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=== Wanderer and Homebody === by Trismegistus Shandy This story is set, with Morpheus's kind permission, in his Twisted universe. It is a sequel to my earlier story "Twisted Throwback," but though it contains some characters from that story, I think it stands alone pretty well. Thanks to Morpheus for his feedback on the rough draft. This story is released under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License. You may repost it on other sites, for instance, or write new stories based on it, as long as you give me credit and release your own stories under the same license. ----- I'd been hiking through the highlands of Papua New Guinea for several weeks, stopping here and there for a few days to get to know people and learn their language. I'd been staying in one village for three days, picking up a decent working knowledge of Wogamusin; the itch to travel was getting stronger, but I thought I'd resist it for a day or two more -- until I had a larger vocabulary and a stronger grasp of the verb system. But then my sat phone rang in the middle of the night. It was an emergency tone; at that time of night the call would have gone to voicemail if it weren't from one of the small set of people who have the right to interrupt me any time. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and answered it, too bleary yet to read the caller ID. "Hello?" "Jack, it's Mindy. Tim has -- gone through a Twist. You promised you'd come if -- when -- it happened..." "I'll be there." ----- But getting from the PNG highlands to Austin, Texas -- where my ex lives with our son, her new hubby and his kids by his previous -- isn't a short trip no matter how you hurry it. Just getting to the nearest international airport, at Port Moresby, took me most of the following day, and then the next flight I could use wasn't for several hours. Then I had a three-hour flight to Brisbane and a four-hour layover before I could get on a plane to Houston. By the time I got to Austin, I'd gotten several worrying messages from Mindy, one brief one from Tim, and one (more reassuring) from my niece Emily, who said she was flying out to Austin to help Tim with his Twist. She'd get there way ahead of me, having a much shorter distance to travel; fortunately Tim's Twist happened during Emily's spring break. Emily offered to pick me up at the airport, but I declined; I wanted to rent a car to use while I was in town. "You know how I am," I said, "if I get wanderlusty in the middle of the night I don't want to depend on somebody else for a ride." Actually, once the crisis with Tim was over, and it looked like I was overstaying my welcome with Mindy and her new guy Steve, I'd probably end up buying a used car and traveling around the States for a while. But I didn't want to waste time car shopping when Tim needed his dad. I called Mindy again when I'd finished signing for the car. "I'll be there in about half an hour." "We're almost finished eating supper," she apologized, "I wasn't sure how long you'd take... I can reheat some leftovers when you get here." "Maybe, or I can eat on the way. Don't sweat it." "Actually... I think Tim would like you to eat here." "...I'll save my appetite, then." I'd heard partial accounts of Tim's Twist in those messages, but I didn't get a clear picture of it until I'd been in Austin for a couple of days. Maybe it seems coy or disingenuous, but I think it makes sense to show you how I saw Tim for myself, as though I'd heard hardly anything about his Twist ahead of time, instead of filtering your perceptions through Mindy's and Emily's, the way mine were filtered. Traffic was light and I made good time. I sent Mindy a heads-up message while I was sitting at a stop light near the house, and minutes later I parked on the east side of the driveway. I saw another rental car, probably Emily's, and one I recognized as Mindy's; the other one must be Steve's. A few moments after I rang the bell, a girl opened the door. She looked about fourteen years old, as indeed she was, with shoulder-length light brown hair done up in a ponytail, and blue eyes, wearing a yellow housedress with a blue apron. I recognized her from a photo Mindy had sent me. "Tim?" "Hi, Daddy," she said, looking shy -- as though she weren't sure I would approve of her. I couldn't let her doubt that for a moment longer; I enfolded her in a hug. "It's so good to see you, Tim. I'll always be proud to be your dad." Then I remembered how she'd addressed me, and added: "Or your daddy." "It's okay if I call you that?" "It's okay, Tim. Um -- last I heard you hadn't picked a new name?" "No, I'm still thinking about it. Emily says I should be sure it's the right one." "Your cousin's a smart girl, you should listen to her." "Come on in, Jack." Mindy stood in the doorway to the kitchen, and didn't move any closer as Tim moved aside to let me into the living room, then closed the door behind me. "Tim's kept a plate hot for you." "And I didn't put the cake in the oven until after you left the airport," Tim added. "It's apple walnut cake." "Your grandma's recipe?" "Yes. I messaged her and asked her for it, when I found out when you were going to get here. Mom and Emily helped, but I did most of it." So was Tim's interest in cooking new in the last three days, or something he'd picked up in the months since I'd seen him at Christmas, before his Twist? I wanted to ask, but I didn't want my priorities to look weird; I decided to save it for later. I just said: "Sounds delicious," and followed them into the kitchen. Tim took charge, heating up a plate and setting it on the table with a set of silverware. "Do you want sweet tea?" she asked. "You know me well," I agreed. She poured a glass and set it next to the plate, and I sat down, more than half expecting her to sit down with me; but instead she went to work putting dishes from the sink into the dishwasher. "I'm almost done with this," she said. "Tim, do try to sit down and talk with your father when you're done with that," Mindy said. From what she'd said, and more from Emily's latest message, I'd gathered that Tim had some compulsions since her Twist, and I realized I was seeing one of them now. "We can talk while she works, if it makes her feel more comfortable," I said, and then realized I'd just used female pronouns for Tim. Would Tim like that? Safer to stick to second-person pronouns until I was sure... "Or -- you can do the talking at first, Tim, since your mom won't want me talking with my mouth full." Mindy gave the ghost of a smile. "So, um, I guess you want to know about my Twist?" Tim said, looking over her shoulder as she loaded the dishes. "I turned into a girl, and I care a lot about keeping things neat and clean and organized. Um. That's about it. I still like collecting arthropods but I've been too busy to go out looking for more. And I'd like to keep playing soccer, for a girls' team I guess, but I'm not sure they'll want me since I'm Twisted. I'm too busy right now anyway, but I'd like to play again, maybe with kids who are just playing for fun and not competing in tournaments..." I'd been hearing TV noises, and occasional loud comments, from the den; I inferred that Mindy's husband Steve and her stepson Craig were in there watching something, possibly a basketball game. Just then I heard the muffled sound of rushing water, and the door of the hall bathroom opened; Emily came out. "Uncle Jack!" she exclaimed, coming into the kitchen. "I won't hug you while your mouth's full and my hands are wet. -- We need a clean hand towel in the hall bathroom, Aunt Mindy; where do you keep them?" "In the hall closet, on the lower left shelf," Mindy started to say, and Tim said: "I'll take care of it," stowing a plate in the dishwasher and then heading toward the hall. "Nuh-uh," Emily said. "You sit down and visit