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Chapter 18 The mermaid and the dolphins were best friends. Every morning, they raced through the water to play hide-and-go-seek in the big seaweed forest. Then, after lunch, they swam to the reef to see all the beautiful coral. Like the rainbows they saw in the sky sometimes, the coral was in all colours. At the end of day, the mommy dolphin would take her babies home, and the mermaid went home to her family in the big castle at the edge of the seaweed forest. "Wait. No, that's not how the story goes. In the book, the mermaid doesn't have a family." The older girl looked at me expectantly, and then at the other two girls, who were about my age. One of the girls said, "Why's it have to be the same as the book? I think it's sad that the mermaid doesn't have a mommy and daddy." She furrowed her brow gently, while her jaw extended in a slight pout. The older girl shook her head. "Because I said so. And because I'm older. Besides, at the end of the story, the mermaid has a new mommy." A wide smile appeared on the girl's face. "Me." I wanted to tell this girl off- tell her that her parents probably read her that book because she is adopted, and they were trying to get her mentally prepared to learn the truth. However, I didn't say anything- I acted just like Kaylee with her older sister, choosing to watch, listen and follow. It wasn't surprising really. My younger cousins always wanted to play with me, no matter how many times I convinced them that putting duct tape in their hair or taking a ride in the dryer was a good idea. I wasn't exactly immune to the trope either. When I was about seven, I desperately wanted to hang out with a group of sixth graders that hung out behind the jungle gym. I remember being so amazed by their skate tricks, their ripped jeans, and the way they spoke- even if I didn't understand about 75% of what they were talking about, it was all incredible. They would let me hang out with them but only under one condition- I had to eat grass. They laughed as I ripped out of a patch out grass and stuffed it in my mouth every day at lunch. It was only stopped when they demanded more. One day they convinced me to eat a cigarette butt, and while I was happy for that lunch hour, I was much less so when I was puking my guts out in the bathroom an hour later. That was one good thing about changing schools nearly every year. In September, I wasn't the kid who ate grass or cigarette butts- I was just the new kid. It was a clean slate. It made me wonder if my transformation was an opportunity for a fresh start. A life I could surrender to and forget my difficult childhood, my failures? The constant battle would end, and neither my gender nor my age would matter. I'd play with girls like these, becoming like them in every way, until the inevitable- the death of Ryan Sullivan. "Okay, I'm your mommy now. Your name is Cecily." She pointed at me, and I simply nodded, accepting the truth as the outside world faded away. The older girl, or rather the mommy dolphin, taught the mermaid everything she needed to know about living under the sea. Cecily learned about warm air pockets that would keep her cozy during colder nights and where to catch the best tasting fish. And every night, the mommy dolphin would kiss Cecily on the cheek and tuck her into a soft seaweed bed. I should have been embarrassed, mortified- my masculinity seeping from me with every giggle and burst of imagination, but I wasn't. I lay my head in the sand as the older girl draped dry seaweed over my body, while the younger ones pretended to sleep beside me. We had moved onto the beach after the older girl proclaimed that wet seaweed was too 'icky'. A tingle of pleasure ran up my spine followed by a contented sigh. I knew that the girl wasn't my real mother, and that she was probably only eight years old, but she made me feel like I was a little boy again. A memory flashed- my mom lifting me out of the bath, and then rubbing me dry before wrapping me in a towel. I slipped into a cozy bed, wearing my favourite Batman PJs, the ones with the tear in the left armpit. It was a time when that hated target, the person I eventually wouldn't respect, wouldn't listen to, when she was mommy. It was a perfect, pure memory, and the further I descended into its warm embrace, the more my life- the one where I struggled to survive, where I wore pain and betrayal and loss like tattoos, angry lines and spiteful colours striking a pattern of cynicism, distrust and excess- the more that life faded away. Gone as if it had never existed. I never wanted this moment to end. "Riley! Riley!" A large shadow crept close, causing the baby dolphins to look up into the sky. Moments later, a hand reached down toward Cecily, but it was scarier than anything she had seen before. The hand was more of a claw, a horrible thing with razor-sharp talons instead of nails. The claw pulled Cecily away while the baby dolphins whined and cried in fear. The mommy dolphin shouted at the shadow, but it didn't listen. She pleaded with the shadow to let Cecily stay, but again, it didn't listen. Cecily tried to pull away, but the shadow was much too strong for the little mermaid. She could only look back sadly at her friends and the mommy dolphin. There would be no more games of tag in the seaweed forest or cozy bed or kisses on the cheek. Her friends waved to her, but the shadow brought her further and further away. The shadow threw Cecily in a cage and slammed the door. "Ryan! Ryan! Snap out of it!" The shadow spoke, but instead of the bellow she expected, or a monstrous howl that would create instant nightmares, there was desperation and fear. "I'm so sorry for leaving you alone. Come on, Ryan! I know you're in there." I sighed heavily. "There's no point. You should have just left me there." Eve shook her head, while her hand snaked out toward mine. By this point, it was a reflex action, but while the action came easily, the hand was quickly retracted. "What are talking about? I don't expect a thanks or anything, especially since it's partly my fault, but I want you to tell me what's going on. No macho bullshit here, Ryan. Why were you fighting me so much? You were just as bad as those girls begging me to let you stay five more minutes." "It didn't exactly look good with me having to drag you out of there. We probably got way more attention than we wanted. Why did you want me to leave you there?" I turned away from Eve, peering sadly out the window. "Because nothing fucking matters anymore. It's over. It was over from the very beginning." Eve asked softly. "What do you mean?" I replied, still looking away from her, "I don't feel anything for girls. And what I thought I was feeling, well it's just- it was wrong. It wasn't how it used to be." Eve shifted in her seat. There was a pause, and then incredibly, instead of heartfelt words of understanding or even a reassuring and comforting touch on the hand- there was laughter. A snort from Eve's less than perfect nostrils. She closed her lips firmly and shut her eyes to seemingly try to stifle the laughter, but she couldn't stop the corners of her mouth very gently lifting, forming a tiny yet perceptible smile. Seconds later, another snort broke through, and this sent me into a boiling rage. "What the fuck is your problem, Eve!? You think this is funny?!" Eve cleared her throat lightly. For someone who didn't smoke, her voice was strangely hoarse. It was another thing I found unattractive about her. While her voice wasn't mannish, it wasn't exactly a silky soprano either. It was gruff, like the school bus driver I had in fourth grade who was nearly constantly yelling at us. "Sorry. Really, I'm sorry. It's just- you're reacting to this like you lost a limb or something. Or like you suddenly forgot how to read and write. Something really essential. I know I'm not a guy or anything, but the ability to get hard or look at a girl in a bikini