Irish Eyes – Chapter Three

 

This must be what it’s like to be on top of the world, Gwen Foley thought as she stood vigilantly over her husband’s comatose body like an emperor penguin watching over its egg in a winter storm. She watched Michael’s eyes, cold, closed to the world, waiting for any sign that the man she married was still inside. She desperately wished to see the warmth of the man that would do anything for his son, the man that swept her off her feet in college with his charming accent, the man that no matter how busy he got, always made sure to remind his wife that he loved her. The wretch before her was not this man. He was a stranger that shared all of her husband’s faults and none of his strengths. She thought, perhaps, that she was seeing him for the first time.

Good intentions could not make up for the fact that he was married more to his job than to her in recent years, nor could it make her forget the countless times that he missed the most important moments in Cael’s life. She had been the one that taught him how to read, how to tie his shoes, how to ride his first bike, how to drive. She was the one that took him to baseball practices, that made sure she was at every single one of his games, that sat beside him on draft day waiting for his name to be called. Most of all, she remembered the greatest mistake of their marriage. A dark cloud had come back to haunt their family and here she was left to deal with it on her own. How could Michael abandon her at such a critical moment? She wanted to place her hands around his throat and strangle him for leaving her with such a burden to carry.

Negativity was taking hold. There was no change in Michael’s condition for days and all the online research told her that the situation would become increasingly bleak the longer that it persisted. She wanted answers. She needed to know if she needed to start thinking about pulling the plug. It was not a pleasant thought, and it made Gwen a bit sick to think about ending a loved one’s life. She felt even guiltier when she wondered what would be best for her and Cael. Would prolonging his life delay the inevitable darkness or would it come no matter what she did?

1:17 AM, a the bedside clock read in bright blue digits. She was abusing the system, taking advantage of the understaffed hospital during its late hours, but she had good reason to be there. She was waiting for the attending physician. It may have been a strange hour to meet him, but she did not want to run the risk of Cael being there to hear it.

Dr. Tennant was already twenty minutes late for their meeting when he arrived. This was the first chance she had to see the doctor as a real human being rather than the sweating, disheveled mess he appeared to be when they first met. He was a bit on the short side, though not as much as Cael’s friend, Trip, and he had a healthy head of mousy brown hair with streaks of grey taking hold over his ears. It made him look distinguished, and she felt a brief tinge of jealousy that she was stuck dying her hair to keep her attractiveness when men could just let things fall as they may. He still had a certain easy-going quality about him that annoyed her too. As he pushed his glasses up the brim of his nose, she thought it to be rude to not have a more serious look on his face. Then again, one could say that she did not exactly look like she was grieving in a red wine-colored sweater and skinny jeans. She would argue that periods of mourning were no time to stop looking presentable.

“You’re late.” She muttered as the doctor greeted her.

“Sorry about that, I was in a consult for another patient.” He responded, trying to take on a more earnest tone once he saw that she was not in a good mood. “I assure you, Mrs. Foley, that I did not intend to be late, but I am on call tonight. Now, what is it that you wanted to ask me?”

“I want you to tell me the truth. We’ve waited patiently and you have yet to give us a real answer. Michael’s not going to wake up, is he?”

“We don’t know that for sure.” He let out a deep sigh. “Yes, the prognosis does not look good for him right now, but it is not out of the realm of possibility for him to still recover. Some patients spend years in a coma and manage—”

“I can’t go through this for years, Doctor. I may not look it, but I’m having trouble eating and sleeping, and it’s only been a few days since the accident. Imagine what I’ll be like in a few months time. I know you want to give me hope, but I’m an adult. Treat me like one. What chance does he really have?”

Earl Tennant’s eyes drifted away from Mrs. Foley’s. This was the hardest part of the job and he just could not look a woman in the eyes and give her bad news.

“Very well then; with the amount of brain damage your husband suffered and the lack of response to stimulus thus far, I would say that he has less than a ten percent chance of coming out of this with any sort of motor functions. We can usually estimate after twenty-four hours what sort of chance a patient has, and I would be surprised if Michael got through this. Right now, the machines are doing the living for him.”

Gwen remained silent. Hearing that Michael had little chance for survival should have been like driving a hot poker through her heart, but no emotions came. It was not registering in her mind quite what that meant. She surprised herself at how accepting of those words she had become. She knew the truth of the situation before it was said, but did this make her heartless? She thought otherwise. She was being realistic. This was some future death that was still weeks down the line. Most of the shock was used up that first night. She just nodded.

