LOST IN TRANSITION
Prologue
Second Draft 10-18-11
Hello, my name is Christye Anne Cannon. I’m fourteen years old and I’m a girl. That last bit about the girl thing shouldn’t have to be explained, but then you haven’t met my family yet.
I don’t notice things – unless they have to do with me of course. The first time dad wore a dress it was Halloween so I really didn’t notice. When he got skinny and grew curves, I didn’t notice. And when he let his dark brown hair grow out and lasered the hell out of his face so he could forgo shaving, I really didn’t notice.
But on my tenth birthday, when Mom brought Dad home from the hospital, I noticed. I noticed that suddenly Dad had bigger boobs than mom. I also noticed that Moms boobs seemed to be missing in action. It’s not like she had D cups or anything, but I’m pretty sure she at least had something there before. Maybe they swapped at the hospital.
Anyways, my six foot tall 155 pound dad now looked more like a freakishly tall woman in clown makeup. And mom, she chopped off her blond locks, hit the gym and returned looking like a weird little man who still wears too much makeup, and me; I became officially freaked out.
I refused to call dad mom and mom dad, so I simply settled on calling them Jasmine and Robert. This pissed them off, but not as much as when I started calling my cell phone Dad, and my computer, Mom, because when it comes to taking care of me, they do a much better job than the pathetic attempts my parents call parenting.
Now, four years after Jasmine’s first and only operation, not much has changed. My parents have run out of money, and without money for further surgeries or visits to their shrink, they have become lost in transition. Sort of like me.
CHAPTER ONE
“Honey, we need to talk…”
I’ll never forget the day my parents first told me they were gonna get a sex change. It was insanely hard to understand then, and it is still every bit as hard to swallow today, five years later. When you’re only eight, there are certain rules the universe has to live by. When you throw a ball up, it comes back down. Every Christmas Santa Clause brings toys, every Easter a big white bunny hides eggs in your back yard, and the Tooth Fairy give you a dollar every time you lose a tooth.
No matter how bad you want to, you can’t breathe underwater, fly like a bird, or change into a boy so next year on your birthday grandma will buy you a laser sighted, extended mag, rapid fire Nerf machine gun, instead of the new Betty Crocker Easy Bake Oven, that you were probably gonna get. Grandma always said, little girls shouldn’t play with guns.
My parents picked me up earlier than usual from school that day and I was pretty sure I knew why. I had just spent forty-five minutes in the principal’s office for kicking Jimmy Martens in the nuts. Principal Wilcox wanted to know why I had kicked him so hard that they had to call the school nurse in to take care of him. I really didn’t think I had kicked him that hard.
Mamma always told me to never let anyone touch you in the parts that your bathing suit covered. What was so special about my belly button? It musta been something ‘cause my suit covered it.
I knew I shouldn’t have kicked Billy, where it counted, but he did poke his finger into my belly button, so it was fair; right? The second we got home daddy called a family meeting. He told me to put my books on the dining room table and follow him into the living room. Mom was already there sitting on one end of the couch.
I waited till daddy sat down, then I took the spot farthest away from him; a rocking chair next to a giant fern. I knew he would be the one doling out the punishment so I didn’t want to be anywhere close to him.
The second my butt hit the chair daddy started the meeting. “Honey, we need to talk.”
Obviously the principal had called them while I was waiting to see him, so I decided to just spill my guts.
“Mom, dad, he totally deserved it. Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have kicked him in the nuts but he poked me in my belly button, three times,” I began, demonstrating what he’d done.
“What?” asked dad.
“Kicked who?” mom ventured.
I could see a look of shock on their faces. “I mean I could have kicked him in the nuts.” Could it be they didn’t know about it? And now I had just got myself in trouble for no reason.
Dad began again. “Uh…we’ll get back to that later. . . There’s something else we really need to talk about.”
Uh oh, this was really bad. “Look mom, if this is about that five dollars, I was just borrowing it actually, and I can pay it back; I promise. I’ll do chores; I’ll even cook or clean my room…”
I could tell by their blank faces they had no clue what I was talking about. Then it dawned on me. Up to this point I had just gotten away with two majorly bad things, or I should have. I could be the perfect bank robber just as long as I kept my mouth shut and didn’t confess to my crimes.
Dad was still confused. “Christye Anne, what on earth are you talking about now?”