with your dad, I can find the towels." Tim looked torn, and I said: "I won't be offended if you go and do housework while I'm eating supper. But -- just something to think about -- you won't know how strong your compulsions really are unless you try to resist them sometimes." "The house will still get clean if you let other people do some of the work," Emily said. "Sit." "Okay," Tim said, and sat down next to me. "Where's your sister? Watching the game in yonder with the boys...?" Lisa was Steve's daughter, and just a few months older than Tim. They got along pretty well, or such had been my impression when I'd seen them together. "Sleepover at a friend's house," Mindy volunteered. Tim was fidgeting with the stuff in the center of the table, scooting the napkin holder, salt shaker and so forth this way and that until they were symmetrically aligned. I was getting worried about him. About her. Over and above whatever gender confusion Tim might be feeling, a compulsion like that could be crippling if Tim couldn't find a workaround for it. "What did the doctors say about you?" I asked. "Um, our family doctor said I'm a real girl with all the girl parts." Her tone was matter-of-fact; maybe slightly embarrassed, but not more than I'd expect any girl to be when talking about a medical exam with her father. "But I haven't seen a Twist doctor yet." "There aren't any Twist specialists in Austin," Mindy put in apologetically. "I was going to take her to the clinic in Dallas, but it's such a long drive and Steve or I will have to take the day off work..." "I can do it," I said. "Would you? Thanks. We have a tentative appointment for Friday at one. My boss approved me taking the day off, but he'll be even more pleased if I don't have to." "I hope I can get things straightened out by Friday," Tim said. "Would it be okay if I work on some stuff while we visit, the next few days? I need to wash all the windows on the other three sides of the house -- I did the front ones today -- and I need to finish organizing the cabinets and closets, and clean the den and the other bedrooms besides mine... If I can do all that by Friday I think I'll be okay to go to Dallas for the day." "I'll help," Emily said, returning from her towel-mission. "I'll help out too, with whatever you need -- washing the outside windows, maybe?" "Thanks, Daddy." She smiled back at me; but I noticed that Mindy was biting her lip. "What's up?" I asked her. "It's just... when Steve came home and saw Tim washing the front windows, he told her to stop, and he'd wash the rest of the outside windows himself; she could do the inside ones if she wanted. But he won't have time until Saturday." "Steve needs to learn to accommodate his stepdaughter's Twist," I said, with a glance at the hallway and the den; but the TV was still loud enough they couldn't hear us in there. "Tim, if you feel like you can't go anywhere unless you're easy in your mind about the house being in order... is that what you're saying?" "Yeah." "Then we'll try our hardest to make sure the house is in order by Friday, or if necessary, we'll postpone your clinic appointment until it is. But maybe you should try resisting that compulsion sometimes. Maybe not with a seven or eight hour trip to Dallas, not at first, but we could try going out for lunch tomorrow during a break from cleaning?" She twitched. "I... I'd rather not, Daddy. I... got kind of weird when we went out yesterday." She glanced at her mom, and Mindy said: "Not long after Emily got here we took Tim clothes shopping. But she got so anxious about the state of the house that we had to come home early, we hardly had time to buy anything." I involuntarily sucked in a breath. That was bad. "Well," I said, "let's get this place clean, shall we?" I started to push away my plate, which I'd about finished with, but on second thought I picked it up and walked toward the dishwasher with it. I glanced aside at Tim; would she be happy that someone else was helping keep the place clean, or upset at not being able to do the cleaning herself? She seemed okay with it. Just then an alarm pinged, and Tim said: "The cake should be finished." She took it out of the oven and poked it with a fork. "Yes! Mom, could you tell them the cake's ready? Daddy, how big a slice do you want?" Mindy smiled and went down the hall toward the den. "So," I said as Tim served up our slices of cake, "I haven't had a chance to ask yet; how is grad school treating you, Emily? Are you keeping up with your Mandarin?" "Yes, Uncle Jack," she said in Mandarin. "I am practicing with Chinese exchange students, although I am not currently taking any Mandarin classes." "Good. -- Let's talk later, privately. I'd like to hear what you think about how Tim is adjusting, especially to the change in gender." Then in English, "This is some good cake here, Tim. You'll make your grandma proud." "Thanks," she said. "I hoped I got it right. It's the first time I've made it." "Had you ever done any baking before?" She shrugged. "I helped Mom bake cookies now and then, back when it was just her and me. But not very often." Just then Mindy returned with Steve and Craig. "Somebody mentioned cake?" Craig said, and Tim offered him a slice on a small plate. Steve nodded politely to me. "Jack." "Steve," I said. "Good to see you." I didn't begrudge him Mindy. We'd remained intermittent lovers after we separated for the first time, and we were still friends after the divorce, but I knew I couldn't be the kind of man she needed, not with my travel-compulsion, and I was glad she'd finally found someone. I just wished Steve would believe that. "How long do you think you'll stay in town?" he asked. "As long as Tim needs me, with maybe a break of a day or two here or there if I find I have to get on the road again for a while. I've got a reservation at the Holiday Inn over on Parmer Lane; I'll head over there in a little while." They just had one guest bedroom, and Emily was sleeping in it; besides, the one time I'd stayed there since Mindy and Tim moved in with Steve, I'd felt acutely uncomfortable, and since then I'd stayed in a hotel. "I'll see you tomorrow after work, then. Have a good visit with Tim." He took his slice of cake and returned to the den and the TV. Craig paused long enough to compliment Tim on the cake, of which he'd already wolfed down once slice and taken another, before he returned to watch the second half of the game with his dad. It was only after everyone else had gotten some, and she'd set aside a couple of slices under plastic wrap with a big label saying "THIS CAKE IS FOR LISA", that Tim sat down with us and ate a slice of it herself. "I need to get back to work pretty soon," she said. "I can run the dishwasher after we finish our cake, and then I need to get back to work on the windows..." "You need to get to bed soon after your father goes back to his hotel," Mindy said. "You can wash *one* more window after you finish the dishes." Tim sighed. "Okay, Mom." Despite how delicious the cake was, and how full of childhood memories of Mom and Grandma baking cakes like it, I made myself slow down and pace myself so I finished my slice just when Tim finished hers. Then I took my plate and fork to the dishwasher and said: "So, what do you want help with? Mindy, is it okay for me to stay another hour?" "Sure. Maybe until ten? I've been letting Tim stay up until midnight when it's not a school night, but staying up reading or playing games is one thing -- working her fingers to the bone is another. She needs to get some rest sometime." "Mom, can we wash the windows in you and Steve's bedroom?" Mindy pursed her lips. "You'd better ask him... No, tomorrow while we're at work would be better, even if he's likely to be watching TV for another hour or two." "Okay. What about organizing one of the closets?" "Not the hall closets, or the ones