“Mrs. Foley, are you okay?” Dr. Tennant reached out and placed a hand on Gwen’s shoulder. It ended her dead stare abruptly.

“Yes, I was just thinking is all.”

“Good, then since we’ve already breached the subject, there is the matter of long-term care possibilities. We’re capable of taking care of Michael for as long as—”

“He doesn’t want to be a vegetable.” She interrupted.

“I see.” He replied in a flat tone, finding himself at another unpleasant subject. He wished he could get someone else to bridge these topics for him. “If you want to remove him from life support, I can get the necessary papers in order.”

“I don’t want to; I’m just saying that he doesn’t want to be a vegetable.”

“Well, then I suggest talking with those close to you before making the decision. It has only been a week, and there is still hope. He might not have shown any signs of improvement, but he also has not shown any signs that he’s getting worse. In another week or two’s time, who knows? There could be progress.”

“Thank you, Doctor. I’ll talk to my son. It might sound cold, but this isn’t something I want hanging over our heads with the holidays coming up. If I make the decision, I suspect that it will be soon.” She stated, shaking the doctor’s hand.

“Take care, Mrs. Foley.”

Gwen let her feet carry her swiftly down the corridors of the hospital, her heavy black heels clicking against the linoleum and made far more noise than they would have with less empty halls. As she approached the second floor stairwell, she noticed that her footsteps were echoing back to her. She stopped abruptly in the middle of the hall and listened. The noise became more distinct, reminiscent of a hoofed animal trotting toward her. She waited for the source to show itself, but instead it started to trail off right after reaching its crescendo, as if the bearer of the sound had passed right by her. When she turned to look back over her shoulder, she heard a horrible death whinny. The sound of an enraged horse in the middle of a hospital gave her pause. She wanted to chalk it up as a stress-induced delusion, but the sounds that followed would shake her very being.

“Code Blue, Room 212,” a woman’s voice announced over the public address system.

She stood frozen in the hallway and stared in horror as doctors and nurses rushed into her husband’s room. She had just been there not two minutes ago and he was fine, and now this. Things like this were not supposed to happen. She was sure that her heart would explode if she did not do something. Her only instinct was to rush to Michael’s side. Panic stricken, she dropped her purse right where she stood and sprinted down the hall as quickly as her thick-heeled shoes would carry her.

“He’s fading!” She heard Dr. Tennant’s voice as she turned the corner.

The medical team was desperately trying to revive Michael, but all she could hear was the droning tone of his EKG flat-lining. It pulsed through her brain and she began to hyperventilate. Her thoughts screamed at her until she could take no more and then she mimicked their cries in blood-curdling fashion. She slumped to her knees in a fit of tears, helpless to stop the doctor’s call.

“Time of death is 2:08 AM.” He announced and then pulled the bedsheet over Michael’s eyes.

 

***

 

Cael’s phone was ringing. The sci-fi sound effects and sounds of horses charging at the opening of Muse’s Knights of Cydonia reminded him of the strange man at the hospital earlier in the week. He made a note to change it the first chance he had. He could do without hearing any horses for a few weeks. The caller ID showed a picture of Jimmy doing a shot between some faceless girl’s breasts. He quickly checked the time. It was just after one in the morning.

“Caeeeeeeel, what’s up, my white brother?” Jimmy shouted into the phone.

“You’re drunk dialing me, aren’t you?”

“What gives you that idea, bro? I’m just having a little fun. I’m here with your girl and Trip and the bars just closed. We were thinking about kicking it at your place the rest of the night, whatcha think?” Jimmy was slow to respond, his slurred speech coming after a long pause. The rest of the phone call would continue this way.

“No, I’m too busy being sad to deal with shit, and seriously, no Tracy again? She’s like a ghost lately.” Cael slumped down on the couch in his mother’s living room, the spectral glow of the television set illuminating the room.

“No shit, dude.” It seemed obvious to Jimmy why she was missing. “Her and Brooke aren’t on speaking terms right now, where have you been?”

“I’ve been scratching my balls on my mom’s couch, where do you think I’ve been? I’ve been at the damn hospital all week. Brooke never told me anything about this.”

“She probably don’t wanna bother you with her shit when you’re already acting like you are.”

“How’s she doing?” Cael asked, concern creeping into his voice. He was actually starting to feel guilty that he was neglecting his girlfriend when she was going through a falling out with her best friend. Maybe he was spending too much wallowing by himself.

