, it did! Only, it wasn't Sam calling. It was Darla. "Hey girlfriend," she said putting on some cool girl voice. I laughed and asked her what she wanted. She then asked me if I wanted to go to the beach with her and Dani. I thought about telling her no, that I was waiting for Sam's call and then I realized how pathetic that sounded. "How about if I meet you at the Ocean Boulevard entrance in an hour?" "Well, that's getting kind of late Joan," she whined. "I'll tell you what. Why don't you and Dani go ahead of me and I'll find you on the beach when I get there." Plans made, we said our goodbyes. I still moved about the house listening carefully for the phone. It didn't ring. I put on my red suit and found myself wondering just how hard it would be to make one. Checking out the spandex material, I thought that some things were just better purchased. I said my goodbyes to Mom and told her I'd be home by six thirty for dinner. I pulled my new skort on over my suit and a v necked tee for a top. I was ready to go. It took me a while, but I finally found Darla's blanket. "Hey Joan! Over here! Your friend is here," she said motioning to Sam. Sam and Billy were perched on a blanket nearby. I was heartbroken. Sam hadn't even called. I watched him watching me out of the corner of my eye. Finally he came over. He almost seemed annoyed at me. His look seemed to say, "How dare you come to the beach without me." "You want to go for a walk Joan?" he asked me. "Darla, did you hear something?" I asked her. After about a minute of that nonsense he made his way back to his own blanket. "I can't stay here," I said at last. "It's all right Joan, we'll move. Come on Dani, we're moving on!" she announced. I was half tempted to tell her to just stay. Still, I didn't want to go home and just feel sorry for myself. We walked along ocean's edge carrying our belongings till we came to the area near Webster Ave. "Does this work for you Joan?" she said as she surveyed our surroundings. I forced my best smile and told her it was fine. Danielle was about the quietest girl I'd ever met in my life. "So Dani? How did your date go?" I asked sincerely. "Darla! You told her, didn't you?" she accused. Darla looked at both of us in stunned silence. I sat there wondering just what it was that Darla was supposed to have told me. After a brief pause I simply said, "Dani, Darla didn't tell me anything. I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about." She examined my eyes carefully as if the truth was somewhere hidden deep within my green orbs. Finally she apologized to us both. "I had a great time," she said at last. "Chuck is really a nice kid. I thought maybe Darla had told you..." and her voice trailed off. "Told me what?" I insisted. "Come on Dani, you can't do that to me!" I said and laughed. "Well, we went for a ride in his car and parked and, you know?" "Wow! You went out with a guy old enough to drive?" I found that hard to believe. Dani didn't look any older than me or Darla. "Does Aunt Vivian know?" I had to ask. "No, and you're not going to tell her either," she said emphatically. I laughed as if she'd made a joke. Maybe I was being pushed around, but I didn't want it to seem that way to the two of them. "Dani, it's none of my business what you do," I said meaningfully. Was she trying to pick a fight with me? I wasn't about to sit there and start sharing sexual escapades with these two. Some things were just private. "Come on you two." This from Darla. "Let's go get our feet wet." We walked down to the water. I didn't even remove my skort or top. The only thing left on my blanket was the blanket itself. "I love your new skort Joan," Darla said. "Did you make it yourself?" she asked half joking. "As a matter of fact Darla, I did!" "Really!" she exclaimed her voice full of doubts. She slowly circled me and started pawing at the fabric. Finally she voiced her opinion. "You didn't make this." I laughed and told her insistently that I did. "Could you make one for me then?" she asked. "No Darla. But, I'll be happy to show you how to make one for yourself." Since Darla and I were virtually identical in size she could use the pattern that we already had. Danielle remained quiet throughout our exchange. "I'm pretty sure there's enough denim left over to make one more," I told her. "You know Joan, you could make it for me and consider it payback for helping you out with the painting?" she tried. I slowly removed the garment. "Here Darla. Just take it." I was half-surprised when she did. She stepped into the skort and pulled it up over her bathing suit. "Thanks Joan," she said and gave me a hug. In retrospect, I owed her for a lot more than just the painting help. She'd been beside me every step of the way. She danced around Dani and me shouting incoherently. Somehow, we all grabbed hands and danced round and round in circles as the waves nipped forcefully at our bare feet. Even Dani managed to smile. After