and think she's hot isn't something that would define me." "And really, what did you expect, Ryan? I've been telling you this since you moved in. That body belongs to a little kid, and because of that, well I've already told you about the sleep thing. You can't think that you are going to do everything or feel everything you did as Ryan. You are setting yourself up for failure that way. And as for your specific problem, well if you let your sexual prowess define you as a person, then yeah you are probably right- I should bring you back there because if that's true, then Ryan Sullivan was never a real person. He was just a walking-talking dick head." I opened my mouth to speak, but the words never came, in fact, they never even tickled my tongue. Moments later, Eve pulled out of the parking lot and onto the highway. Ten minutes into the ride, words, like a middle aged libido suddenly introduced to Viagra, sprung from my lips. "Is that what you really think of me? Is that what you- what you've always thought of me?" There was surprising trepidation in my speech, but even more shocking was the hurt. I couldn't understand why Eve's words had rung so true. I was like a person whose nerves had gone dead- a hand on a hot stove would burn, even blacken skin, but there would never be feeling. The pain should have been apparent, like any number of insults hurled my way, but I brushed them off. Now, it was clear, I was developing an alien sensitivity, and Eve's words had struck a deep chord. It was like she had plunged her hand into my chest and plucked at my heart with bloody fingers. Eve replied firmly, "From the moment I met you, yeah- I did think that about you. I saw how you treated Greg. How you used him for rides or money sometimes. And I saw how you treated women. My best friend and Rachel. Yeah, Ryan- I hated you. I thought you were a massive asshole, and I really wanted Greg to stop hanging out with you." Her face softened and she sighed gently. "I've mentioned this before, but with this change, you've opened up more. You're vulnerable, but still strong. I know that you hate what has happened to you, but it has forced you to come to grips with the fact that you can't just pretend things don't bother you. You can't smother them with meaningless nights of sex and drugs or video games." She said quietly, "But I don't hate you now. And I actually do want to see you turned back. No one deserves to have their life rewritten by some experiment, to become something that feels completely wrong to them." Words tumbled from my lips, completely bypassing my filter. "Part of it doesn't feel wrong though. I-I was so happy with those girls. I didn't care about anything when I was playing with them. There wasn't this sense of failure or concern that I was acting like a kid. I didn't think about the consequences at all. It was so ..." "Easy? I've helped a lot of patients, drug addicts really, go through detox. What you are describing to me, what the serum does to you, it sounds like a really powerful drug. But I know you Ryan. I don't think you meant what you said- you know about me just leaving you there. About giving up." I breathed in, my little chest feeling like it would cave in, until I released a heavy sigh. "You actually don't really know me, Eve. Yeah, you know how I joke around and how I treat your friends and your boyfriend. I want to give up as much as I want to be a guy, an adult, again. I don't deal well with shit like this. I'm used to just running from it. Why do you think I never call my mom? Why do you think I never called Jessica back after the double? Because it's just fucking easier to run from it, to find another girl as hot as her but without the ..." "Intelligence. I get it. OK, but let me ask you this. How come up to this point you were fighting it? You don't dress like a typical six-year girl. Or act like one most of the time. You fought me like your life depended on it on the car seat issue. But today, you find out you can't ogle girls and enjoy it and you are ready to give into the serum. What gives, Ryan? Why are you running now?" My voice raised in pitch and volume, the vocal chords suddenly strangled. "Because I don't know what else to fucking do! I've never dealt with anything like this where I feel myself slipping away and each time I do, all I can think about is how happy I am. And then I realize how fucked up stuff is getting, and I just want to leave- but I can't because I have nowhere to go. Believe me, I want to fight, but I don't know how." Eve replied, "You need to think about what makes you Ryan beyond your sexuality. I think that's the only way you'll be able to hold on to who you really are." Eve's statement introduced another long silence in the car. During the pause, I took many furtive glances toward Eve. Was she still mad about Rachel and the bikini blonde? The way she lightly moved her jaw back and forth in a grinding motion told me all I needed to know. "I don't know if it means anything, but I'm sorry about the shit I said about the bikini girl in front of you. I did it to piss you off so you'd stop being all mothery." "I know. I know you better than you think, Ryan. I figured at some point you would try and ditch me and sneak into one of the parties. I saw you go off with that guy, and I followed you." For the matter-of-fact manner in which Eve was speaking, it was surprising to hear a measure of hurt in her voice. It was like a sliver in a finger, a tiny yet constant dull pulsating pain. I replied, "So why didn't you stop me?" Eve nodded. "I tried." Now, the sliver was a nail, the thin steel puncturing the finger, and the pain, it became a thrumming, vibrant pain- the kind that elicited screams. "You skipped the line so easily, but the line kept moving, so I stayed. And I waited and waited. Until my turn finally came, and then these girls behind me got in. They didn't even have passes." "I know it's stupid. And it is really idiotic to think that I'm on the same level as that girl you were looking at before, but it just- it hit home. I saw you slip through the gate. And then I remembered all the times you made fun of my weight. And I saw you in those asshole bouncers, the way they looked at me with almost disgust, like I was worthless. They didn't have to say anything. I knew I wasn't getting in. And I saw red. I couldn't think clearly. That's when I let you walk right into that group of girls." "I'm so sorry, Ryan. If I had known your mental state, I would have gone to you sooner. I just- I was furious with you, the bouncers, and myself. Mostly you. You may think they are jokes, but they really hurt me. I battled with my weight all through high school- I'm not excusing what I did to you. I realize I never should have left you." I jumped in. "Wait- wait a second, why were you pissed at yourself? You know I didn't mean anything with it. I'm the same way with Greg. I'm just messing around." Eve replied firmly. "Bullshit. You can't be so clueless that you think calling a girl fat is actually a joke. I also don't like how you talk to Greg sometimes. And they aren't jokes, Ryan. Because I sure as hell don't feel like laughing. You make me feel like shit sometimes. I'm mad at myself for letting it bother me." Guys made fun of me in school, calling me ginger kid, some of them pretending I had a disease, but it never really bothered me because I kicked the shit out of anyone who really pissed me off. After a few solid punches, they kept their mouths shut. In Eve's case, however, she never struck back. She never said a word. I felt a deep chasm form within my stomach, and within that dark hole a sensation, a gnawing, like my belly was suddenly full of starving rats. Guilt wasn't a new emotion but it was brand new with respect to Eve. "Yeah, alright- I was messing with you. Trying to piss you off. Mostly because I knew you didn't like me. You hated me from the beginning, so I just figured what's the point in trying to get you