Before I could dig myself deeper into the grave I had started, mom bailed me out. “Jasmine… Um…its okay, she just borrowed it…” She must have seen my mouth hanging open because she stopped short. Did I just hear her call dad, Jasmine?
“Honey,” dad began again, “we really need to talk to you about something, and then you can ask questions, okay?”
What choice did I have? “Okay…”
“You’re not in any kind of trouble. There are some things we need to tell you and that’s why we brought you home from school so early.”
“Okay…”
Daddy took a deep breath and then proceeded to give me the shock of my life. “Sweetie, for as long as I can remember, even when I was half your age, I have always felt different. I used to look at myself in the mirror and see a little boy staring back at me, but I didn’t feel like that little boy. I-“
“Wait a second, who was the boy?”
“What?”
“You said a little boy was staring at you-“
“It was me. I was looking in the mirror and saw my own reflection…”
“Oh.”
“So anyhow, like I was saying, I saw little boy when I looked into the mirror, but I felt like a little girl.”
He stopped for a minute to let my brain catch up to his words. I suddenly thought of that girl Alice when she fell down that hole and ran into that white rabbit. What the heck was he talking about? Then I remembered mom had called him Jasmine or something like that a few minutes ago. What’s up with that?
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
My mom turned to dad, “Jasmine, let me give it a shot.”
“Who’s Jasmine?” I asked.
Dad turned towards me. “Honey, that’s my name now.”
“Why do you have a girl’s name daddy?”
“Honey, what your father’s trying to say is that he may look like a man, but deep inside he really is a woman. He has just decided to live as a woman now. That’s why I called him Jasmine.”
“I don’t get it. Why would you want to do that? You don’t look like a woman to me.”
“Honey, right now I don’t. But I am doing some things to change my appearance and I will begin to look like a woman over time.”
“Like what are you going to do?”
“Well, there are medications that will help me look more like a woman, for starters.”
“You mean you can take a pill and become a girl? What if you got the wrong kind of pill and became a goat?”
“Sweetie, it’s not like that. I am going to be wearing make- up and dresses, for example. I will also be having surgery in a little while.”
“Surgery for what?”
“So I will have breasts.”
“Oh my God, you’re kidding right?”
“Actually I’m being completely serious Christye.”
“Jeez, so now I’m going to have two moms, is that it?” I guess that’s not so bad. Kari at school has two moms.
“Well here’s the thing,” mom began, “I will be doing similar things and soon I will become a man.”
At this point my mouth dropped open. I think that if they would have told me I was really an alien and that they had adopted me, I would have had an easier time believing that. This changing from man to woman and woman to man was just way too weird.
“Mom, why do you have to become a man? Can’t you guys, like switch places or something? Do you really have to change yourselves into…into the other species?”
“Species?”
“You know what I mean. Why do you have to become a man? I don’t get it. Do I have to become a boy now? I really would rather stay a girl.”
“Honey,” dad began, “you don’t have to change a thing. We are the ones that are going to be changing.”
“Why can’t you guys just stay the same? Can’t you just pretend while you’re at home? What am I supposed to tell my friends? Hello this is was my dad but now he’s my mom. Oh and there’s my dad who used to be my mom. Hey what’s your name gonna be now mom?”
“Robert. But you can call me dad of course.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so. Are you guys finished now? You guys are getting freaky. I wish grandma were here.” She always understood me.
Mom gave it another shot. “Sweetheart, what I am trying to say is that I am not the woman you think I am. I’m really your father and,” She points to my dad, “he is really your mother…”
I was beginning to get hysterical. “What am I, a goat? What is going on here? I really don’t get it.”
Dad decides to take charge. “Look Christye, what your mother was ineptly trying to say is that she is really a man, but was mistakenly born a woman and she will be getting surgery to correct it. After the surgery she will be your father, and after my surgery I will be your mother. I was mistakenly born as a man and I am getting to become your mother. My name is now Jasmine and your mother’s name from now on is Robert. Surely you can understand that.
I was in tears now and nearly standing on my end of the couch not believing a word I was hearing. “I don’t get it. What are you saying? And what is this Robert and Jasmine bit again? Who are they and what have they got to do with this?”
“They,” began dad, “are us. I am becoming a woman, and my name is Jasmine. Your mother is becoming a man, and her name is Robert. Christye I don’t think you are listening very well.”
“And what am I now? What am I becoming? I don’t wanna change.” I was rapidly losing all sense of reason here and desperately wanted to call Grandma.