a time we began walking back towards our belongings. "You know Darla, I really would be happy to show you how to make your own if you're interested," I said. As an afterthought I added, "You too Dani." They looked at each other and responded in unison, "Maybe." I let it go at that. The afternoon was winding down. I gathered up my blanket and bade the cousins goodbye. All the way home I found my thoughts drifting back to Sam. Were we drifting apart? Mom was busy at her sewing machine when I entered the house. Had I created a monster? She smiled at me and asked what happened to my skort. I told her about giving it to Darla. She then went on to praise her sweet daughter. It was getting a bit silly, but I was still concerned with her fragile state of mind. I began blaming myself for what had happened with Sam that afternoon. I should have gone on that walk with him. I began to wonder about Billy and Sam. Was I really that insecure? Mom brought me back to the real world when she asked, "What would you like for dinner?" I didn't really care and told her so. She shrugged her shoulders and made her way into the kitchen to begin preparations. I decided that I wasn't going to let things fester with Sam. I made my way up to my room and dialed his number. "Sam, I want to apologize," I began when he picked up the phone. "I guess I should have talked to you earlier on the beach, but I was upset that you hadn't called me. Then, to find you there with Billy..." "You were there with Darla, Joan," he reminded me. "Only because I wasn't going to sit at home all day waiting for you to call. It's a good thing I didn't cause you weren't home," I said with accusation in my voice. He paused for a moment to let that sink in. I'd always thought Sam was smarter than me. Now I was beginning to wonder if there was anything in his head besides rocks. "You're right Joan, I'm sorry," he said at last. "It's just that me and the guys got all involved last night and then Billy asked if I wanted to go to the beach with him today... I just forgot all about us." His IQ dropped several points in my estimation with that last comment. Still, it was a plausible explanation of sorts. Was I making excuses for his behavior? I knew it was the wrong thing to say, but I couldn't help myself. "There's no need to apologize Sam. We don't own each other," I said petulantly. "We don't?" he said with a lump in his throat. Sighs!... What was wrong with me? What was I hoping to accomplish? I didn't want "property of Sam" tattooed on my buttocks but, I guess in a sense we did belong to one another. "That's not what I meant Sam. Well, maybe it is, but I didn't mean it," I said with much confusion in my voice. "Still, we aren't sewn together at the hip. You want to spend time with Billy and the guys, I have no problem with that. Just let me know what's going on." I'd taken the high road. "I will. I promise Joan," he said solemnly. "Besides, you never called me Friday night to let me know how things turned out with your Mom and the sewing room." He had me there. I had indeed promised to call him. Perhaps this was all my fault? No, that couldn't be right. We did talk on Saturday after all. This was all getting a bit confusing. "Truce?" I offered. "Truce," he accepted. We said our goodbyes without making any plans for the evening. I went downstairs to see what Mom had in store for dinner. "I thought we'd have the left over Chinese," she said before I could ask. "I also made us some salads." The table was set. There was nothing for me to do but sit down and eat. I took my seat and Mom placed the food before me. It felt good having a lazy day such as this one. Mom began chattering away about the new drapes she was going to make for the living room and dining room. I was happy to see her excited about life again. Dinner finished, I cleaned up the plates and put them in the dishwasher. I was at a loss as to how to spend the evening. I needn't have worried. Just as I was going to sit down, Sam knocked on the door. He didn't just come barging in as he usually did. His hands were held suggestively behind his back. "What are you hiding Sam?" I asked in sing-song voice. He did his best imitation of a magician and produced a dozen red roses as if out of thin air. I literally gasped. "Oh Sam! They're beautiful!" Maybe it was because I hadn't cried all weekend, but tears began flowing like a river down my cheeks. Sam wrapped his arms around me; the roses still held safely in his hand. Their scent was just inches away. I closed my eyes and became lost in the moment. He really did love me. "So, how's the best pitcher county's ever had doing this evening?" I asked him. He shush'd me and held me tighter. "All of my accomplishments mean nothing without you by my side," he whispered. We spent the rest of the evening holding hands. We walked and talked, hugged and cuddled. Yes, there was a fair amount of kissing involved too. I resolved never to fight