“She’s okay, man. Trip’s been keeping her mind off it.” Jimmy responded quietly. “Anyway, what the Hell are you up to right now? You’re not there drinking by yourself, are you?”

“No, I’m not an alcoholic. I’m just sitting around watching Animal Planet. There’s some sick shit that people do to dogs.”

“Are you sure that you don’t want us to come over? I’m all for watching some funny animal videos when I’m high, but sitting around watching that stuff when you’re sober sounds boring as fuck. You know we’re trying to be there for you, bro.”

“I’m fucking positive. I’m tired already, Jimmy, and I don’t want to be hungover for classes tomorrow. Besides, didn’t you guys get the memo the last two nights when I said no?” Cael silently wondered why they needed to go out on a Sunday night anyway, but he knew he probably would have been right by their sides if he was not still so depressed. “I’ll make you a deal, I’ll go out with you guys this weekend, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” Jimmy was disappointed. “Just make sure you keep in touch, especially with Brooke. Things are just too odd without you here.”

After hanging up, Cael tossed his phone onto the arm of the couch and then spun himself around so that he could recline on the couch. Dressed in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts, he scratched at the small trail of hair that extended from his navel down to his waistline and then turned the volume up with the remote. It was nearly two now, which meant that the next show was about to start. Cael hoped for something a little more cheerful after watching some animal cop show that seemed to be nothing but abused animals.

He was soon greeted by a furry pal in the form of Mask, the family cat, who got his name because of the black fur around his eyes on an otherwise white face. Mask was already purring when he arrived and started to knead into the bare flesh of Cael’s sparsely-hairy chest. Cael quietly winced in pain from the feline’s tiny claws, but let the cat continue until he lay down.

“Hi there, Maskimillion, are you a good kitty?” He stroked Mask’s fur, scritching behind his ears and under his chin, which the cat was all too grateful for. “Yes, you are. You’re a pretty kitty.”

It was amazing how even the toughest of men could become a kind-hearted, baby-talking slave in the presence of a cute cat or dog. Cael was no exception and had a litany of nicknames for Mask, most of which had nothing to do with his actual name.

“While not all kisses can turn a frog into a handsome prince, there are miraculous transformations in the natural world, but which one goes through the most change? We count down the top ten most extreme transformers of animal kingdom, to find the shapeshifter that undergoes the most makeovers.” The narrator of the program announced. “Discover that the best transformers are those animals with the most bodies when transformation is taken to The Most Extreme.”

Cael grinned as the program started. Lists and countdowns were always good for some mild entertainment and it was certainly more palatable than the depressing animal cop show. He watched as the video showed pictures of an arctic fox, some rainbow-colored fish and a caterpillar.

“Earth is a planet of extremes; extreme places and extreme animals, but some animals are more extreme than others. Join us as we countdown to find the most unusual, the most extraordinary, The Most Extreme.”

Cael laughed to himself at how often the narrator said the word ‘extreme’ as the countdown started. Even with the program underway, a late night snack seemed to be in order. Cael surmised that he could keep track of the show and procure something tasty from the refrigerator at the same time, so Mask was pushed aside. The microwave’s clock read 2:07 AM when Cael decided on a sandwich made from his mother’s meatloaf and a glass of milk.

As he filled his arms with the ingredients for his snack, his body tingled and began to numb. He was experiencing the same sensation he received after lying on his arm for too long, but it spread to every nook and cranny of his being. The plate slipped between his fingers, which had become too numb to hold on to.

“Son of a bitch!” He cursed and bent over to pick up the shattered plate right as the numbing feeling changed to the prickling of pins and needles associated with an electric shock. His phone began to ring again, desperately wanting to be answered as alarms triggered in his head. He yelped a little bit as there was a particular part of his body where the itching was not welcome. It was just his luck that it was strongest in just that place.

Before he could make sense of it though, his pelvis erupted in white hot anguish. He was sure that he was being torn apart as his knees buckled and he collapsed into a heap on the ground. Milk splashed from its jug and into a puddle on the floor. Cael writhed on the ground as his hips stretched to their limit. The skin seemed as if it would crack under the pressure as he groaned in agony. He had felt bloated before in his life from eating too much, but this was so much worse. This was alien bursting through the chest bad. The pain lasted for several minutes before it slowly started to subside, giving him just enough time to compose himself and take notice that he could feel his pelvis through his skin. He wanted to throw up as he inched his way toward the phone he had left on the arm of the couch.