“Look Christye, we know it’s confusing, mom began again, “but…”
“Confusing? Confusing? You’re not a kid, I am. This is past being confusing, I left confusing ten minutes ago. You wanna know what confusing is? Confusing is when you poured yourself a glass of milk for breakfast and took a drink thinking you were gonna have orange juice and you get this weird shock when your OJ tastes like cow juice. That’s confusing. What you’re talking about now, that’s just crazy talk.”
“Honey…”
“Why are you telling me now? No, why do you have to get surgery now? Can’t you just wait till I’m all grown up and then do it?”
“Christye,” dad began, that’s a long time from now…”
“So,” I cut him off, “you’ll just have to wait. What would I tell my friends? Hello, this freak is not really my dad it’s actually my mom.”
“Christye, you don’t have to be mean about it. This is hard for all of us.”
“Well actually, mom began; it’s not hard for us because we will be becoming what we were born to be so it will be a huge relief for us…”
Dad looks at her, “Just shut up Robert!”
“You don’t expect me to call mom Robert now do you?” I asked.
“Yes we do, and you need to call me Jasmine.”
“Okay sure, on one condition.”
“And what would that be?” asked Dad suspiciously.
“I want you both to begin calling me Sparky.”
“But that’s the dog’s name,” dad objects.
“Not anymore it’s not. His new name is Christye. I’m the one that’s Sparky now.”
“Christye,” mom was getting angry now, “that is absolutely ridiculous. We are not going to call you the dog’s name.”
“And what you’re asking me to do is not crazy? You’re right it’s not. It is totally insane and I’m not gonna play along with your stupid games. You are mom,” I said looking at my mom, and you are my freaky dad,” I said looking at him.
Mom gives me a long hard look. “Don’t you think it will be weird calling me dad when I will look like your mother?”
“What do you mean look like my mother? What are they gonna do to you anyway?” I’m not sure I really wanted the answer, but I really had to know…
“Well first,” began dad, “I will be taking medication, special woman’s medication to look more…female. I will also have…uh…fake breasts. They will look real though…and feel real too. I’ll let you touch them. They will feel just like your mom’s.”
“Ugh, I’ll pass on touching them and I don’t wanna see them either.”
“Don’t start making faces Christye, they are not going to be ugly, or anything like that.”
Then it dawned on me. “Oh my God, what are they gonna do to moms…” I couldn’t say it. It was just too horrible to think about, much less say.
“Dad finished for me. “She will have a total mastectomy, uh, they will take them off.”
“So mom’s gonna give you her…boobs, is that it?”
“Honey…”
“Sorry daddy, but that’s just gross. Sick. You guys are crazy. That’s it, just plain crazy. I wanna talk to grandma.”
“Her number is by the phone, you can call her any time.”
And that was it, the worse day of my life; so far, that is…
CHAPTER TWO
Blue Steak at the Brown Bear Diner
Even before we opened the door to the dilapidated diner, I felt sorry for the staff. Dealing with Jasmine could be a living nightmare even at the best of times. But… when she was hungry she was cranky, and when she was cranky, she had the same sweet temperament as a cornered badger with its foot in a trap. It was even worse. And her bark, it was her bite. I can’t begin to count how many waitresses she’d sent slinking away after a stern tongue lashing. Trying a new restaurant today was Robert’s idea. I don’t know what he was thinking. Any idiot could see this wasn’t gonna end well.
Before our butts could warm the cold seats, we were approached by a fresh-faced waitress with a smile on her face that was only there because her puppy dog brown eyes hadn’t settled on Jasmine yet.
“I’ll take those,” Jasmine proclaimed as she snatched the menus out of the girls hands. Our startled waitress took one look and dropped her pen and pad, along with her jaw.
To be fair, Jasmine wasn’t your typical six foot tall man in make- up; okay I guess she was, and that was the problem. She was not what they call passable. She didn’t look like a very tall, elegant woman, and she certainly didn’t look like a very skinny and slightly feminine man, and that was the problem. For today’s debacle, Jasmine chose a blue denim skirt that didn’t quite reach her knobby knees and a white form fitting turtleneck. She had on a long black wig, clown make-up, and newly bought and paid for b-cup breasts. If one could just get past her protruding Adam’s apple and that painted on face, she might have fooled people; from a safe distance.