to like me. For what it's worth, I'm sorry. I mean I appreciate you guys taking me in. You didn't have to do that. You could have called the police, and then I would have been fucked. I would have been a foster kid and gone to school and been erased. Travers and Daniels would have won completely because there would have been no way the truth would ever get out." I cleared my throat. "I guess, well you know- it's...thanks. For believing me and taking me in." Eve smiled gently. "Yeah, cause no one else would put up with you." Her jaw clenched and the smile hardened into grim resolve. "I know how important this is. People need to know what the government and those companies are doing. It's important that we keep you safe for that reason alone, but personally, I also want to get to know a new Ryan Sullivan." She smiled. "One I can actually like." *** After the debacle at the beach, I was actually looking forward to the weekday routine. Despite having to spend the time with an old woman, I actually liked her company, but most importantly, I loved her praise. My dad hadn't given praise easily. The first time I successfully took apart and reassembled the carburetor of a Mustang, I felt a firm hand on my shoulder. A little squeeze was all it took to tell me that he has proud of what I had done. Even though, I was completing simple math problems and spelling three-letter words, it didn't matter. The shiver of pleasure and the warm feeling that seemed to overtake my body was something I was coming to crave. I knew that the craving was dangerous and that indulging in it could potentially cause further regression, but it was hard to ignore. I didn't get it from Eve or Greg. They knew better. If Eve or Greg thanked me for bringing my dish to the counter or some equally mundane task, I probably would have smashed the dish and come at them with the jagged shards. Or at the very least told them to fuck off. Mrs. Feinstein didn't give praise regularly, but because I was such a 'remarkable child', she gushed over my reading ability. Even from our first reading session, I realized I couldn't appear too smart. It would seem unnatural, and it could cause problems with my false identity. Mrs. Feinstein tried to convince Eve that I would be 'perfectly suited to the demanding and diverse Prescott Academy curriculum'. She urged Eve to take me on a tour of the school. After that, I knew that I needed to make more mistakes. I could show I was smart, but I couldn't be reading at a high school level at six years old. So, that's exactly what I did. When we returned to reading The Hound of the Baskervilles, I fudged more of the words, read slower and allowed Mrs. Feinstein to help me through the pronunciation of some words. It was Tuesday, and I was looking forward to returning to the mystery of the hound. A part of me thought that the hound wasn't real, that it was probably some trick, like an old Scooby Doo episode, but my imagination, at times, wanted to transform the animal into a beast, one with slavering jaws and red glowing eyes. "Would you like to start off today, Riley?" I nodded eagerly. I slowly read through a few sentences, taking my time to pronounce each syllable clearly. On certain words, especially the harder ones, I would purposely struggle, allowing Mrs. Feinstein to jump in and sound it out with me. While I enjoyed the praise I received, it was much better to have the former teacher read as she made the words jump off the page and stir my imagination. "Car ..." "Car ..." Mrs. Feinstein moved her finger to the word. "Sound it out, Riley." "Car" I looked down at the word and recognized each letter in it, but I couldn't pronounce it. I figured it was because I had never seen the word. The book was probably written at least a hundred years ago, so there were at least a few words I didn't recognize, but I was sure I had seen this one before. "Car! Fuck!" More worrisome, however, was the fact I couldn't say it. I knew what letters formed the word, but the letters, except for the first three, wouldn't link together into a discernible pattern. "Riley! Watch your language. Now, there's no reason to fret. This is a very difficult word. And of course, you're still learning to read. Why some adults would have trouble pronouncing it." I shook my head, blurting out, "But I know that word! I've seen it before. And I know how to read!" Mrs. Feinstein smiled gently. "Now, now child- you are far too hard on yourself. You can't expect to read the whole dictionary at your age. I know you are frustrated, but you can do this. The word is tricky. You actually pronounce the first three letters like CARE. It might seem like you should have three syllables, or word parts, but you only have two. The second part is pronounced RIAGE. It's a G, but when the word ends in an E it almost always has a J sound. Like cage and page." I nodded. "I know that. I know all that stuff. And I know that word. I know what it is. It's attached to a horse, and it brings people places." The old woman took off her glasses, allowing them to gently dangle from the chain around her neck. "Maybe that's enough reading for today. It's a gorgeous day outside, and your mom has left me a key. We can go and get your swimsuit. There's a splash park calling your name and a bench calling mine." I crossed my arms and lowered my head. "I don't wanna go outside." Outside the safety of the apartment, lived a mermaid named Cecily, along with a seemingly boundless imagination. Mrs. Feinstein began gently nudging me from her lap. "What's this all about then? You spent most of your day indoors at school today. It's a lovely day, and they'll be plenty of children your age. It'll be fun. Plus, young ladies that stay inside too long become part of the furniture. You wouldn't want to lay around all day as a duvet cover, would you?" My mom used to say "it'll be fun" when she would drag me to banking appointments or when she had to shop for clothes. Which usually involved her complaining about trying to fit her fat ass in a pair of pants two sizes too small. Mrs. Feinstein's words, however, carried excitement with them. As someone who moved often, I was usually happy to meet new people, especially if the previous town sucked. So, it was difficult to control my excitement at the prospect of meeting new kids, who would bring new games and ideas. Even more so, it was becoming harder to fight against my natural affinity toward kids Riley's age, especially girls. An earlier image from the waterpark returned, but this time, instead of being alone under the giant bucket, I was joined by others, who shrieked with me as the bucket dumped water on us. After that, we could play freeze tag in the sprinklers. I looked at my phone, which had been stuffed into the side pocket of my knapsack and considered texting Greg or Eve for the rescue. I quickly moved toward my bag, desperately trying to pull the phone from the pocket. The pocket itself was made to hold a small box of crayons at most, but my phone, which was practically a tablet in my hands, was wider than that. Greg had stuffed it in there, along with my 'homework' before leaving for work. "I wouldn't bring that to the park, Riley. It might be ruined. I still don't understand why your parents would purchase something so expensive for a child, especially when they can't afford after-school care. Now this is just me on a mighty tiny soap box. You know that I really enjoy our time together. I certainly don't want it to end." The old woman snatched up her cane. "But we can't stay another minute longer in here. I just know that your parents will come to get you and all they'll find will be a lovely white duvet and a dusty old lounger." For someone so old, I was surprised how strong she was. She easily pulled me away from my backpack, while using her cane to balance. Greg and Eve, other than when Eve helped me with my hair or when she dragged me from the beach, rarely put a hand on me. Like the non-existent