in the bedrooms. I'm not sure you could finish it before bedtime, and leaving stuff lying around in piles overnight would be inconvenient. What about... um... the cabinets in the living room?" "Oh, yeah! I forgot about them. Come on, Daddy!" She took me by the arm and led me into the living room, where there were several wooden cabinets and shelves. Emily followed us. It looked like the knickknacks and mementos on the open shelves had all been dusted in the last few days, but Tim opened up one of the closed doors to reveal a compact mess of papers, notebooks, envelopes, data cubes, board games, card games, and less identifiable items. "How do you want to do this?" I asked. "Just start pulling stuff out," she said; "we can sort things into piles on the sofa cushions and the easy chairs. Papers there, games there, data cubes there... I'll go get some organizer trays." For a few minutes, we worked on sorting the junk out of the cabinets and didn't say much besides "Where should this go?" or "What *is* this thing?" Sometimes Emily asked me, "What do you call this?" and I'd tell her the name for it in Mandarin, if I knew. After a while I decided I was ready to ask some more questions, and said: "Tim, how do you feel about all this? Being a girl, for instance?" She didn't pause in sorting things as she said: "Being a girl is okay. I mean, back when I was a little kid and I heard about how Emily had Twisted, it scared me; I didn't want to be a girl. But now that it's happened I wonder what I was afraid of." Emily smiled at her. "Have you thought any more about a name?" "Um, not much. I've been kind of busy." "But do you want a girl's name?" I asked. "Do you want me to say 'he' or 'she' when I'm talking about you? I don't want to assume too much." "Yeah. I'm a girl now, and I know I need a girl's name... I just haven't made up my mind yet. Mom said you and her never came up with a girl name for me, because you already knew I was a boy by the time you got serious about names." "That's right. I guess you could look at your grandmothers' and aunts' names -- Diane, Karen, Rhoda, Wendy..." Emily winced when I mentioned her Aunt Wendy, my little sister. She had a self-injury compulsion, even worse than Tim's obsession with housecleaning, and had to be kept in a straitjacket for her own protection. She'd lived in the Central State Hospital in Milledgeville, Georgia for her entire adult life. "On second thought, maybe not Wendy." "Rhoda's a pretty name. I'll think about it... I was sort of leaning toward 'Elizabeth' or 'Anna,' but I couldn't make up my mind, and Emily said it's important to get it right the first time, because changing your name is a lot of hassle." "Those are good names, too. What about this... intense focus on keeping things clean?" "It feels right. It feels *important*. It's like how you have to always be going places, right? Shouldn't I be doing this?" She paused for a moment in her work, and looked at me with the most plaintive expression; I wanted to hug her. After a moment's thought I did. "Oh, sweetie, you should do what you think is important, even if other people don't care about it. But you shouldn't let one important thing crowd out all the other important things. You remember how we went to Trittsville last summer?" "Yeah." I'd picked up Tim a couple of days after the school session ended, and gone on a road trip with him; we'd meandered around the southeast, never staying in one place for more than one night, until we got to Trittsville, Georgia, where I grew up and where most of our relatives still live. "And we stayed there for almost half our trip, even though I normally don't like to stay in one place more than two or three days. Sometimes when the need to travel got too bad I had to get on the road for a few hours, but I came back to your Aunt Rhoda's house every night, remember?" "Yeah." "Because constantly going places is important to me, but family is important too." "So... I need to learn how to stop cleaning for a while when I need to be with family?" "Or anything else that's important to you. Yes." "Okay... I'll try." She sifted through the stack of unsorted papers and started separating it into smaller piles. "But it's nice when I can do both at once." "It sure is. -- Which stack do you want Lisa's fourth-grade book reports in?" ----- Mindy came in when we were nearly done and said "Tim, it's time for bed." "We're almost done," she pleaded. "Five more minutes," Mindy amended. "You're doing a great job, but it doesn't all have to be done tonight. I picked the living room because you can leave it a mess overnight and it won't matter." (It looked to me like they did most of their living in the den, and kept the living room looking pretty for visitors. There wasn't a big console in here, only a couple of small picture-frames rotating photos mostly of Mindy and Steve's families, with a few of them and their children together.) So we left several stacks of papers and things spread out on the sofa, while we put other things back in the cabinet in neatly organized trays. I hugged Tim goodnight. "What time does it suit for me to come over tomorrow?" I asked. "Eight, maybe eight-thirty? Just before Steve and I leave for work." "See y'all then." Emily followed me out onto the porch. "She's really glad to have you here," she said. "I'm glad I'm finally here," I said. "I wish I hadn't been so far away when he Twisted, but... well, staying in North America for five or six years, during the whole window of time when he might have Twisted, just seemed too claustrophobic." "Don't beat yourself up over that," she said. "You've been coming to see him regularly, and I expect you've had to fight your compulsions sometimes to be here when you told them you would, right?" I nodded curtly. "What do you think? About how she's doing, I mean?" She looked thoughtful. "I don't think she's just putting a brave face on; she's really okay with her new gender. When we went out clothes- shopping, she didn't fuss about trying on bras or skirts, or insist on buying only jeans, like some people. And you saw how she was dressed, just now -- she picked that out herself. But we didn't have time to buy very much because she got so anxious about the housework she'd left undone." "What do you think the compulsion is really focused on? Did she try to straighten things out at the store, if there was anything out of order - - jeans on the skirt rack or something? Or the magazines in the doctor's waiting room?" "No -- she just kept talking about stuff back home that she wasn't satisfied with and wanted to be cleaner or neater. We'd washed and put away all the dishes and clothes before we left the house, and Aunt Mindy tells me the place hasn't been this clean since Steve hired a cleaning service to get it ready for her to see, back when they were dating. But it's still not enough for her." "So it's not a general cleaning compulsion -- that's good, I guess." I sighed. "I hope we can help her. Or the doctors can." "You think they'll put her on anti-compulsion drugs, like Ryan?" Ryan was my older cousin; he got some nasty compulsions from his Twist, which had been imperfectly controlled by drugs until suddenly they *weren't* controlled anymore, and eventually he decided drastic amateur surgery was the only way to suppress them permanently. "I don't know. I think they've improved the drugs since Ryan's Twist, so there's fewer side effects. But I don't think they'll use them without trying less drastic methods first." "Like meditation?" "Or hypnosis, or more basic techniques. Sometimes you can sort of trick yourself into satisfying your compulsions in one way when your natural impulse would be to satisfy them in another way... for instance, when I go walk or drive around for a few hours and then come back to the same place, instead of just drifting on like part of me wants to do. Or