with him again... Chapter 6 Who Do You Trust? Monday's work passed uneventfully. I had become a sander first class. Mr. Ferris promised to teach me the proper staining method soon. I knew it was important work, but I'd be more than happy to get that sanding block out of my hands. Still, the day passed quickly. I checked the answering machine when I got home, but there were no messages for me. Was Mr. Hospin just being kind with his suggestion? I thought that maybe I could scout up some work on my own. I could see myself making too much money and Mom asking me for rent. I laughed at the thought. And now, the 4th of July was just one week away. And Sam's game was on Saturday. I really wanted to be there to root for him, but I was not too keen on encountering Billy again. I gave Darla a call and asked her if she'd like to accompany me to the opening game. "I don't know? Baseball? Sounds kind of boring Joan," she said. "But Darla, it's Sam's first pitching appearance. Don't you think it would be a nice gesture to come and urge him on?" I asked grasping at straws. She laughed into the phone and told me I was "reaching" with that last statement. "OK Joan, I'll go with you. But you're going to have to wear a skirt," she said and laughed. Why would she care what I wore to a baseball game? What possible difference could it make? Was she trying to humiliate me? Trying to get me to do some disconnect between the game and real life or simply having me on? I honestly hadn't a clue. "I can't begin to imagine why my wearing a skirt would make a difference, but if that's what it takes, I'm your girl," I said with forced laughter. "Do you think Dani would want to come too?" I asked figuring the more the merrier. I could hear her shout in the distance and then came back to me with a resounding "no" on that point. "But, Sally might want to come with us," she said. Sally, there was something I was supposed to do... Oh no! I'd forgotten to pay her back the three dollars from the dance. She must think me some kind of mooch. "Darla, when you call her up please tell her I'm sorry about not repaying the three dollars that she loaned me." It was only three bucks, but I felt guilty as hell. Well, I'd make it up to her for sure. Darla laughed and told me she was sure that Sally wasn't worried about the money. That eased my conscience a bit, but I was going to make it right. She then asked me if I'd started work on her mother's jewelry box. Whoops! I guess I was becoming a bit overextended. I told her I hadn't yet, but it would be finished in two weeks' time. That seemed to calm her down. "Joan? Where are they playing and how are we going to get there?" I hadn't even considered that. I'd have to check with Sam and get all the details. I hoped she wouldn't mind that Darla was going to come too. I certainly didn't want to go and sit alone in the stands. Maybe Aunt Alice was going to come? I hadn't a clue. "I honestly don't know Darla. But, I'll check that all out and make sure we have transportation both ways. Does that work for you?" She told me it did and asked me to provide the details when I next called. We said our goodbyes and I made my way into the kitchen to prepare dinner. Mom arrived home and we ate in silence. Even the dog didn't raise a fuss when I let her in to clean up. I began to wonder what, if anything was wrong. "Mom, are you all right?" I had to ask. She sighed aloud. "It's about your father, he emailed me at work. He wants you to write to him," she said and let it drop like a bomb expertly aimed at its target below. So, he wanted me to write to him. Part of me was worried, part elated, and yet the most important emotion I felt was anger. "Did he say what it was about?" I had to ask. "No Joan, he didn't," she said with a bit of fear in her own voice. "Don't worry about it Mom," I said. "Nothing is ever going to keep us apart." I did love my Dad, but in the end anger won out. "I will email him. I think I know just what I want to say." I smiled at my evil thoughts. I was going to send him that picture of me and Mom in his former office and ask him if he liked the way I'd redecorated the room. No, I wasn't going to ask permission. However mad Mom might be at Dad, she'd never have permitted it. Mom couldn't shake the worried look from her face. She removed his email address from her purse and handed it to me. "Just be careful what you say to him Joan. He is a high-powered attorney after all." Great. Just what I needed to hear. No, I decided finally. This would be handled my way: consequences be damned! I finished cleaning up and asked Mom if she'd like to do anything for the evening. She suggested that we take a trip to the Home Depot and check out the full length mirrors for the door. I smiled at her and agreed that it would be a great idea. I needed to check out the wood and maybe a few other things as well. Once in the car, we traveled in silence. Had we run out of things to say to one