praise, they lived much more comfortable and pain-free lives by making this notion a reality. Doubt began to batter my mind, and as the elevator rose to the second floor, I fearfully realized that I wasn't fighting Mrs. Feinstein because I desperately wanted to go to the park. I wanted to feel the same joy I had felt as Cecily. But, most of all, I wanted to be carefree and happy again. All the needles of doubt puncturing my mind would leave. Those same ones filling me with this sense that my body didn't match my brain, that I was some twisted science experiment, an inhuman nothing created in a laboratory- that I was a failure for giving in so readily to the serum and that I had let Ashley down. Mrs. Feinstein juggled the key and her cane, trying to maintain her balance while she fiddled with the lock. The super was way better in this building than mine, but the lock still needed some attention. The plunger wouldn't go down for Mrs. Feinstein, meaning she wouldn't be able to get the door opened, unless she did like Greg and forced it open. Eve had called for the lock to be fixed, but thankfully, it hadn't happened yet. I breathed a sigh of relief, and while I wasn't eager to return to the Hound of the Baskervilles, it looked like I would be spared a trip to the splash park. Mrs. Feinstein said, "Darn it all, this lock doesn't want to cooperate!" I shrugged, trying to hide the fact that I was elated. "Well, we can just go back to your place." Mrs. Feinstein replied, "I suppose we have little choice. Don't worry though, Riley, I'll have your parents pack your swimsuit for tomorrow. It's supposed to be another scorcher! Oh and my granddaughters should be there. Sophia's been asking about you. Oh, and Emma was happy to have her doll back. Thank you for finding it." *** Thankfully, Eve had booked Wednesday off. I knew it would mean a double shift for her next week, but it was worth it if she could keep me away from Emma and Sophia. While our relationship had improved, I was still cautious around Eve. She still fell into 'mommy mode' more than I liked. "Ryan, it's not going to kill you. And you can pick out all your own stuff. You're going to need summer clothes." I was sprawled out on the couch, enjoying a marathon of slasher flicks. It was mindless, bloody fun- creative kills on dumb as fuck victims, many of them young women who thought running from a killer in high heels and a mini-skirt were excellent survival tactics. There were also plenty of naked boobs. While it sucked that I couldn't enjoy them any longer, I was glad, at the very least, that I still loved the gore. My eyes never left the TV screen as I spoke. "You know what I like. Nothing girly. Just plain t-shirts and shorts or whatever." A drill bored through a man's eye socket, blood spurting from the hole like water from a firefighter's hose. I laughed at the pure ridiculousness of the scene, especially when the hapless young man, the victim of a fiendish trap laid by the killer, attempted to drive in his condition. Seconds later, the windshield was covered in blood. Half- blind and now unable to see in front of him, the car struck a tree, ejecting him (no seat belt of course), into the waiting arms of the psychotic killer. Eve shook her head. "How can you find that funny? It's sick." I smirked. "It's fucking hilarious. The guy has saw blades for arms. It's all a big joke." Eve frowned. "I guess I don't get it, but I don't find dying funny. Maybe it's because I work in a hospital where I see it every ..." I rolled my eyes and sighed heavily. "Holy shit, Eve. It's just a movie." Eve watched the screen as a pair of working saw blades cut apart a terribly fake looking dummy. Each slice caused blood to spur forth from the 'corpse'. The blood exited the body like a high-powered shower jet. "It's very formulaic. The big boobed bimbo always dies after having sex. There is always a jump scare, but it is like a cat or a shadow, and then the killer pops out when they lower their guard." I laughed. "OK. Now you sound like Ashley. Yeah, a lot of them are the same. But there are some that really keep you guessing- horror mysteries. Those ones are honestly my favourite. Anyway, those rom-coms you watch are the same. It's just in this case, instead of wondering how people will get together, it's more about how they will die together. You know, by the hand of a guy with saw blade arms." Eve replied, "Do you think you'll get back into acting again?" I barked, feeling suddenly defensive, "Fuck, no. Not looking like this. Why do you even care anyway? I thought we were just talking about movies." Eve shook her head. "I meant after you turn back. You don't have to bite my head off over this. And I'm asking because you know, I'm trying to be your friend. I know you love acting- it would really suck if you gave it up." I shrugged my shoulders, my eyes still not leaving the television screen. "It takes more than passion and a love for the business. That's what I've seen. It takes connections and money- sometimes surgery- for me especially. Yeah, there's nothing like it in the world, but I was stupid to think that I even had a chance at all in the first place." Eve looked at me tenderly, or at least the same way she looks at a snack cake before devouring it. The process usually involving her plunging her fingers into the moist centre and ripping it in two, causing the chemical goo to leak out onto her hand. By that point, her fingers are usually covered in chocolate, even caked on underneath her nails. Nasty, hurtful words came to my lips, but they never left them. I wasn't certain if it was the time we had spent together on the beach, the fact that I had opened up to her, or the continued effects of the serum, but I couldn't bring myself to insult her. What had been a natural reaction, especially during something as simple as a discussion/argument concerning movies, was no longer like a second nature. In fact, it felt wrong, and once again, that deep chasm opened up in my belly bringing on powerful feelings of guilt. Eve said, "You are too hard on yourself, Ryan. You have real talent. Yeah, you can deliver lines well, speak clearly and with emotion, but more than anything, you can tell a story. And you can make anyone believe that what they are seeing is real. Even me." My eyes gradually shifted toward Eve, away from the movie for the first time. "Bullshit. I get what you are doing, Eve. You're trying to make me feel better because of what happened at the beach." Eve replied, "Not everything is a game between people. A back and forth to see who 'wins'. I told you why I asked you. I'm not trying to one up you or dig up painful memories. You can tell me to fuck off after, but let me say something first." I shrugged, clearly uninterested, but Eve took this as the green light. She sat down on the arm of the couch. "You remember that tiny theatre off Burbank? The one with the leaky roof and the soiled carpets?" I nodded. "Yeah. It was a shit hole. It used to be a movie theatre but a broke as fuck theatre company decided it would be a good idea to turn it into a playhouse." Eve smiled. "Yes. It was the first play you ever invited us to. Well you invited Greg, but who else was he going to bring?" My eyes slowly rolled back inside my head. While I liked Eve more now than before my change, her sense of humour was still terrible. Despite my attempt at a facial expression that screamed "you are boring me to death", she continued. "It was a three act play, and there were only two characters. And to be honest, it wasn't a very good play. Part of it didn't make sense. The guy who was playing your brother kept forgetting his lines. And the whole ending just didn't work. But you know what did work? You. In a crappy play and in a building that should have been condemned, you killed that performance." "The part where you address the audience about your brother's death, it just blew me away. At first, I just couldn't believe