how you play off your socializing compulsion against your studying compulsion to keep them both under control." She laughed nervously. "Speaking of which, I need to get some studying in before bed. And I should call Vic now," she pulled out her phone and speed-dialed, "or I'll study until I fall asleep and forget to call him... Good night, Uncle Jack." "See you tomorrow. Say hi to Vic for me." ----- I was worried about Tim, but I was also pretty exhausted from three days of travel, so it didn't take me long to fall asleep once I got checked in to my hotel. One aspect of my Twist helps me adjust to new time zones quickly, but "quickly" is relative; where other people my age might take a week to adjust to traveling across nine time zones (including the International Dateline), I can usually get over it in a day or so. In other words, though I fell asleep quickly I didn't sleep for very long. It was late afternoon in the New Guinea highlands, and very early morning in Austin, when I woke up again and could *not* get back to sleep. I got up and worked on a translation job for a couple of hours, and then went for a walk around the neighborhood -- I pick my hotels for how safe they are to walk around near at night -- before returning to get a short nap again just before dawn, hoping that would help me adjust to local time. (I'd called my clients and told them I had to cancel the most urgent jobs, due to a family emergency, but I still had some lower-priority translations to work on when I had time. This one was the latest season of a popular Nigerian vid serial, which I was subtitling in Tagalog.) I woke up from my nap feeling a little more localized, showered, and ate breakfast at a local diner I'd discovered on one of my earlier visits; then headed over to Mindy and Steve's house just before eight-thirty. Steve was just about to walk out the door when I arrived. "Good morning, Jack," he said, opening the door for me. "Tim's in the kitchen... See you tonight, I guess. I'm off." He stepped past me and headed toward his car; I passed through the living room into the kitchen, where Tim and Emily were working on the breakfast dishes. "Good morning, Uncle Jack," Emily said, dried off her hands, and came over to hug me. Tim smiled at me, but it seemed to cost her some effort to stop working on the dishes for a few moments so she could get the next hug. "Good morning, sweetie," I said. "Did you have a good night's sleep?" I.e., *Were you able to sleep or were you constantly thinking about housework that needed to be done?* "Yeah, I think I got enough sleep," Tim said, looking evasive. Emily added: "She got a lot of things accomplished, even if sleep wasn't one of the things." "Hmm?" "I was only up for a couple of hours," Tim protested. "Maybe three." "I couldn't sleep through the night either; jet lag, you know. Hopefully tonight will be better." Just then Mindy came through the kitchen, dressed for work. "Oh, good, you're here. Paulina's supposed to be dropping Lisa off any time now, on her way to work. Sorry I've got to rush." "Do what you need to do. Anything I need to know?" She huffed. "Try to keep Tim out of Lisa and Craig's rooms, okay?" She gave Tim a stern glance; Tim looked sheepish. When Mindy had rushed out, I asked: "So, who's Paulina, where's Craig, and why does your mom think I need to worry about keeping you out of your stepsiblings' rooms?" "Paulina is Lisa's friend Joelle's mom -- Lisa spent the night at her house. Craig's still asleep. And... um... I kind of got in trouble for cleaning Lisa's room in the middle of the night." "Ah... Well, since I was up and going for a walk at three a.m., I can't throw stones." She giggled. "So... what are our projects for today? I think you said something about washing windows?" "Yes, and I want to organize some more cabinets and closets..." A few minutes later, after she'd shown me where the cleaning supplies were, and the stepladder, I was on the east side of the house, mounting the stepladder to wash the outside of one of the living room windows. Tim looked out at me and smiled; she'd already begun washing the inside of it. "Good work," I said. I'd dialed her phone and we'd put on headsets before we started, so we could talk as well as see each other through the windows. "Thanks, Daddy. We can do the living room and den windows, and Steve said it's okay to do the one in his office but I'm supposed to wait and work with him on cleaning the other stuff in there... I hope I can wait, I don't want to get in trouble again..." "Just focus on other stuff that needs doing. Isn't there something else that needs doing just as badly?" "Oh, yeah, lots of stuff. Lisa's room still needs work even after I worked at it until I was sleepy enough to go back to bed, and Craig's room needs vacuuming and dusting even though he's not as messy as Lisa, but I'm supposed to ask their permission to clean in there. And the den still needs a lot of work, I dusted and vacuumed but I want to vacuum under the furniture too; can you help move it out of the way?" "Of course, sweetie." We'd moved on to the den window when a car pulled up in the driveway. "Someone's here," I said, gesturing toward it. "Do you want me to go say hello to them?" "It's probably Paulina with Lisa. I'll go answer the door." But she gave the window another good scrub before she put down her washrag and squeegee bottle and left the window. I waved to the people getting out of the car. Yes, that was Lisa, though she was noticeably taller than when I'd seen her at Christmas, and she'd dyed and cut her hair since then. I didn't think the black spiky look suited her, but I wasn't about to say anything. "Hi, Tim's dad," she said, avoiding the front door and coming around to where I was still standing on the ladder. "Tim's put you to work, too?" "Is that what she's doing?" I said in mock dismay. "And she charged me a whole quarter for letting me wash windows! I know I should have taken up that other fellow's offer to whitewash the fence, he only wanted ten cents." Lisa rolled her eyes; the older woman laughed. "You must be, ah, Tim's father? I'm Paulina Yancey; my daughter Joelle goes to school with Tim and Lisa. Is Mindy home?" "She's at work, or on her way. Shall I give her a message?" "No. Just... I need to get to work. I suppose I may see you again. Have you got everything out of the car, Lisa?" Lisa silently hefted her duffel bag and nodded. Paulina waved and went back to her car, just as Tim went out the front door -- I couldn't see her from that angle, but I heard over my headset when she said: "Good morning, Mrs. Yancey. Where's Lisa?" "Around the side of the house talking to your father. Sorry, I've got to run," and she got in her car and went. "So what do you think of your new daughter?" Lisa asked. I paused and thought, knowing that Tim would hear me over her headset. "Tim is a very thoughtful young woman," I said. "She set aside two slices of cake for you last night -- they should still be there even if your dad and brother devoured the rest of it." Tim came back to the window then, and opened it a crack so Lisa could hear her. "Hi, Lisa. Did you have fun at Joelle's house?" "Yeah. I'll try to talk her into inviting you next time, if you want." Tim had already resumed scrubbing the window, and I went back to work on my side as well. "Thanks. I would have been too busy to come this time, but maybe later... it would be nice. Do you think Joelle's okay with Twisted?" "She thinks Twisted are weird, because no offense, you kinda are. But she'll invite you over if I tell her to." "Okay..." "Well, I'mo go put my stuff away. And don't think I'm going to spend my spring break washing and sorting stuff even if you managed to talk your cousin and your dad into helping." She grinned and went around to the back door. Tim and I finished up the den window and moved on to the