Robert was your typical testosterone enhanced, woman turned short and skinny effeminate man slash lumberjack. She had chopped off her golden locks, her size C Breasts, and hit the free weights at the Y. Robert was all man, and proud of it; he just didn’t put it in your face the way Jasmine did, so people tended not to notice him. Our waitress didn’t notice him either.
After she got over the shock of Jasmine, she was determined to make us sit though the daily specials.
“Every Thursday, that’s today, we have our Brown Bear Diner meat lovers special. For a mere $9.99 you get a quarter pound burger, an eight ounce tri tip, and a half dozen ribs. It’s a working man’s meal fit for a King.” She took a gulp of fresh air and, “for the sea food lover in you we have fresh Alaskan king crab bathed in buttery goodness, and…”
As she rambled, I could feel Jasmine’s knees as they knocked against mine. She was quaking in anger. I tried to scoot away from her, not wanting to be part of any collateral damage when she went off. When the waitress paused to take another breath, Jasmine pounced.
“Look you little tramp, here’s what I want and you’d better be taking notes because I’m not going to repeat myself. Is that clear?”
It wasn’t. “But ma’am, our specials are to die for.”
“Oh, are you willing to die for them then?” Jasmine snapped. “How ‘bout you serve me that fresh frozen Alaskan king crab, and If I don’t simply love it, you just nip off and shoot yourself. Now doesn’t that sound like a great idea…Helena, is it?”
Helena didn’t understand. ”Or you could try our infamous, twice cooked salt water catfish with a sprig of parsley and a dash of lemon?”
“Listen Helena, if you bring me anything with a sprig of anything on it, or a dash of anything that ever grew from a manure tilled garden, you’re gonna be wearing it for a week.” The tears began as Jasmine continued. “Look missy, you seem like you’re new here. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn you just fell off the turnip wagon on the way from your Amish settlement, so I’m going to speak real slowly so you can understand.”
Jasmine waited for Helena to blink through the layer of tears and refocus on her face. “I’ll take your biggest thickest cut of steak and I’ll take it blue. You do know what blue steak is, don’t you?”
Helena nodded.
“A-a-a-n-d w-h-a-t will they be wanting?” Helena stammered as she pointed to Robert and me.
“They’ll take the steak too, but you can tell your pathetic excuse for a chef to burn theirs to a crisp.”
“Re-a-l-ly?” Helena stuttered, “I mean okay, sure ma’am.” Then she beat a hasty retreat towards the kitchen.
I waited a moment, declared my fictitious plans to use the restroom, wandered into the kitchen looking for our waitress. I found her dabbing her eyes on her apron.
“Hey uh…waitress.”
She looked up, startled. “Can I help you?”
“I doubt it, but I can help you though.”
“Is it about that steak thing?”
“You don’t know what blue steak is do you?”
“Oh, I didn’t but I asked our chef and he said it was steak that was pink all inside and lightly browned on the outsides.”
“That’s rare steak. Boy are you in trouble.”
“Please tell me. This is my first day here and already I’m in hot water.”
I felt sorry for the girl. She didn’t need the Cannon family on her first day of a new job. “Look, just do what I tell you and you’ll be fine.”
Helena nodded as she dabbed her eyes.
“Take your biggest steak out of the freezer…”
Helena interrupts me. “Uh…we don’t serve steaks from the freezer. Ours are ranch fresh…”
“Stop stop stop stop. Unless there’s a herd of cows out back that I failed to notice when we drove in, they’re freezer fresh.”
“Okay. So I take one out of the freezer, thaw it out–”
“No. Ixnay on the thaw. You take it out, plop it on the plate and dump a ladle full of your steaming broth on it and serve it like that.”
Helena turned green. “But that would be raw. She wants raw steak? How awful?”
“That’s not raw, that’s blue. If you bring anything other than that Jasmine will have your head, got that?”
“Oh my God, thank you so much. I don’t know how I can thank–”
“Just don’t piss off my mom.” Satisfied that I had done my good deed for the day I went back to our booth to wait.
As I sat down, I noticed one of my teachers sitting on a stool at the bar. Just one more reason I said a quiet prayer, desperately hoping Jasmine wouldn’t make a scene. She of course misinterpreted my look.
“Don’t you think he’s a little old for you Christye?”
Now that’s just gross. I looked meaningfully at the man. “Age is just a number Jasmine.”
She shook her head in disgust, but thankfully let it drop.