He only made it about half way there, dragging himself along the floor through the mess of his lost meal. The second round was different and yet even worse than the first had been. Where as the pain in his pelvis felt like he would be ripped apart from the inside, the new one was like his body was being crushed and compressed by some outside force. Cael’s head was experiencing the worst of it, his jaw and skull being pressed tightly as if in a vice. He felt it from his skin, to his muscles, all the way to his bones. It was as if he was trapped in a trash compactor that wanted nothing more than to shape him into a tiny cube. The room seemed to get bigger around him and besides the discarded food, he was also now covered in heavy sweat. His pores were practically crying, which is what he desperately wanted to do, but the air was being strangled out of his throat, leaving him only able to manage a squeak.

The second try met with more success, but the scream that escaped his lips was not his own. It was high-pitched and breathy, although both conditions could easily be attributed to his lack of breath. Still, with the the python-like suffocation of his body diminishing, it scared him enough that he clasped his hand to his throat. When he did, the new slender shape of his hands and fingers made his breath quicken. What was happening? He needed help and he needed it quickly, but like before, the moment he reached for his phone the next round of torture was underway. Something was squirming around in his midsection. The thoughts of an alien inside of him no longer were far fetched, as he became sick to his stomach. Cael clutched at his abdomen and found a welt beneath his hands, one that was writhing its way down past his now loose boxers and spreading out amongst his hips, thighs and buttocks. The alien feeling inside of him stopped, but his lower half felt heavier as a result.

His bones still ached as he was able to wobble to his feet for the first time. His center of gravity was completely thrown off and there was still the sensation of being pinched inside around his now narrower waist. He panted as he robotically picked up his cell phone and then limped to the bathroom, using the walls to keep himself supported. Glimpses of his body revealed that his hands were not the only part of him that was thinner and more svelte. Everything from his arms down to his feet seemed smaller.

He crouched over the toilet and tried to puke, but was left with dry heaves. What was worse was that the pinch in his abdomen trailed down until there was a sharp pain in his genitals as if he had just been kicked. He grasped at them only to feel his testicles shriveling in the palm of his hand like a pair of grapes turning into raisins. Panic stricken, his fingers prodded at his shrinking manhood. He could only lie there huddled in the fetal position as any remnants of his former sex were sucked up inside of him, leaving a vacuous, empty feeling behind. The shock of it all left him speechless.

Cael knew what was happening now, as improbable as it was, what he felt between his legs confirmed it. He was well on his way to becoming a she. In fact, where it counted the most, Cael was already female. The pain was gone, but the horror of the situation was still there. He, no, she was changing.

She was no longer the tall, muscular ballplayer she had been, this body was small and meek, or at least it seemed that way at the moment. She managed to prop herself up against the side of the bathtub, her narrow jaw tilting down to stare at her chest expectantly. The absurdity that she saw before her eyes was echoed in a fit of defeated laughter. It did not happen immediately, but over a few moments time, her chest budded, sending her through the moment most girls looked forward to in their development. The two mounds of flesh that she was left with were not received with open arms. To Cael, they were just the two most visible reminders of her new feminine prison.

The sparse black hair that populated her chest and abdomen fell loose with even the slightest jostle of her body. She brushed it away and was met with smooth skin, the kind that she always loved holding close to her when she was with Brooke. The gravity of what happened to her crashed down with that single thought.

She stared at the black screen of her phone for a long time, noticing the slightest hint of a reflection that showed her dark brunette locks creeping down past her ears. The girl staring back at her was a stranger. She slumped over and began to dial her mother’s number, stopping herself before she hit send and instead sending her a simple text message.

“Come home. NOW.”

 

***

 

Gwen barreled through the front door of her modern two-story home as if she was a caped crusader coming to save the day. That was not far from the truth, either. Her keys were left dangling in the lock with the front door wide open as Gwen’s motherly instinct took charge. She tried to call Cael numerous times from the hospital to give him the bad news about his father, but she got no response. While this was a usual occurrence and had happened as recently as the night of Michael’s accident, she did get a text message from Cael demanding that she come home. When she put two and two together, she could only suspect that Cael was in some kind of trouble that required her immediate attention.

Mascara-stained tracks trailed down her cheeks, branching out like a system of rivers and streams. They ended in smudges around her chin from where she had wiped away the salty droplets. Her eyes still stung from the long shear volume of tears that she expelled over the course of the night. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping her going as the enormity of what happened made her feel like she had not slept in days. The overwhelming sense of dread followed her home, making her fear the worst had happened to her son too. She was not going to allow both of her boys to be taken away from her in the same night.