that it was you. This was the same guy who, on the night that I met him, called one of my friends a 'grenade' to her face. In the play though, you were like a completely different person, and you sold me on that. If you can do that with me, you can do it with anyone- in any role." She said firmly, "I know you don't want to act now, but you shouldn't give up your dream. You have no idea how talented you are. How lucky you are that you can tell a story like that and bring people into it." I smirked. "Did you cry?" Eve smartly replied, "Nope. But Greg did. On the way home." I grinned, feeling warmth in my chest. "Really?" Eve nodded. "I had to drive." This caused me to burst out laughing, the high-pitched sound filling my ears to the point of embarrassment, but at the same time, a warm feeling spread from my chest to my entire body. Was I actually laughing at one of Eve's jokes? Eve smiled. "Wow. That serum actually gave you a decent sense of humour. So are you going to come to the store with me?" The laughter quickly left my body, the air sucked out like a fierce punch to the gut. "Won't it be weird though? If I'm trying on stuff from the boys section?" Eve frowned gently. "Well it shouldn't matter, right? You're not really a girl. Plus, not all girls like pink and unicorns and rainbows or whatever. I had a friend growing up who liked jeans and t-shirts. The only time I ever saw her in a dress was probably senior prom. Why do you even care about this kind of stuff? No one is forcing you or even asking you to dress in a way that might make you feel uncomfortable." She cleared her throat gently. "Especially me." A little smile appeared. "I guess Mrs. Feinstein talked to you about that, right?" Eve nodded. "Anyway, you really should come. It's going to get really hot in about a month. Plus, Mrs. Feinstein is going to think we are really poor if you are always wearing the same clothes." "But we'll shop in the boys section? Promise?" Eve looked down at me with growing concern. "Yes. Whatever you want. Whatever will make you feel comfortable. I promise, Ryan." I needed Eve to keep her promise. Ever since feeling genuinely pretty while wearing a dress, I had been extremely careful to stay away from anything frilly, lacy or sparkly. The dresses I brought from the studio were hidden at the bottom of the closet adjacent to the front door and would hopefully never again see the light of day. The dress, which birthed the word pretty into my vocabulary, was hanging in Eve and Greg's closet, ready for another fake birthday party or apology. As forthcoming as I had been with Eve lately, and especially in the last few days, I wasn't about to tell her that a part of me desperately wanted to shop in the girls section. I wanted to be the girl who was called pretty by the woman in the elevator. The one who was made to feel beautiful. And I wanted to hear the words again and again. It was the same part that threw a fit whenever the subject of hair cutting came up, and, strangely, also the one who thought shopping in the boys section would be weird. It was made worse, however, by the girls I had met, but most of all by my mindset. While I was telling myself that I didn't want to look like a fag, that same part, the one ingrained with the machismo of slick- talking gangsters and a father who expected his son to be like him, was inundated with images of the perfect girl- slim, long haired and feminine wearing dresses and skirts. While I knew who I was, because of my body, the thing inside me that wanted to be a pretty little girl with long beautiful hair had an ally. It was difficult to argue with myself, internally screaming pussy at the mere thought of a dress when I had the perfect body for it and believed that skirts were the ultimate and most attractive expression of femininity. I looked at Eve with what I hoped were steely eyes. "OK. Let's go." *** Since we weren't exactly swimming in cash, the outlet malls were the best bet because almost everything would be on clearance. My mom used to drag me to outlet malls for the same reason. I always thought my dad had a pretty important job in the army, but we never seemed to have enough money to buy the things I really wanted. I never realized just how poor we were until going to my friend's house just after Christmas- the one with all the video game systems. Holy fuck did he get a lot of shit. Where I got a Batman action figure, this kid got the Batman and the Batcave action playset, the one that transformed into Wayne Manor and cost probably like 150$. I got two packs of football cards, and this kid got three full sets. Not to mention, every single blockbuster video game for every system. I couldn't understand it either because they lived in the same army base housing that we did, which usually consisted of shitty townhouses. I heard they'd got better in recent years, but in the late nineties, they sucked- cramped, no backyard and with paper-thin walls. I asked my mom why we couldn't live in a nice house, and she said that it was because we moved too often. Later on, I found out that most banks didn't give one-year mortgages, and with the base housing available, it just made financial sense I guess. Still, it sucked being in such tight quarters with my mom. At least we had a garage, where my dad and I could just work on his Mustang for hours without being bothered. We turned into an enormous parking lot, easily the size of three football fields placed side-by-side. The stores themselves were neatly placed at the perimeter of the mass of concrete. Walking along the sidewalk, I saw mostly women pushing baby carriages. Although, along an opposite walkway, a group of old people blocked the sidewalk, moving at a leisurely pace and forcing the faster moving mothers to leave the sidewalk to go around them. I could see more seniors streaming out of three different tour buses. So, despite the amount of people, Eve had little trouble finding a parking space. I wasn't sure if Eve realized it or not, but she had chosen a spot directly in front of the Disney store. Was she doing this on purpose to test my willpower? While Eve undid her seatbelt and slung her purse over her shoulder, I was transfixed by the store display. The Frozen dress-up set, the same one from the commercial, was part of the window display. A lucky mannequin wore a blue and white dress with the two sisters, Anna and Elsa, stitched onto the front. Best of all, however, was the practically glowing ice palace, where the pretty Elsa doll looked out onto her kingdom of snow of ice. The palace was obviously plastic, but it looked so real. My imagination turned the hard plastic into a shimmering crystalized wonder. I had to have it. I wanted it more than anything in the world. "Oh. Shit. Sorry, about that Ryan." With a rapid click and shift, Eve buckled her seatbelt again and quickly reversed out of the parking spot. My phone was buzzing, but I ignored it. Even as we pulled away, even as the palace turned into a speck, my eyes never left the object. When it was completely gone from view, the image of the palace, with a dozen different colours reflecting from the glimmering surface, was burned into my mind. "There. This shouldn't be a problem." Eve had stopped in front of a Bed, Bath and Beyond, which even before my transformation I would have found terminally boring. I felt both relieved and saddened to be so far away from something that for a few short seconds I wanted more than a cure to my condition. Saddened, because I loved that my heart raced with excitement at the prospect of even being near to something so legitimately incredible, and relieved- for obvious reasons. We had no reason to go into the Disney store. Plus, Eve was going to keep me away from the clothing. I could just hold her hand and she would pull me away, pull me toward a world of muted colours, browns, greys and dark blues. Eve said, "You can do this, Ryan. Just fight it. Don't be what the serum wants you