A short while later Helena returned. She even had that happy smile back on her face, unfortunately, she was about to lose it. She surrendered Robert and I’s steaks first, not really interested in our reactions. Next she set Jasmine’s plate down in front of her and took a cautious step back; a good move on her part.
Unfortunately, Helena had taken Jasmine’s orders about my steak and Robert’s steak literally and they both resembled a pile of briquettes. I tapped mine with a fork and was rewarded with a wooden sounding clack as my fork struck the meat.
Jasmine paid no attention to us as she skewered the middle of the steak with her fork. The tines easily penetrated the soft pink meat. She raised the steak with her fork and waved it in front of our terrified waitress. “What the hell is this?”
“Blue steak?” Our waitress ventured.
“Blue steak?” Jasmine parroted back snidely. “This steak is no more blue as my hair is red, you idiot.”
It was true, her steak was definitely not blue, and neither was her brown hair anything close to red. Helena’s hands flew to her mouth in shock and a new round of tears appeared in the corners of her eyes. She was about to blow the counties water usage rations right out the window. If there were only a lawn here that could benefit?
Suddenly Jasmine seemed to soften. She beckoned Helena closer with a wave of her hand and a crocodile smile. Our mesmerized waitress took a tentative step forwards, not fully understanding just how much danger she was in. Jasmine beckoned, Helena obeyed. The moment she was within reach Jasmine speared her raw steak with a fork while her free hand pulled open the girl’s large apron pocket. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was going to happen next. Without giving it a second thought, I stood quickly and intentionally upset the water carafe right into Jasmines lap.
Naturally Helena whipped out a large rag and with the expressed intention of using it as a dike. I took hold of her wrist to get her attention and mouthed a single word.
“Run!”
She didn’t need to be told twice, and left a trail of disgruntled and stumbling people in her wake as she made for the safety of the kitchen.
Jasmine shoved her way past Robert and left the booth, but not before dropping two fives, smack dab in the middle of a water soaked Blue Steak. We skated past what looked like the manager who was all in a huff as he hurried over to our table.
Well that went well I thought to myself as we sped off to one of our usual haunts. Any time we could leave a restaurant without any bloodshed was a good outing in my book; now how sad was that?
Dysfunctional is the new Functional
Chapter Three
June 12th, 8:30 am, last day of seventh grade:
The school year was supposed to end on a high note…supposed to. My last day of seventh grade didn’t go so well. Sitting at the desk next to mine was none other than Melissa Jordan, bulimic. Yup, you heard it, she’s bulimic. Apparently she got out of the hospital the day before and she wanted to come to school on the last day to say goodbye to all her friends that she hadn’t seen in the last three months.
I haven’t been able to get to a computer yet, but I do know a couple things about bulimia and I have to say, I can’t believe they let her come back. I mean, with her condition, shouldn’t she be home schooled or something? All I know is everything that’s not nailed down is gonna wind up in her backpack.
June 12th, 3:45pm, after the last day of seventh grade:
Okay, so I was a little misinformed on the subject of bulimia. Turns out, she’s not gonna steal everything in sight; she’s just gonna eat it and throw it up. According to the babysitter, that’s what I call my computer, one in four girls has some sort of eating disorder like anorexia or bulimia; it’s enough to make me vomit.
I was just getting into my research when my bff, Lexi called me on my cell phone. Lexi’s real name is Alexia, but I usually call her Lexi, or Lez, or whatever pops into my head at that moment. We’ve been best friends since like first grade or something. We’ve always gone to the same schools, been in the same class, and even the same homeroom in middle school. We have become inseparable. She always had the attention of boys ever since we figured out what a boy was, but I can’t say that I’m jealous or anything. They like her cause she’s got these cute big brown puppy dog eyes, long curly brown hair, and….ah who am I kidding, she’s got boobs; big ones, and that’s why the boys like her.
“What’s up Lexi?” I answered when I finally unburied my cell phone. My phone was kinda like my conscious; I never left home without it, and someone was always calling me on it trying to tell me what to do, or how to behave.
“You’ve just been granted a reprieve,” she announced. “Maybe even a pardon if you play your cards right.”
“A pardon, what are you talking about?”
“Look, you’ve always been the messed up chick at school, ever since that thing with your mom and dad, right? Well guess what? I just got the dirt on Melissa Jordan.”
“I kinda like the attention.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, you know that saying, press is press, there’s no such thing as bad press?”
“Press? Hello, you’re not some Hollywood starlet here.”