another? I think we were both fretting about the possible repercussions from Dad's email. If he was going to go, why didn't he just stay gone? We arrived at the super-sized hardware store. Mom asked me if I felt like tackling a bathroom makeover. I hoped she was kidding. Still, the look in her eyes told me she was toying with the idea. "Mom, we can't afford it right now," I said responsibly and we made our way to the selection of mirrors. The choices ran the full gamut. From cheap, tiny rectangular ones covered in plywood frame to more intricate ones with beveled design. Mom smiled at me as she placed the expensive mirror in our cart. "Now that's a mirror I can ask questions of!" I exclaimed and began: "Mirror mirror on the wall," I said earnestly. Mom broke into a fit of giggles as I'd hoped. "Did I say something funny?" I asked innocently. She smiled again and we continued on. She watched me carefully as I examined the selection of woods available. The selection of oak boards wasn't exactly choice, but I managed to find a few that would suit the task. We made our way through the hardware section and I selected appropriate screws and glue to complete the job. Mom eyed me suspiciously. "Don't worry Mom. Just save the receipt and I'll reimburse you for the materials." Why she hugged me at that moment, I'll never know; but she did. As we made our way to the cash register we passed through the paint department. "Oh look Joan! They have the same paint you used in the sewing room. I'll tell you what? I'll buy one gallon of the pink and you can paint your bedroom. If you need more, well there's half a can waiting at home." How did she know I planned on repainting my room? I cringed as I noticed the price of the paint was three dollars less per gallon for the same exact paint as it was at Hospin's. Still, I felt honor bound to buy the paint from him. He'd helped me more than they ever would at this faceless emporium. "Mom, thanks for the offer. I'm going to take you up on it. But, I won't buy paint here. Mr. Hospin deserves our business," I said with utter determination in my voice. Mom smiled at me and though she knew the costs were higher in the small store, she praised my loyalty. "It's alright Joan, I understand. Just pick up the paint that you need and I'll reimburse you," she said and laughed. Were we going to have a war of receipts? I laughed with her. We finally made our way through the queue and headed back home. The mood had lightened. I was still worried about what I was going to say to "Dad" but I didn't let it overwhelm me. "OK, daughter of mine, first things first. Go and get whatever tools you need and put that mirror up!" How had I become Ms. Fixit? Thankfully, the mirror had come with everything needed to install it properly. I made my way to the basement and returned with the hand drill and some screw drivers. Piece of cake, I thought as I asked her at what height she wanted the mirror. The mirror in place, the room looked 100% better. It had been the right move to get the oval shaped beveled glass. It set the room off perfectly. "OK Mom, do you need anything else?" I asked her. I was anxious to get started on my letter to Dad. "No Joan, you go and do what you have to," she said and eyed me knowingly. She knew that I was anxious to write to Dad. I decided to email her a copy of same as well. I didn't want there to be any secrets between us. I hoped she appreciated my openness and honesty. I made my way up to my room turned on my computer and clicked open my hotmail account. I sat there for several minutes before typing a word. Should I be cold and distant? Should I beg him to come home? Should I chastise him for abandoning me the way he did? What should I do? Dear Dad, I hope that everything is fine with you. Mom and I miss you here. I've got a summer job working for Mr. Ferris. He's the shop teacher at school. It seems I have an innate talent for wood working. Perhaps I inherited that from your side of the family? Sorry, but I don't know what else to say. I'm going to include a picture of me and Mom. You see we had this empty room in the house and I made it into a special place for the both of us to enjoy. I hope you like the pic. I miss you Dad. Your loving daughter, Joan... It wasn't as hard hitting as I'd wanted it to be. Still, I hoped he'd get the message. Mom and I were fine and thriving in his absence. I was far angrier than I'd ever realized. And yes, I added the daughter/Joan bit at the end to taunt him. Still, when he saw the picture of me and my twin (Mom) well, he'd get the idea anyway. I also hoped in a way that seeing me as I now was would cause him to just leave us alone for good. He'd had his chance. I honestly had nothing to say to the man. Yet, I told him I missed him, I told him I loved him. What was wrong with me? I added Mom's addy in the address line and clicked send. I hoped she wouldn't be angry with me. It seems Mom had been waiting hopefully. She