window in Steve's office. I'd just gotten the stepladder in place and started spraying on cleaner fluid when I heard Lisa's yell, filtered through Tim's phone and the glass of the window: "TIM! WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY ROOM?" "Oops," Tim said. "I'll come on in and help with damage control," I said, and dismounted the ladder. By the time I got inside and to the office, Lisa had gotten a lot more shouting in and had apparently grabbed Tim by the arms and shaken her before Emily intervened. (She'd been organizing the dishes and cups in the kitchen cabinets according to Tim's instructions, and had come running when she heard the altercation.) "-- messed with my *stuff*, you have no *right*! I never barged into *your* room and rummaged through your bugs and your underwear and stuff!" "Lisa," I said, "has anybody explained to you about Twist compulsions?" She took a deep breath and glared at me. "We had a unit about Twisted in health sciences. And I looked it up online, when Dad started dating Mindy and I found out Tim might be Twisted." Tim said quietly, "I'm sorry. I said I was sorry, but it was just so messy I couldn't leave it alone... I hardly threw anything away, and I didn't really read anything..." "She couldn't help it," Emily pleaded. "We're trying to help her get better control over it, but it's going to take time." "Tim seems to have a compulsion to keep things clean and organized," I said. "We're still figuring out how it works. But... Tim doesn't have to clean everything herself, as long as it gets done. Right, Tim?" "Right." "So if you clean your *own* room..." I suggested. "...Then I won't have to," Tim finished. "You're not my mom," Lisa said mulishly. "Keep out of my stuff." She stomped off to her room and slammed the door. "That could have gone better," Emily said with a sigh. "I'm sorry," Tim said miserably. "Don't beat yourself up over it," I said, and hugged her. "Just keep trying to do better." Tim let me hug her for a few more moments, sniffling a little, and then said: "Can we wash some more windows?" I smiled wanly. "Sure, sweetie." But on my way to the front door, I met Craig, who'd woken up after all that commotion, and had come into the kitchen to get something to eat. "Oh, hey, Jack. What was that hollering about?" "Lisa's mad at Tim," Emily put in, having followed me into the kitchen. "I think she'll get over it." "Hmm." Craig didn't sound surprised or upset; maybe he was used to his younger siblings yelling at each other for "little-kid" reasons that seem utterly trivial from the lofty height of seventeen years. "You going to be around all day?" "I expect so, unless we can coax Tim into going out to lunch with us." "I'mo go hang with some friends after I eat and wash up. Dad already knows, he's cool with it." "I'm not here to babysit you, Craig. But -- just a word of warning?" "Hmm?" He was suddenly defensive. "If there's something in your room you don't want Tim to see, if for instance she suddenly got a compulsion to clean up in there... you might want to take it with you. I'll try to keep Tim out of there, but I can't promise anything. And if you straighten up a little before you go, maybe vacuum the floor, it might help Tim keep the impulse under control." His eyes widened. "Okay." "And... is it okay if we wash the window in your room? I'll make sure Tim doesn't mess with anything else." ----- Emily went back to work on the kitchen cabinets, and Tim and I went back to work on the windows. We had all the windows -- except the inside of the one in Lisa's room -- done in another couple of hours. Then we helped Emily finish up the kitchen, and I moved furniture aside to give Tim room to vacuum under things. And so it went until lunchtime. "I'm getting a little hungry," I said to Tim as she turned off the vacuum cleaner and unplugged it. "What about you?" We'd just finished up the den -- at least as far as I could tell, though I suspected Tim's obsession would find more things in there to clean or straighten if she wasn't distracted by other, messier parts of the house. "I could make sandwiches," she said, "unless you'd rather have leftovers from last night? There's still enough for two or three servings." "Either would be fine," I said, "but what do you think about going out?" At her panicked look I hurried on: "Not far, and not for long. If we go to the nearest fast-food place -- that taqueria on Metric Boulevard, for instance, unless you know someplace closer? -- it won't take any longer than eating here." "A few minutes longer," she said. "We don't have to do it if you feel like you can't. But I'd like you to try going out for a few minutes, before we have to spend all day in Dallas." "...All right. Maybe so." Craig had left to go hang with his friends a couple of hours earlier, and Lisa still hadn't come out of her room since her fight with Tim. We collected Emily from where she'd been sorting a load of clothes out of the drier, and knocked on Lisa's bedroom door. "We're going out for tacos; you want to come?" "No," came her muffled voice. "There's cake in the refrigerator with your name on it," Tim called out. Lisa opened the door. "I'm still mad at you, even if you made cake." "I'm sorry." "You should be. You can go without me," she added, turning to me. "All right. Your brother's gone out, too, so you'll be alone; we'll lock all the doors." Emily, Tim and I all piled into my rental car. Tim seemed okay at first; we chatted about what still needed to be done before Friday during the three-minute drive to the taqueria. We went in and ordered, and stood near the counter waiting for our tacos and enchiladas. But I saw that Tim was getting a little fidgety and glancing out the window at the car. "So, I haven't heard yet -- what was going on when you Twisted?" (I'd been saving that topic for a moment when she needed a distraction.) "Oh," she said, and glanced at Emily. "It's kind of stupid. I was about to go over to Neal's house and hang out, but Mom said I had to clean my room first -- oh, it was such a horrible mess!" She looked distressed at the memory, and I regretted bringing the subject up when she was already stressed from being away from home. "And I complained about it so much -- what was I thinking? -- that she said I had to clean the bathroom too, the one I share with Lisa and Craig you know? And so I started to clean up my room, and then I felt all tingly and passed out..." Just then my name was called, and we picked up our orders. "Do you feel okay to sit and eat here?" I asked. "Can we go home now?" "We could, but we wouldn't get any more cleaning done while eating tacos in the dining room than if we ate them here." "I guess so." So we found a table and sat down, and Tim ate intently, not pausing to talk between bites and refusing to talk with her mouth full. Emily and I chatted a little about my recent travels, her experiences in grad school, her husband Vic's new job, and so forth. Tim finished her taco sooner than we did, naturally, and was impatient to be gone, so we wrapped up our unfinished tacos and went to the car. "So," I said as I started the car, "back to your Twist... what happened when you woke up? How long did it take before you noticed your new compulsions?" "Well, I guess the first thing I noticed was that I was a girl. Mom had found me and put a blanket over me after the Twist burned off my clothes, and she sent everybody else away and sat beside me until I woke up..." When Mindy had called me, early in the morning PNG time, she'd been sitting by Tim's bedside, watching her sleep off the effects of the Twist. She'd told me about the physical changes, but she didn't yet know what mental changes Tim might have experienced. "...She asked me how I felt, and I said being a girl wasn't as weird as I thought it might be, but I was really anxious about the big hole I'd burned in