“Okay, forget I said that. So…Melissa, really?”
“Christye, that girls got more baggage than an airport, and most of it unclaimed.”
“Unclaimed…what the hell are you talking about?”
“Forget it…never mind. Have you figured out by now that Melissa’s not gonna rob you blind?”
“Hey Kleptomania, bulimia, they sound the same right? Anyone could have made that mistake.”
“Whatever…So get this, not only is that girl one sick chick, her parents are way beyond weird, and for you; that’s a good thing. Pretty soon everybody’s gonna forget about the girl who was raised by clowns and–”
“Clowns? Is that what everybody’s saying Lexi, that I am being raised by a couple of clowns? That almost sounds like the boy who was raised by wolves. Sadly that probably would have been better.”
“Oh come on, tell me you don’t cringe when you see Jasmine’s make up job.”
“Okay, you got a point there, but what is the big news about Melissa?”
“Her mother is a hermaphrodite.”
“A hermaphrodite?”
“You do know what that is right?”
“Oh yeah, of course.”
“You liar, I can hear your nails clicking on the keys. You’re googling it aren’t you?”
“My computer’s not even on Lexi.”
“This is becoming pathological Christye, I can see on my computer that you’re on line as we speak.”
“So sue me. I was doing homework.”
“On the last day of school? Just admit it; you don’t know what I’m talking about. You want to know what a hermaphrodite is or not?”
“What?”
“Two words…Lady Gaga.”
“Lady Gaga?”
“Yea, the singer.”
“Holy shit, her mom’s a singer? Do I know anything she sings?”
“Oh man, you’re hopeless. Why don’t you Google Lady Gaga and I’ll call you back in five.”
“Just tell me.”
“Alright…well, her mom’s got both.”
“Both what?”
“Still not getting it huh?”
“Spell it out for me.”
“Lady Gaga, like Melissa’s mom has both lady parts and guy parts.”
“Oh shit, is that even possible?”
“Oh yeah…freakish huh?”
“Way too much information Lexi. How do you know this anyway?”
“Jennifer Logan’s mom just started at the gym where Melissa’s mom goes, and guess what?”
“What?”
“She showers in her underwear. She takes off her bra but not her panties.”
“So…”
“Uh, hello…she has to shower in her undies or everyone will see that she’s got both parts.”
“Maybe she’s shy, did you ever think that?”
“There’s more. You know Crystal from algebra right? Well her mom’s a doctor, and she’s been coming home talking about this new patient of hers who has both. Her parents try to be discreet, but one day she heard them talking and she even let her name slip, and the patient was Mrs. Jordan, Melissa’s mom.”
“Jeez…I don’t know what to say.”
“When that leaks out, no one’s gonna remember you and your clowns.”
“Maybe her dad’s normal,” I replied hopefully.
“He’s married to a hermaphrodite Christye…how normal can he be?”
“You got a point.”
“She’s anorexic, her mom’s a hermaphrodite, and her dad’s married to one; I think that trumps your daddy became my mommy and mommy became my daddy bullcrap.”
“Wow, I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything ‘cause you just became normal.”
“I don’t know. I kinda liked the attention…You know what, I’ll become an alcoholic. I have an uncle who’s one, how hard can that be.”
“Huh?”
“Yeah, my dad’s brother is an alcoholic and I always wondered what went on in those meetings he’s always going to.”
“Okay…”
“You know, I can sneak those little Tequila bottles into school and be like, sipping on them all day.”
“Yeah, you better watch that Chrissie, you might actually become one. But I’m way curious what goes on there too. My mom’s best friend is one too.”
“Maybe we should check it out.”
“Okay whatever, we’ll do it sometime. We got all summer to go.”
“No, I think I better start practicing now…I gotta get it perfect if anyone’s gonna buy it.”
“Buy what?”
“That I’m an alcoholic.”
“Look Christye, if you really want the attention you don’t gotta become an alcoholic.”
“Well, get used to it girl, ‘cause that’s what I’m gonna be. Hi my name is Christye, and I’m an alcoholic. See, sounds good doesn’t it.”
“Whatever…”
Suddenly my bedroom door opened without a knock. Jasmine walked in with Robert in tow. Jasmine walked over to where I was sitting and towered over me looking annoyed.
“Shit, Lexi I gotta bail, Godzilla and Godzilla’s puppy just came in.”
“Later Ho.”
“Bye bye Lez.” I replied hanging up the phone.