came into my room, wrapped her arms around me and began weeping. "I just finished reading your email Joan," she said solemnly. "Thank you for the kind words. I hope it wasn't a mistake." Her last statement had my stomach in knots. Still there wasn't anything I could do about it now. The letter was beyond my control. It was off into cyberspace and into the hands of my father. Why was I so worried? God, I hoped he'd just leave us alone. I held Mom tight and assured her that everything was going to be just fine. Dad would surely leave us alone after seeing that picture of us together. She laughed when I said that and told me that she hoped I was right. Hell, I hoped I was right too. How had all of this happened? I bade Mom goodnight and made a quick call to Sam before calling it a day. I asked where and when his game was and if he had any idea just how I might get there. He told me it was going to be at Rogers' Stadium in Orrinville and if I liked, his mother would give me a ride. I explained that Darla was surely coming and that Sally might want to come too. He seemed a bit put out but guessed that Aunt Alice would drive us all. I decided to speak with Aunt Alice directly come tomorrow. We said our goodnights and I kissed him sexily through the phone line. "Goodnight my love," I whispered into the line. I carried one of the boards with me to work on Tuesday. It was almost as long as my bike itself. It was a bit difficult steering with one hand and holding the board with the other. Still, I managed to make it to the shop intact. "What have you got there?" asked Mr. Ferris upon my arrival. I told him of my promise to build a jewelry box for Aunt Vivian. He told me that I could work on it after my sanding chores were completed. I thanked him and set about sanding. Soon, it was 2:30 and time to get started on Aunt Viv's jewelry box. Remembering that this one was to be twice the size as the others, I made note of the required dimensions. I decided that I'd put her hidden compartment as part of a false back. At only an inch in depth, it would still have room for jewelry and correspondence. I hoped Aunt Viv appreciated my efforts. At 3:30 I'd had enough and bade Paul and Mr. Ferris farewell. Sarah was standing at the foot of her driveway as I began to pedal away. Had she been waiting for me to pass by? I was getting paranoid. Besides, what the heck was I afraid of? Still, I didn't want to fight with anybody. I arrived home and fell into my new routine: take care of the dog, get dinner started and get moving on the housework. It almost seemed automatic. By the time Mom arrived home I'd accomplished quite a bit. "Hi Mom!" I greeted her as she came in the door. "How was your day?" I asked and brought her a gin and tonic and an ashtray. "Joan," she said a bit worriedly. "I got another email from your father today." Had he written to me as well? I hadn't been online to check my email. "And?" I asked. "And he's going to call you this evening," she said simply. A feeling of terror overwhelmed me. What did he want? Why didn't he just leave us alone. Had I secretly been taunting him, hoping that he'd make contact? My heart came up into my throat. "Did he say what it was about?" I had to ask. "Not a word darling," she informed me. How could I get him to go away? What could I say to him that would make him cease and desist? I could spend the rest of the evening worrying about his call, or I could simply forget about it and play it by ear. I decided to check my computer first and see if he'd replied to my email. Still, that would have to wait until dinner was over. I did my best to make small talk with Mom as we ate. I told her about Sam's pitching appearance on Saturday and found myself asking her if she'd like to come along. "You mean you really want your mother coming with you to a baseball game?" she asked. "Well, it's not like I'll be playing," I replied and laughed sardonically. What would it be like to sit in the stands and watch people I knew play baseball? It was one thing to watch the professionals play. But, to be there watching Sam... I wasn't sure how I felt about it. Still, girls didn't play on the county team, did they? "Would you like to come or not?" I asked. "Aunt Alice is bringing me and Darla. Sally might be coming too." "Well, I'm not going to invite myself. But, I will talk to Alice about it later and see what she thinks. It would be kinda neat watching Sam take the pitcher's mound." She said this last with a warm smile on her face. I found myself thinking that if I'd been the batter, that she'd be rooting for Sam to strike me out. Maybe I was wrong on that count. I honestly wasn't sure. We sat at the table for a long time. We kept talking as I cleared away the table and put the room back in order. Finally, the phone rang. My blood ran cold. I began shaking slightly as Mom answered it. It was Dad and he wanted to speak to me. I felt like screaming: "Tell him I don't want