to be." Could she see the conflict in my features? My carefully built fa?ade, the one that hid emotions behind a cock-sure grin, was crumbling. Fuck. Was I really going to need to rely on Eve so much during a simple shopping trip? Images of Emma and Sophia in their dresses, in the pretty purples and pinks entered my mind, as well as serious doubts. Would they know I was wearing boys clothes? Would they make fun of me? Eve's phone rang in her purse, but she ignored it. The ring tone was some obnoxious dance song. No, no. It wouldn't matter. Why the fuck did I care how two little girls would see me? It was bullshit and nothing more- the serum playing games with my head, making me think that their acceptance and being exactly like them was vital. I took a deep breath. "OK. I'm ready." I was going to show the serum that it couldn't fuck with me. We went into the first store, and I marched toward the clothes section for boys. I picked out shorts and shirts, tried them on and didn't even look at anyone. For those fifteen minutes, I managed to stay completely focused. Eve's phone went off in her purse again as we left the store. Since I didn't have pockets large enough to accommodate my 'phablet', I had to leave mine in the car. I wasn't about to carry a fucking purse. Plus, it would have looked weird, like I was trying to be all grown up. Kids had backpacks with cartoon characters on them, but that wasn't happening either. Eve was unable to ignore the sales and with so many clothing stores, there were a lot of sales. Eve wasn't usually the type to go all crazy stereotypical. "oh my god" shopping, but she had her moments, especially when shoes were on sale. "Just five minutes in there, I promise." I sighed, knowing that I couldn't stay in the car. Kids my age didn't stay in the car alone. If they did, I'm sure someone would call the police, acting like that woman on the bus who forced the driver to try and walk me to what I thought was Greg's apartment. Instead, they were dragged into stores, waiting for parents as they tried on clothes, or in Eve's case shoes. Even if it had been a lingerie store- not that I wanted to think of Eve in French cut panties, a push- up bra and garters- I wouldn't have been excited. The scantily clad women posing in front of mirrors, some with perfectly rounded, toned asses and flat, trim stomachs, would do nothing to stir my interest. "Whatever." Eve sighed lightly. "Two minutes. I just want to see if they have these sandals in yellow." I rolled my eyes. "Why do you need two pairs of the same sandals?" Eve smirked. "Why do you need to keep buying the same video game? How many variations do you need on the theme of guns shoot kill?" I said, "Well they all play differently. Gears plays way differently from Halo or Call of Duty." Eve nodded. "Right. Well to me they all look the same. And come on, Ryan. How long did you date Hannah? She had to have more than one pair of shoes. Girls- well people, people buy different shoes to match. I have this cute top ..." I raised my head to the sky, closed my eyes and released a deep sigh. "I'm sorry I asked. Let's just get this shit over with." "Hang on, my phone is ringing again. Damn, it's Greg. And I've missed ten calls from him and three messages." "Hello? Greg, slow down. What are you talking about? Yeah we're just at the outlets. We're leaving in a few minutes." "What? Are you serious? Well yeah he's right here. OK. OK. We'll leave right now." I listened to the brief conversation with growing annoyance. It obviously involved me somehow, and like their bedroom discussions, I wasn't an active participant. I barked, "What's he saying? What the fuck is up, Eve?" I had wanted to sound irritated, but lacking the gruff tone and power of my male voice, my words swung upwards in a whiney lilt, which caused immediate embarrassment. As an actor, I had been able to choose my tone of voice to meet the needs of the scene. My vocal chords were tempered, focused tools of the craft, but now, when with even a hint of emotion, my defences, calm- cool- resolved- they were battered. Eve looked genuinely spooked, her eyes darting in a hundred directions at once. A group of old people sauntered toward us, and Eve snatched my hand and pulled me into the car, but this time, she pulled me into the back seat. My patience, which wasn't fantastic before, had become almost non- existent since the change. I stayed in the front seat. I screamed. "Fuck you, Eve! You are going to tell me what the fuck is going on! I'm not sitting in the back either. What gives, Eve?" Eve said sternly, "Put your seatbelt on, now. We have to get out of here. And you shrieking at me like a brat isn't going to help our situation any." I replied, "Sure, and you looking around like you think there's a sniper on us is really helping things I'm sure. What the hell is happening, Eve? Is it something about the studio? Ms. Daniels? Is she here?" My imagination immediately began filling in the blanks. Ms. Daniels, like some reincarnated horror movie villain, was back, and she was looking for her sweet Kaylee. Fear didn't merely creep into my brain, it stabbed it, piercing any rational thought. Eve looked back at me with wide eyes. "Sorry, OK. Here. Just look at this link Greg sent me." She handed me her phone, just as I started to shake. I held the device unsteadily, as images of Ms. Daniels holding my head underwater played in my mind. Eventually, she pulled Kaylee away from the drowned, bloated body of Ryan Sullivan. The fear entered every fibre of my being as my breathing took on a staccato rhythm, while my chest tightened to the point where it felt like invisible hands were trying to collapse it. Eve shook her head and took the phone from my shaking hands. "Ms. Daniels isn't here." Eve's words had an immediate calming effect. I felt my breathing slowly return to normal. "She's...well from what you told me. She's in the video, and it's from the studio. She looks like she's about twelve or thirteen. And she's holding this baby in her arms. The kids from the studio that you described are taken out of there by child protection services." I said, "So what? We already knew that. And we told the media about it. Only the trash papers ran the story." Eve said gently. "Well, it's- look at that link. It's from CNN. And they don't mention anything about the serum or Dr. Travers. It's all about a greedy studio using orphans to get around paying child actors fair salaries under that new law. The police have laid charges on Tracy. She's being blamed for the whole thing." I nodded slowly. "OK. But I was hiding in a car. And I waited for everyone to leave before I got out. I mean I'm not really surprised they are putting all this on Tracy. They can't exactly put it on Travers or Daniels. It's pretty obvious who the baby is, considering how many times..." I bit my lip gently as the scene from the real-life horror movie replayed- the needles piercing skin, jabbing into bone, eliciting inhuman howls of pain. "You don't understand, Ryan. Here." Eve turned her phone around so I could see the display. Plastered over the front page of CNN's site was a picture of a pretty little blonde girl with two cute pigtails. A human-sized orange hippo had his paw on the girl's shoulder while she smiled at the camera. Above the photo in massive capital letters was the following: KAYLEE SMITH MISSING- POLICE SEARCH FOR SIX-YEAR OLD AS FORMER CAPTOR FACES LENGTHY JAIL SENTENCE IF CONVICTED *** "Are you guys, OK? Were you followed?" "Yeah. There's a SWAT team and black helicopters waiting outside. Come on, man. Stop acting like a fucking pussy. No one has probably even made the connection. There's tons of little girls out there who look like Kaylee. And because Travers and Daniels are so screwed up, it's not like they are going to tell anyone who I actually am. So there's no link to you guys." Greg was frantic. He had put all the blinds down in the apartment. A dozen newspapers were