the carpet." "Guilty about damaging it?" Emily asked. "You know it wasn't your fault." "No, I mean, it bothered me that my carpet had this big hole in it and the part around the hole was burned. I wanted to fix it but I didn't see how. Mom helped me get dressed and she wanted me to eat something, but I looked at my room and saw how I'd hardly gotten any cleaning done before I passed out, and I wanted to finish it. So I cleaned up until I was too hungry to wait any more, and ate, and kept cleaning until it was done, later in the evening. But it still didn't look right because of the hole in the carpet. Mom and I moved the rug from the den to my room to cover up the hole, and that was better, but I'd like to get new carpet in there, only Steve says the carpet installing guys can't do it until next week. -- Can you install carpet, Daddy?" "Um, no, sweetie. At least I've never done it before, and me learning how would probably take longer than waiting for the professionals." I'd learned a lot of obscure skills in my almost thirty years on the road, but installing carpet was not among them. "What I *really* wanted was to replace the carpet with tile or laminate or something easier to keep clean, but Steve wouldn't let me. He said it would look weird to have one room like that and the rest of the house carpeted." "Hmm. Would he mind replacing *all* the carpet with laminate? If the cost is an issue, I can help out, and maybe we can get a grant from the Nia Clarence Foundation, if it's necessary to accommodate your Twist." Unfortunately Texas didn't have a program to help out Twisted with expenses caused by their Twists, like some states, or at least they didn't when I checked a couple of years ago. "That would be nice... I'm not sure I can honestly tell them it's really necessary though." "We'll see. -- Here we are." Tim hopped out of the car and was unlocking the front door almost before Emily and I had our seatbelts off. By the time we got inside, we found her sweeping the kitchen. "Didn't you just sweep in here yesterday?" Emily asked, looking puzzled and worried. "Yeah, but it looks like Lisa got some crumbs and stuff on the floor when she was fixing her lunch." "She finished lunch in the time we spent at the taqueria?" Tim blushed. "She kind of grabbed her plate and went to her room with it when she saw me come in. I guess she didn't want to talk to me." Then I realized something. "Wait a minute. Did you already know about the crumbs on the floor before you came in? Is that why you were suddenly so anxious to get home, and to get out of the car as fast as you could?" I thought we might have discovered her trick. "Huh. Not exactly, but I did get kind of anxious there about the kitchen. I didn't know it was this, though." "We need to test this," I said. "It might not be comfortable for you, but... hmm. What about if you finish this up, and then go out in the back yard, with Emily? Then I'll make a small mess -- small! -- somewhere in the house, and clean it up a couple of minutes later, and you tell Emily if you feel a sudden anxiety about a particular room needing work. Deal?" "Can we not do that right now?" "Okay, later. But let's try to do it before we see the Twist specialists." "Okay." She finished sweeping the floor and began wiping down the table, on which Lisa had left a few crumbs and a dollop of mustard. ----- After we finished the kitchen, we moved on to the bathrooms. Emily cleaned the half-bath in the hall near the kitchen following general directions from Tim, and Tim and I worked on the full bathroom that she shared with Lisa and Craig. "This looks nearly spic and span to begin with," I said as we got started. "Did you just clean it recently?" She nodded and started scrubbing the toilet. "But you aren't looking close enough. Craig's aim isn't that great... until he learns better this toilet's going to need a wipe-down every day or two. And the floor around it. And as long as we're in here you might as well wipe down the sink and counter and faucets with disinfectant, and get any hairs out of the shower drain..." So we worked in silence for a few minutes. Then I asked: "You said you were about to go over to Neal's house when your Twist happened... did you ever get to go, or have you been too busy cleaning house?" She sprayed some more disinfectant on the floor and said: "I was so freaked out by how messy my room was, and so focused on cleaning it, that I forgot I'd told Neal I was coming over. Later on Mom told me that he'd called while I was unconscious, and she'd told him I wasn't feeling well and would talk to him later... I meant to call him back right away but I got distracted, and didn't call him until Sunday, after Emily got here and we went out shopping. It was while we were driving to the store, and I felt useless like I couldn't clean the house anymore and I couldn't buy clothes yet, and I wasn't old enough to drive... and Mom asked if I'd called Neal yet, so I did. And he didn't exactly freak out when I told him I was a girl now, and he came over later to hang out, after we got home from the department store. But... he didn't stay all that long, and he hasn't come back. I think I bored him talking about all the cleaning I'd done, or maybe he was just too weirded out by me being a girl." Neal lived a few blocks to the southwest, and had been Tim's best friend in the past two and a half years since his mother had married Steve and they'd moved into this house and school district. Tim still had some online connection with friends from the school he'd attended when he and Mindy lived in an apartment, or at least he'd had before his Twist, but he was closer to Neal, who shared a lot of his interests. On my recent visits I'd gotten to know Neal's family almost as well as Steve and his children, and I'd taken both boys on trips to nearby parks and the natural history museum. Neal had already been an acute observer of nature for someone his age, but it was meeting Tim that got him into collecting insects. Now, though? Tim had said she was still interested in collecting arthropods (he'd expanded the scope of his collection in the last few years), but it sounded like she hadn't found any time for that hobby since her Twist. If she no longer shared real interests with Neal, it might be futile to try to maintain the friendship. Still, I thought we should try. "Neal knew you might be Twisted; I remember we talked about it in the car on the way to Bee Cave, and I mentioned it to his parents and grandmother not long after I met them." "Yeah, we talked about it when you weren't around too. And he promised he'd still be there for me whatever happened, if I turned into a six- armed troll or an invisible bank robber or anything, and I hoped he was right but I wasn't sure. I mean, if I turned out like Aunt Wendy I wouldn't expect him to keep visiting me in the hospital every week for the rest of his life." (I'd taken him to visit his Aunt Wendy for the first time on our last road trip. Not that I was trying to warn him to brace himself about the possibilities of his Twist; no, I just thought he was mature enough to meet her without freaking out, and I was right.) "Have you gone over to his house since your Twist?" She scowled. "I haven't had time! I've got so much to do, and you and Mom keep interrupting me to go shop for clothes or see the doctor or eat lunch... Wait. I need to do something." She threw away the wipe she'd been using, got up and squeezed past me where I was leaning over the sink. She went to the door of Lisa's room, down the hall; I couldn't see her from where I was standing, but I could hear her. She knocked, and Lisa called out: "What is it?" "Are you done with lunch?" "What if I am?" "Can I take your plate to the kitchen?" "...Okay, if you promise to leave me alone after that." The door opened. Then Tim said: "I think you got some crumbs