The television was still blaring when she entered the living room, looking around the dark room for any signs of her son. The ghostly blue glow flickered like a strobe light as she frantically searched. The absence of her baby boy in his usual spot on the couch drove her further into the house.

As she stepped into the kitchen, her legs nearly came out from under her. The entire jug of milk had spilled out over the kitchen’s faux wood finished floor and she had just stepped into it. The shape it made was reminiscent of a painter’s palette with a chunk of leftover meatloaf acting as the thumb hole. Their cat, Mask, was helping himself to quite the snack of milk and meat. Amber light from the ajar door of the refrigerator highlighted the scene perfectly. Her kitchen’s chaotic state did nothing to allay her fears that Cael was in trouble. In fact, now she was sure that something was wrong. Why else would he leave the place in shambles?

“Cael!” She called out, caution be damned.

Flashes of horrible, nightmarish possibilities flooded her mind when Cael did not respond. She pictured him tied up and being held hostage, him lying dead in a puddle of his own blood, but the most terrifying thought was the possibility of something she could not imagine. This was all related to that Rourke fellow that Cael had seen at Michael’s bedside a week prior. It had to be. Her husband’s past mistakes were coming back to haunt them. Part of her knew that she could not push all of the blame solely on his shoulders and yet she found herself blaming the man for everything within an hour of his death.

She sighed and walked toward the hallway. Her ears picked up a sound so faint that a mouse could not have heard it, or at least she thought she heard something. Was that sniffling? She grabbed the remote and quickly muted the infomercial that was playing now that the station had gone off the air for the night. It was faint, but unmistakable, the sounds of frightened sniffling. They sounded like they were coming from a woman or a small child though. Gwen promptly raced down the hall to find the source.

It did not take long to find the open bathroom door where the weeping emanated from. Much like the rest of the house, the lights were kept off. Gwen cautiously stepped through the door and looked toward the bathtub where the shower curtains were drawn shut.

“Hello?” Gwen prodded for an answer, flipping the light switch to get a better look at the person that was sniveling in her tub. Was it possibly Brooke? Had she been there when Cael sent his plea?

“Turn off the lights!” A girl’s voice whined back at her between sobs. It did not sound like Brooke, but she still obeyed the stranger’s request and turned the lights back off.

She did not know why, but she was sure that the girl had something to do with Cael. In the way someone would treat a frightened puppy, Gwen lowered herself to the ground and sat by the side of the tub. She did not know how the cornered girl would react to her presence and wanted to ease into things as best she could. On the floor, she found clumps of hair scattered about as if she was sitting on the floor of a barber shop. She let the short strands fall through her fingers, wondering how they got there.

“Listen, I know you must be scared. I’m not sure what happened here, but I need your help.” Gwen spoke in a soft, motherly tone. “You must have been here with my son, Cael. Have you seen him?”

Cael huddled behind the shower curtain, unsure of what to say. She was fighting hard not to burst into tears, but the sniffles and stuttered breath kept coming. How does one tell their mother that they have been turned into a girl? She pulled her knees tight to her chest and tried to remain hidden at the back of the tub, as far away as possible from her mother. Even though this was what she wanted, she was still afraid of how her mother would react. It was difficult to believe that anybody could believe such an outlandish tale, and so she struggled to find the words.

“I…” She started, but could not force out the revelation that she was Cael.

Gwen took a breath to try and calm herself. She could sense the reluctance in the girl’s voice, but she also felt as if she wanted to tell her something. She needed to talk to her face to face. She was sure that she could get through to the girl that way.

“I’m going to open the curtain now. Please, stay calm. I’m not going to hurt you.” Gwen reassured.

“No,” she whined again. “Please, I don’t want you to see me like this.”

Cael shifted in the tub, her skin squeaking against the ceramic. She wanted to make sure that her back was to her mother when she opened that curtain. Fear and paranoia had taken hold of her and she hoped beyond reason that if she just ignored the situation it would go away.

What Gwen saw when she slid the plastic rings across the curtain rod was a bit of a shock. The girl herself was not extraordinary, but the fact that she was curled up in her bathroom in nothing but a pair of too baggy boxer shorts was. Otherwise, from what she could see, she seemed to be the same as any other girl in her late teens or early twenties. She was tall and lithe, but with the tone of an athlete. She suspected that the girl either ran track or did something else that required use of her long legs. The girl’s hair was about the same color as her own, a dark chocolate hue that could have been mistaken for black in the shadows. It dangled loosely about the girl’s shoulders, just long enough to give a stylist plenty to wok with, but it seemed unwashed or at least like the girl had just woken up. Gwen silently wondered why that look was actually popular in the Eighties. The mess of hair did serve one purpose though. It hid any bit of the girl’s face as she was turned away from Gwen.