scattered over the floor. The young man held a coffee cup between two shaking hands as he stared intently at a computer screen. The two used coffee filters on the kitchen counter told the story of man who needed to fucking pull it together. Greg put the coffee down and ran to Eve's side, bringing her into a fierce hug. "You were freaking me out when you weren't answering your phone. I thought someone had recognized Ryan and you'd been arrested." Eve returned the hug. "It's OK, Greg. I really don't think anyone paid attention to us at the outlets. We just kind of blended in." Greg nodded, looking tremendously relieved. "The story is all over the news. I just-just don't get why it broke now. Tracy's been in custody for months. I didn't think the police could just keep you locked up without saying what you did wrong." Eve replied, "Well based on what I read, it looks like some documents were leaked to the media. I'm guessing that it was hidden originally to protect the involvement of the major players. It does seem suspicious that they would choose now to leak the info though." I said, "Not to side with Mr. Paranoid here, but he's kind of got a point. It's pretty obvious that they are trying to tie up the loose end- me. They haven't been able to find me, so now they are hoping they can just use someone else to do it. So they just come up with the story that makes the most sense. They aren't going to go with the serum because it's not believable. Maybe they are charging Tracy now hoping she will tell them where I am." Eve said, "That all makes sense, but if this is the government, then they know we moved. The people who did this to you know who we are. They sent Greg e-mails from your phone. So why haven't they just shown up here to take you away?" I shrugged my shoulders, and moments later, the conversation fizzled. None of us had answers to the problem at hand, other than keeping our respective mouths shut, but I knew that the discussion for Greg and Eve was hardly over. Considering they would be discussing my fate, I didn't feel bad about sliding my phone underneath their bedroom door and recording the whole thing. Thankfully, their bed faced away from the door, so they would never see the "bug" I planted. Eventually, I saw the light go out and moved to quickly retrieve my phone. Less than a minute later, I was sitting on the couch with my ear buds in listening to every word they had said about me. "What are we going to do now, Eve? What if someone recognizes Ryan?" "We make sure that doesn't happen. Until we figure out what to do, he shouldn't leave the house. Even for a minute." "Doesn't that look really suspicious? And what are we going to do about Mrs. Feinstein? It's going to look really weird if we just decide to keep Ryan home. He's not exactly good at staying quiet either." "Alright. Yeah, you're right. He should keep going to Mrs. Feinstein's place in the afternoon." "But Eve that doesn't fix things. It's almost the end of the school year. Ryan will have to go to Feinstein's full time. Or you're going to have to start bringing him to the hospital. Either way it's definitely going to make things a lot riskier. We have to think about what might happen if someone does recognize him." "Well we are the ones that took him in. He said he was lost or something. We were protecting him." "So, a six year old girl comes to our door saying she is lost. Or that she's run away from an evil studio. Why didn't we call the police? And what if they know we went into the studio?" "Because we believed her. We couldn't trust anyone involved, not until we found out the truth. And we found the truth in the studio, so we decided to keep her safe until...until we could figure out what to do." "I don't know about that, Eve. The more I think about it- the more I think- we should-" "What, Greg? Tell someone? Tell the police? You heard what Ryan said. The government knows about this. Or at least someone in the government does. They are going to try and cover it up by putting all the blame on Tracy and erasing Ryan. I don't know what the answer is right now, but we can't tell anyone." "I'm a bit worried you aren't seeing things clearly, Eve. I know you care about him. And, I mean it's obvious that something has happened between the two of you to change your relationship- but I'm not sure this is the right way to go. I want to protect him as much as you do, but it's not simple. For one, we aren't even his real parents. And it's not like we can just adopt him." "Why not?" I slowly reached down and paused the sound recording app, while my jaw tried to staple itself to the floor. I plucked the buds from my ears and closed my eyes, as my phone fell from my grasp, wedging itself firmly in between the couch cushions of my makeshift bed. A warm feeling entered my body, similar to how I felt when Eve helped me with my hair, or when she rubbed sun screen on my shoulders at the beach- or when she just smiled at me. It was being tucked in at night, kissed on the cheek and saved from the monsters that lived under the bed. It was being loved. But- could all of it exist while being Ryan Sullivan? *** Chapter 19 "Breakfast! Breakfast is ready, baby girl!" A young woman, dressed as a nurse, gently stirred a pot of oatmeal. She smiled and reached over the stove toward the spice rack, quickly adding a dash of cinnamon to the pot. Moments later, a bleary eyed little girl entered the kitchen. A pair of shiny black ballet flats tromped across the floor toward the kitchen table, neither graceful nor poised. Twin blonde pigtails bobbed as the girl pulled herself onto a chair, her legs, encased in smooth white stockings, dangled just above the floor. "Fix your skirt, baby girl." "Mommy, don't call me that. Kids make fun of me. Like at the beach. They called me a baby." The young woman leaned down and gently kissed the little girl's head. "I'm sorry, Kaylee. I've called you that for so long it's hard for Mommy to change. How about Mademoiselle Kaylee?" The woman gently pulled the girl's skirt down, so that it covered her knees. The pink and purple floral patterned skirt flared outward. It perfectly matched the sleeveless striped blouse emblazoned with the girl's favourite Disney twosome. The little girl giggled. "No! That's bad too." A second later, the girl adopted a severe look, with pursed mouth and gently furrowed brows, she said, "I'm in first grade now, Mommy. Can't you just call me, Kaylee?" The young woman poured oatmeal into a bowl and added some sliced banana and strawberries to the mix. She set a faded pink plastic beside the girl. The utensil was once adorned with pretty Disney princesses, however; the countless dishwasher loads had chipped away at the images, leaving the characters unrecognizable. "No. I don't wanna eat with that spoon. I want a metal one." Again, the young woman couldn't help but smile. However, as she deposited the grown-up spoon next to her daughter, she couldn't contain a soft sigh. "I want the marsha mellos that daddy eats in his cereal." The young woman shook her head. "Nope. But you can have a little bit of brown sugar. Just a bit for taste." A careful teaspoon dropped a dollop of brown sugar, and the girl rapidly dug into her breakfast. "Slow down, Kaylee. The school's not going to fly off to the moon while you eat breakfast." The little girl giggled, but this laughter ended with a light yet discernible snort. "You're funny, Mommy." The young woman tousled the little girl's hair. "I know, baby girl." After breakfast, the young woman walked the little girl out to the bus stop. Young children laughed, while older looked on with a sense of dread. Anxious parents stood, some holding the hands of their children, others allowing a measure of space- but most only a foot. Soon enough, a bright yellow school bus peaked over the tall hill at the end of a cull- de-sac with row upon row of nouveau-style brick houses. The school bus door swung open, while nervous parents