on the carpet... is it okay if I vacuum in here?" "No! Leave me ALONE!" The door slammed. I stopped working on the sink for a moment and stepped into the hall. Tim stood there looking at Lisa's door, then said: "That could have gone better." "It could have, yeah." She went to put the plate in the dishwasher, then returned to finish up the bathroom. "Did you actually see the crumbs on the carpet?" I asked. "I -- no, I don't think so. But I know they're there." I nodded. "I think we know a little more about your trick, now. Do you want to test it out some more?" "Let me finish this first," she said, but when we finished cleaning the bathroom she wanted to organize the closets, and we were still working on the hall closet when Mindy came home from work. I didn't push; I could see Tim was still upset about the quarrel with Lisa. "Mom!" Tim said when she walked in, without greeting her, "can you get Lisa to vacuum her room, or let me do it? She ate lunch in her room and she got crumbs on the carpet and she wouldn't let me --" "Slow down," Mindy said, putting down her handbag. "I want to hear from Lisa too. Jack, do you know what this is about?" "Lisa got mad about Tim cleaning her room while she was away; she got mad again when Tim intuitively figured out that she got crumbs on the carpet. I think we've discovered Tim's trick, by the way, though we need some more tests to be sure." "Wait, what? Is it..." she hesitated. "Dangerous?" "No. She seems to know when part of the house gets messed up and needs cleaning. She knew about the crumbs on the carpet even though Lisa had been in her room with the door closed the whole time." "Do we know there really *are* crumbs on the carpet? Tim, are you sure you aren't just guessing because she ate in her room?" "I know. I don't know how -- I guess it might be my trick." Mindy sighed. "Let me go talk to her, and have a discreet look around. And I need to get supper started..." "Oh!" Tim said, "I'm sorry, I should have done that. I can work on it while you talk to Lisa." "Let's work on it together -- after we talk to her." Tim gulped. "Lisa?" Mindy called out, knocking at her door. "We need to talk." "Just a minute." Lisa opened the door. "What's up?" "I hear you and Tim have been fighting. I'd like to hear your side of it before I decide anything." "She went in my room and messed with my stuff! I got home and everything was all moved around and I couldn't find anything, and I think she was looking at stuff on my console --" "No, I didn't!" Tim said. She and I were still working on sorting out the stuff we'd pulled out of the hall closet, prior to putting it back in a more orderly arrangement. (Emily was taking a study break.) "Not now, Tim," Mindy said. "Let Lisa finish talking first. -- You were saying?" "So she messed with my stuff, and I guess I yelled at her about it, when I found out. And I told her to stay out, and she said she would, but then she started bugging me about coming in to vacuum the floor." "She said you were eating in your room?" "It's kind of hard to relax and eat in the kitchen when she's hovering around cleaning stuff up as soon as you turn your back!" Lisa scowled at Tim. "Well, if you're going to eat in your room you need to make sure to clean up afterwards." "Do I have to do it right after I finish eating? Every single time?" Mindy sighed. "It used to be we'd sometimes let things slide... let dishes or clothes pile up until the weekend, wait for a not-very-busy weekend to do the vacuuming and stuff. But now... we all need to make adjustments. Tim gets upset when things aren't clean." "She can clean her own room as obsessively as she wants, but it's none of her business how often I clean *mine*." "The crumbs will attract bugs if we don't clean them up soon," Tim fretted, and Mindy shot her a warning look. Lisa responded: "I thought you liked bugs!" "Let's not change the subject," Mindy said. "Lisa, this isn't about whether or when, it's about how. Promise you'll vacuum your room sometime before bed tonight, or let Tim do it right now." "She can do it," Lisa said after a moment, and to Tim: "I'll be watching and making sure you don't mess with anything else." "Okay," Tim said. "I'll go get the vacuum cleaner." I finished putting away the towels, cleaning supplies and so forth from the hall closet. ----- Steve got home a few minutes later, and Craig not long after. Emily emerged from her guest room and her study break in time to help set the dining table for supper. Supper was tense, with Lisa glaring at Tim, Mindy and me, after having angrily appealed to her father, who'd glanced at Mindy and said: "Let's talk about it after supper." "So," Mindy said after a few minutes, "how was your day, Craig?" He told us in vague terms about hanging out with certain friends, playing games and watching movies. "Is Tim still working you hard?" she asked Emily. "I feel bad about having you come visit and making you work all the time --" "It's cool," Emily replied. "I'm taking breaks when I need to, but I feel good helping Tim out. You know Uncle Jack helped me a lot right after my Twist, and I like to pay it forward." Steve and Craig shifted uncomfortably in their chairs, glancing briefly at Emily and me and back down at their plates. "I'd like to do something nice for you before you go home," Mindy continued. "I'd say we'd take you out to a nice restaurant, but I'm not sure Tim could..." "We went out for tacos today," Tim said. "Dad said I should try going out for a little while, and it was okay at first." "You'll have to be gone a lot longer than that on Friday," Mindy said. "Jack, do you think she's ready?" "She says she thinks she can do it if we get the place clean enough by then. Tonight and tomorrow should be enough time -- if Tim doesn't have to do all the work herself. If she has enough help." Steve swallowed a bite and said: "I said I'd wash the outside windows this weekend, but --" "Dad washed them today," Tim said. "I did the insides and he did the outsides." "Oh." Steve was taken aback. "Ah... thanks, Jack. So what else needs to be done before you leave for this clinic Friday morning?" "The other closets," Tim said; "the one in the den for instance... and, um, the ones in your bedroom and Craig's. I mean, Craig's room is okay mostly, but his closet...!" "My messy closet is the secret of my clean room," Craig said. "Don't mess with success." "But it's not right," Tim said, frustration evident on her face. "I think we need to set some new ground rules," Mindy said. "We all," (she looked significantly at Steve as she said this) "need to keep our rooms cleaner and neater than before, to avoid causing Tim unnecessary distress. But Tim, you need to not go in other people's bedrooms without permission." "I know," she said, not meeting anyone's eyes. "Craig, can you work with Tim on cleaning your room after supper? Or would you rather do it yourself? Your father and I will be working on our room." Steve looked for a moment like he wanted to protest, but closed his mouth without saying anything. Craig looked bemused for a moment, and said: "Okay, squirt, you can help me." "What are you going to do about Tim going in my room without permission?" Lisa asked Mindy. "Your father and I will discuss that in private," Mindy said, frowning. Now that she had permission to help Craig clean his room, Tim was eager to finish dinner, and didn't waste any more time talking. But when she finished eating, she seemed torn between starting in on cleaning Craig's room, or staying to clear the table and work on the dishes. Emily saw this and said: "You go ahead as soon as Craig's done -- I can get the dishes tonight." "You're sure?" "Go ahead." Craig finished about then and he and Tim went down the hall toward his room, already talking about what needed to be done. Steve and Mindy disappeared into their room, and Lisa into hers. I