“Oh, you don’t look too bad, sweetie. Now, why don’t you turn around so I can see you? You don’t need to be afraid. I’ll understand no matter what happened.” Gwen coaxed.

Cael turned her head, just enough so that her mother could catch a glimpse of her profile. She saw the comforting smile that she fondly remembered from when she was a little boy. It filled her with a warm feeling that she had long forgotten and made her think that perhaps she could find solace in her mother’s arms even if it did not last.

As the girl turned toward her, she took in her facial features. There was an instant feeling of familiarity, but she could not quite place it.

“Now see, that wasn’t so—” Gwen gasped. The more she looked into the girl’s eyes, the more it dawned on her. This girl was the spitting image of her or perhaps her sister when they were that age. Her nose had the same long profile that managed to still look feminine even though it was not the epitome of perfection. The shape of the jawline was similar as were the curves of her lips. The family resemblance was remarkable. Even the girl’s almond shaped blue eyes could be attributed to her father’s side of the family.

“Oh my God! You look just like—” The girl looked at Gwen as if she was waiting for her to make the connection. Gwen did not want to believe it though. Tears were starting to form in her eyes as she found Cael’s forest green cell phone clutched between the girl’s slender fingers.

“Cael?” It was as if her mouth was a few steps ahead of her mind as she spoke. It sounded absurd and yet somehow right.

Cael nodded, not able to say it herself. She was in a stand still with her own mother. The silence was long and awkward as they just looked at one another. As the minutes passed, the amount of tears streaming down her mother’s cheeks doubled. Cael wanted to throw herself into her mother’s arms, to let her protect her from the awful things that had transpired.

It did not take long for Gwen to convince herself that her suspicions were true. She could have eventually come to this same conclusion even with out the girl’s confirmation. The problem now was explaining this to her former son. Guilt bubbled to the surface as she contemplated keeping Cael in the dark. She had been right about their past coming back to haunt them, but she never could have imagined that it would reveal itself in this way.

“I’m scared, Mom.”

Finally, the tension between the two broke. Cael could no longer hold herself back and Gwen could no longer deny her the comfort that she needed. Uncovered emotions flooded Cael’s fragile mind as she was squeezed tight into her mother’s arms. She felt warm and more vulnerable than she had ever felt in her lifetime. This was what she needed and her mother sensed it. She would be safe as long as she had her mother to take care of her. At long last, tears poured from her ducts and she looked up into her mother’s reassuring eyes.

“Girls are allowed to cry, right?”

“Of course they are, dear.” Gwen could not help but smile at the rather childish remark from her now daughter. It was so innocent and unlike the child she knew, but she was glad to see her only child let loose her emotions. They were both weeping considerably, unleashing all the pent up suffering they had gone through over the week.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through this without me.” Gwen stroked her child’s back as she spoke. “I should have been here. I knew that something bad was going to happen, though I never expected this.”

Cael sniffled and wiped the tears away from her cheeks. She could not remember the last time she actually cried like that. She had always been taught that boys do not cry and so she always kept everything bottled up inside. It was refreshing to let it all out. Her mother’s statement struck a nerve, however. She was curious to know why she thought that something was going to happen.

“Do you know why this happened to me?” She asked, cutting short their tearful reunion.

Gwen’s face showed her apprehension to share. As much as she would have liked to hide it, it was there for all the world to read. She should have known better than to think she could keep secrets from Cael in light of what had occurred.

“Yes, at least, I think I do.”

Cael did not need to ask what it was, her expression did all the asking for her. Gwen took a deep breath and braced her daughter’s shoulders.

“Cael, you were a girl when you were born.” Gwen said with a straight face.

Cael was struck with skepticism. Even if that was true, that did not explain why she was female now. She very clearly remembered being male all her life. It was strange, but even after undergoing such an extreme transformation, it was a little bit hard to swallow.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well, it’s true. It will take a while to explain everything, but I guess it’s time you knew the family secret. Get cleaned up and dressed and then meet me in the living room. If I’m going to tell you our family history, I’d like to do it somewhere a little more appropriate.” Gwen stroked Cael’s cheek and then straightened herself out, leaving her new daughter with more questions than answers.

~ by Kacie Cross on November 13, 2008.