of kindergartners hugged them as if it was their last day on earth. The young woman reached out, but the girl with the twin pigtails was already lining up to get on the bus. The young girl looked back at the young woman and waved happily, but seeing the woman with downcast eyes and slouched shoulders, she quickly jumped into her arms. "It'll be OK, Mommy. I'll see you and daddy tonight." A tiny tear leaked from the young woman's eyes. "I know, baby girl. I know." The little girl broke the embrace and hopped onto the school bus. She waved happily from a window seat. I watched the entire display. It was sort of like a video game with a first-person perspective, but instead of controlling it, I was just along for the ride. I couldn't describe it as a movie, as they only engaged two senses. The smell of cinnamon in the oatmeal and the light perfume, a sweet almost airy flavour that screamed housewife who wasn't getting any- it was all too real. But this was nothing like the sudden warmth I felt when the little girl hugged her mother. The warmth was not heat, unlike a blanket covering a shivering form, it elicited a response from my heart. I knew heartache, at least as long it took for me to find another girl, and another, to fill the void left by Hannah, but this was something else entirely. My heart, my chest, my brain- everything was filled to bursting with an overwhelming sense of love- to give and receive it in an immeasurable fashion. The only thing similar to it was the intense, incredible high I got from sex, but it wasn't lust, the hard wrenching of parts, stares and longing, until the moment of climax, and then nothing- no, it was something real. Lasting. And that's why it scared the fuck out of me. Because it didn't exist. To me it had to be the serum, and I was staring at my future if I embraced this world. The moment I realized this, the dream turned to a nightmare. The idyllic image persisted, the little girl on the bus, chatting happily with friends, excitement about a new school year- it was all a farce. A creation of the serum. And somehow, as I entered a half-dreaming state, the memory of Eve and Greg's conversation crept within, and I screamed. "Ryan! Are you OK?" Soft hands were on my naked back. California had to be going through one of the worst heat waves in history, which had resulted in a serious drought and multiple wildfires, but Eve and Greg wouldn't splurge on an 80$ air conditioner from Wal-Mart. So, I slept in shorts. I retreated from the touch, quickly scrambling to other side of the couch. My eyes were so wide they felt dilated. "Ryan, what's wrong? You don't look good." There was genuine concern in her voice. She sounded exactly like she had in the dream. "How many times have we been over this? Don't fucking treat me like that. You know it fucks with my head." "Is this about the news, Ryan? The whole thing with the studio and Tracy?" Eve kept her distance from me, but it wasn't far enough. I wanted about a two state separation between us- or even better- the entire Midwest. "All this shit about adopting me. And making me go to school. It's bullshit, Eve. You know I can't be around kids. Is that what you want, so you can just stop dealing with me? So I'll be your little fucking baby girl?" Eve flicked on the kitchen light and then took a position at the opposite end of the couch. She sighed heavily. "Were you standing at our door with a glass pressed to your ear?" I shook my head fiercely. "Fuck, no. What is this the seventies? You know our phones are basically the perfect bugs, right? Anyway, I want to know what you two are planning to do. But there's no fucking way I'm going to school." Eve frowned. "I guess I'll kind of ignore the whole spying and trust thing because we should have had the conversation with you. So yeah, we talked a bit about trying to adopt you. Greg mentioned school, but I shot him down. I said we would figure out a way to keep you home. We have no intention of sending you to school." "That's bullshit, Eve. I know that you're lying. You're going to send me to school to erase me because you don't want to deal with me. You seemed really happy about it too. I'm telling you that I'm not going. So what's the plan, you going to just casually forget to book off a Wednesday or two and leave me with Emma and Sophia and by September I'll be all ready to go?" The frown on Eve's face deepened, but her jaw also jutted slightly. She grit her teeth back and forth, until another heavy sigh escaped from her body, setting the entire structure in motion. "Ryan. I'm not even sure where to begin. You recorded our conversation, so you know that none of what you are saying is true. I'm just- I'm not sure what to tell you." I expected her to lash out, to absolutely lose her shit at being called a liar, but she just looked at me with serious concern. "What the fuck, Eve? Don't you have anything to say about this? It's true isn't it?" Eve slowly shook her head. "No, Ryan. None of it is true. You know how I feel about our situation. I don't want to be your mother, and as much as a 'delight' as you can be, I don't want you as my 'baby girl' either. The adoption is to protect you, so we have an actual right to keep you. And it's also to make certain that the only person who knows the truth, who experienced the plot first hand is able to tell their story." Before I had a chance to answer, Eve asked me. "What was your dream about?" I blinked and replied, "School. And you, and we were in a big house. You made breakfast for me. It was- it was the first day of school- and-" I remembered Eve telling Greg a boring story about some kid at the hospital. She was convinced that a snake was in her bed, slithering between the sheets towards its prey- the little girl who was terrified of snakes. She woke crying, more like bawling to the point of being inconsolable actually. Based on the description the girl gave, it was obvious she had a dream and repeated viewings of the Jungle Book may not have been a good idea. Still, Eve checked the bed for a massive boa constrictor, along with the closet, the curtains, and even the bathtub- but there was no sign of it, but still, the girl believed it was there, waiting in the shadows for her to go to sleep. The solution? Eve actually switched her room for the night. I was only half paying attention at the time, but it made me think of something that happened to me as a kid. Instead of a snake, it involved the annual car show. My dad and I went each year, but that year he couldn't go, so my mom was going to take me. I was still pretty young, so I didn't really care, but what I did care about was when she told me we couldn't go. She insisted we could still go, but I had a hard time trusting her. Of course, it was all a dream- a nightmare world where my mom locked me in my room while all my friends got to see the new Mustangs and supercars. "It's just a dream, honey. I promise we'll still go tomorrow." And we did. Realization struck me like the moment you know you are lifting too heavy, that embarrassing second when you have to slowly and sometimes painfully lower the weight and reduce the load on the machine or the barbell. Eve said nothing. She turned from me, slowly shaking her head. I felt my cheeks burn as I cleared my throat lightly. "OK. So- maybe I owe you an apology." Eve nodded. "Greg and I are on your side, Ryan. But we have to trust each other. That means no more recording our conversations." I opened my mouth, but once again, Eve quickly jumped in. "And we'll involve you more when we are talking about you specifically. You're right, Ryan. You should have a say in all this. I mean if you don't want to be adopted, we can try and figure something else out. But if the government finds you, we won't be able to do anything if they take you away. We don't have any right to you." I asked, "If you start the adoption process aren't you basically telling the feds exactly where I am?" Eve shrugged gently.