to talk to him." I never did get a chance to check my email account. At that point, I had no idea whether or not he'd replied. Mom handed me the phone. "John, are you there?" his concerned voice asked. I felt like ignoring him totally. Who was this "John" character anyway? "It's me," I replied simply. I figured my reply would neither acknowledge "John" nor do any disservice to who I really was. "I'm sorry for the way I left John," he continued. Too little, too late I thought bitterly. "I love what you've done with my office," he went on. I felt a surge of pride flowing through my veins. Maybe this relationship was salvageable after all? "But John, we have to talk." I thought that's what we were doing? Sadly, I knew he meant something a bit more formal. "Fine Dad. When are you coming up?" I asked - my voice rock-steady. "Well John, I can't get away right now. But, I've made an appointment for you with Dr. Wintergarden. Your mother knows all about it. She's agreed to take you to see him." A doctor? What did I need with a doctor? I wasn't sick. I said as much to him. "Joan, you really need to see the doctor." So now he was calling me Joan. Yes, I got his point, but that didn't mean I had to like it. "Well Dad, I'm kind of busy myself these days. I don't get home from work before 3:30 PM on any given afternoon," I said stretching the truth just a tad. "John, this topic isn't open for discussion. You are going to see Dr. Wintergarden and that's that," he said with finality. I didn't even say goodbye to him. I handed the phone to my mother and ran upstairs. Maybe sending him that picture hadn't been such a good idea after all. A few tears welled up and attempted escape but I kept them at bay. It was closing in on eight o'clock but I found myself in the bathroom washing my face. I put on my makeup and started to feel a bit better. Back in my room I painted my nails with the blue thunder polish. I even did my toes. I really needed a pair of open toed sandals. I was finally finished when Mom came walking into my room. She looked distraught. "Oh Joan, I'm so sorry." Tears began flowing from her eyes. I was the one that should be upset but here I found myself yet again comforting my mother. I guess in a way that made things easier to deal with. "It's all right Mom. We'll find a way to get this sorted out." "You really are a beautiful girl," she said to me and beamed. How was I going to work my way through this maze? I knew the only logical thing to do was to talk to someone that knew what was what and just might know what to expect from this "Dr. Wintergarden." "Mom, I think we need to talk to Aunt Vivian," I said with conviction. "Oh Joan! What a great idea. Why didn't I think of that?" I dialed Darla's number as Mom sat on my bed patiently. "What do you want Joan?" Darla asked as she picked up. Gee, why did she have to answer like that? "Sorry Darla, am I interrupting something?" I said in an attempt to mollify her. "Darla, I really need to speak with your mother," I said getting down to business. I could hear her in the distance. "Mom, it's Joan. She says she needs to talk to you." "Just a minute Joan, she'll be right with you. You want to tell me what this is all about?" she asked. I told her we could talk about it later, but I just needed to talk to Aunt Vivian at the moment. I sent Mom downstairs so she could listen in on the extension. "Joan? Darla said you sounded a bit upset. Is everything all right?" I sighed and relayed the conversation that I'd had with my father a short time ago. She remained silent and waited for me to continue. I skipped all the preliminaries and went right to the heart of the matter. "Do you know a Dr. Wintergarden?" I asked "Why?" she asked cautiously. I explained the rest of what had happened on the phone with my Dad and told her of my forced appointment. I could hear my mother breathing heavily into the extension on the line below. "Joan, I don't think you want to keep that appointment," she said with serious concern in her voice. I begged her to explain further, but she wouldn't budge. "Don't get all worked up over nothing sweetheart. I told you that I'm a licensed therapist. I'll be more than happy to prepare a written evaluation for your father. It will surely satisfy him and any court he'd care to present it to. Now, you stop worrying and let me talk to your mother." Tears of joy and relief escaped me. I thanked her profusely and Mom announced that she was already there, I hung up the phone and collapsed face down on my bed. I was certain that Aunt Vivian would be an ally, not a hindrance in my goal to become Joan. I decided that this was going to be the best jewelry box I'd ever made. The sobs continued as I checked my email. There was nothing from Dad. I went again and checked some of the transgender websites. I was more angry and disappointed in my Dad than I thought humanly possible. I put some soft music on and slowly rocked myself to sleep.