helped Emily with the dishes, and we talked in Mandarin. "Do you think we can really get the place so clean that Tim's compulsion doesn't affect her?" she asked. "We'll have to try. It depends -- it doesn't seem to be a compulsion to *clean*, so much as a compulsion to *have her home be clean*. That's how she describes it, and it's consistent with the way she's happy to have help, or have other people clean parts of the house while she cleans others." "But still -- I don't think she's taken any time off from cleaning except to eat and sleep and, um, stuff like that. Except when we made her go out to shop for clothes, or see the doctor." "Could be it's just because the house isn't clean *yet*. Could be she'll never be satisfied with it, that she'll keep finding things that could be better... maybe once all the clutter and dirt is eliminated she'll start wanting to redecorate or renovate. But no sense borrowing trouble. Let's hope it's just focused on getting the house clean *enough*, and try to help her do that before Friday morning." When we'd gotten the dishwasher loaded, the table wiped off, the floor swept, and the salt-shakers and so forth arranged symmetrically the way Tim liked them, I said: "I'm getting a little restless -- I can help with some more cleaning later, but right now I need to go for a walk. I should let Mindy know... and Tim." "Yes..." She glanced toward the hall. I went first to Mindy and Steve's door, planning to knock, but I heard raised voices. I could make out a couple of phrases here and there -- "if you hadn't," "you can't just," "not her fault" -- and part of me wanted to stand there and see how much I could learn that way, but I suppressed it. I went further down the hall to Craig's bedroom door, which was standing open. Tim was wiping dust off the shelves and desk with a damp washcloth, while Craig pulled stuff out of the closet preparatory to reorganizing it. "I need to go for a walk," I said. "You know how it is, right?" Tim nodded, though Craig looked puzzled. "Are you coming back tonight?" "Yes, as soon as I can satisfy the compulsion -- see something new. I'm getting too familiar with this neighborhood, so I might have to walk twenty or thirty minutes to get to a street I haven't walked on before." Tim smiled. "You could sneak into somebody's backyard, you've never been *there* before. Craig, isn't Enrique's family on vacation this week?" "Yeah, but -- are you serious?" "No," I said, "bad idea. Urban exploring is one thing, when it's an abandoned building and you've got a buddy and the right equipment to do it safely. But not when people live there and just happen to be away." Maybe it had been a mistake to take Tim with me on that late-night walk around Trittsville. But... it had turned out okay, and with the way her Twist was turning out, we'd never have a chance to do that again. I resolved not to regret it. "I'll help out with whatever I can as soon as I get back." "Thanks, Daddy." I passed by Mindy and Steve's door. If anything the voices coming through it were louder. I decided to just go, and talk to Mindy when I got back; if she came out in the next while and wanted to know where I was, Emily or Tim could tell her. ----- When I got back, almost an hour later, Steve was hauling a bag of garbage out to the curb. "Should have thrown some of this stuff out years ago," he remarked, nodding a hello as I walked up. "It would have sat around for another ten years if your daughter hadn't given us a nudge." "I wouldn't know," I said. "I've traveled light and kept possessions to a minimum since I was a teenager." There'd been a time, shortly after I Twisted, when I hauled around a big backpack and a duffel bag full of everything I could imagine needing on the road. Over time I'd learned to improvise and do without, and pared it down to the essentials. When I was traveling by car for a few months I might acquire a little more stuff, but I'd always get rid of most of it when it was time to travel on foot again. "Hmm. That's good, I guess." He went back into the house and I followed him. Emily was working on the den closet, Craig and Tim were still at work on Craig's bedroom closet, and Mindy was still working on cleaning her and Steve's bedroom; their door was open. Steve went in and I poked my head in. "I'm back. What do you need help with next?" "Actually," Mindy said, "I want to talk. Come on in and close the door?" Steve looked tense, but didn't say anything. I did as she asked. "We talked, earlier, about Tim. About how to punish her for going in and cleaning Lisa's room without permission." "The usual stuff doesn't work," Steve said. "No sense giving her extra chores when she's already doing way more than her share, or grounding her when she doesn't want to go anywhere and she's quit playing games or watching TV on her own. I said we should *stop* her from cleaning something, but --" "I wasn't sure it was a good idea," Mindy said. "Blocking her compulsion by force -- it might make it worse, right?" "Yeah, it could. You remember, I told you about that one time I was in jail, a year or so before I met you?" I'd told Mindy, but never Steve, and I wasn't sure if she'd told him. His expression said she hadn't, and I regretted giving him more ammunition against me. But this needed to be said. "Yeah," Mindy said softly. "You were crawling the walls after a couple of days, weren't you?" "You were in *jail*? What for?" Steve asked, but I didn't answer. I said: "After four days unable to go anywhere I was nervous, on edge, jumping at the slightest noise, pleading with the guards every time I saw them... They were about ready to transfer me to a mental hospital when the Nia Clarence Foundation lawyer got me out. I might be in worse shape than Wendy if they'd stuck me there. But the lawyer arranged for me to serve the rest of my sentence walking around the county picking up trash off the sides of the roads, with a locator device on my ankle. I eventually recovered, but I was twitchy and nervous for months afterward." "So that's a no. But if not that, then *what*?" I was at a loss. I'd never really had to do this -- Mindy and I had separated when Tim was a toddler, before he was old enough to really understand complex punishments or the reasons for them. And I'd never presumed to interfere with the way Mindy was raising him, not when I couldn't be around for more than a few weeks a year at most. I followed her lead, for the sake of consistency, when Tim started coming on short trips with me when he was older. "What about cooking?" I said finally. "Is that a compulsion, or just something she likes doing now?" "I'm not sure," Mindy said. "I don't think it is; she didn't object to going out to eat because she would rather cook her own meal, but because it would take a few minutes away from cleaning... Try that. Don't let her help you with breakfast tomorrow, and if she doesn't get too anxious about that, keep it up at other meals for a day or three -- however long you think is fair for cleaning Lisa's room without permission." "Something's wrong when you're giving *yourself* extra work to punish your daughter," Steve said, more to Mindy than to me. "Maybe we can figure out something better," I said, "but that's all I've got for now." ----- The next morning, I made a detour on the way to Mindy and Steve's house. I stopped by the McFarlands' house, a mile west of my hotel; I remembered how to find the house, but couldn't find them in my phone contacts. I hoped I would find them at home, and I did. "Good morning, Leyla," I said to the dark-haired woman who answered the door. "I'm not sure if you remember me -- I'm Jack Harper, Tim Harper's father?" "Oh, yes. You took Neal and Tim to the museum last summer, didn't you?... What brings you here?" "I'd like to speak with Neal, if I may." "Sure... come on in and have a seat. Neal!" she called o