“Now why do you have to be calling me Godzilla?” Jasmine wanted to know.
“Uh…as long as you continue to just barge into my room without knocking, that’s how long.”
“Well Robert and I are going to a friend’s house and then to a meeting so we won’t be back till late. There are leftovers in the fridge if you get hungry.”
I waited to hear the front door close and then fire up my laptop. I Googled Alcoholics Anonymous and ten minutes later my evening plans were set. I called Lexi back.
“You know the Church near my house?” I asked soon as I heard her voice.
“The Mormon one?”
“No, the ratty one across from it.”
“I think so. What about it?”
“Be there in thirty minutes.”
“Why?”
“Trust me. You’re gonna like this. Just be there.”
I hung up the phone.
Alcoholics Anonymous Meeting:
Google lied. The meeting started later than I thought – but the location was spot on. The Methodists must need some kind of special help hence the AA meeting in their basement. I spotted Lexi near the front entrance and waved her away from the others who were chain-smoking and shot-gunning cheap coffee. I knew it was crappy because I gagged on mine after one sip and threw the Styrofoam cup into a nearby shrub. There was no time to waste – Lexi and I needed to make the most of our early arrival and get our story straight.
“So what’s your story Lexi?”
“My story? What are you talking about?”
“Your story…you know, why are you here? How did you become an alcoholic…that shit?”
“Jeez…you didn’t tell me I had to become an alcoholic.”
“Hello, this is an AA meeting. You gotta be an alcoholic to come here.”
“So what’s your story then?”
“I got it all figured out…just in case someone asks me. When I was a baby my parents used to put whiskey in my bottle with my formula…you know, to shut me up. An I just kinda went from there.”
“What do you mean went from there?”
“You know, sneaking drinks from my dad’s beer…taking sips from whatever I could find in their bar. I even brought proof.”
“You brought proof…”
“I got proof.”
“What, you got pictures or something?”
“Better. I got this.”
I reached into my purse and pulled out one of those miniature tequila bottles they sell you at the airport, and held it up for inspection.
“Jeez Christye, you’re gonna bring a bottle of tequila into an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting? Wow, you’re gonna make friends real fast here…or get us kicked out in record time.”
“Oh come on, how else are they gonna believe me. Now you’re turn. What’s your story?”
“Oh man, I don’t know ‘bout this…”
“Well you gotta think of something quick. We just can’t stand out here all night, the meeting’s gonna start in like five minutes.”
“Okay, just give me a sec.”
“Hurry it up then.”
“Alright, I got it. I started drinking cough syrup when my mom died from cancer last year…”
Wow, you’re gonna use the Big C huh? Little children all over the world dying from cancer and you’re gonna fake it?”
“I’m not faking it…my mom is…”
“Okay, whatever. So what else ya got?”
“And then I started stealing those little bottles from the liquor store at the corner…”
“Wait, you can’t use the little bottles too. It’ll sound like we collaborated on our story.”
“Oh come on, tons of people drink those. I bet there’s a lot of people here who drank those.”
“Okay, it’ll have to do. It’s seven so we better get in before they close the doors.”
We hurried into the room and found the only two seats left; sadly they were in the front row. The room was set up in a circular fashion so you could see nearly everybody, and they could see you. I looked around and there must have been forty people crammed into the church’s basement, sitting on cold hard metal folding chairs, and waiting for the meeting to begin.
A couple minutes later a mangy looking guy with long dirty blond hair walked up to the podium.
“Good evening everyone, my name is Gary, and I’m an alcoholic.”
“Hi Gary,” the group replied.
“Today’s a special day for me. I have been sober for three years, and I have to say, I’m having a rough time.”
Shouts of congratulations and words of encouragement echoed around the dingy room. Five minutes into his monologue about his sad life I found myself thinking about the little bottle of tequila I had stowed away in my purse. These people could seriously drive a person to drink.
And the man droned on. “This is one of those nights, if I were to just see a bottle I’d probably lose control and be drinking before you could say Alcoholics Anonymous.” More words of encouragement from the audience. “Seriously, I used to steal those little plastic bottles at the airport. You know what I’m talking about. Those little bourbon and tequila bottles…so easy to slip them into my pockets…sip on them at my leisure…but enough about me. I’d love to hear your stories about how you stayed sober on days like this.” The crowd erupted clapping as the man took his seat.
I raised my hand, I couldn’t help it. I really wanted to see what it was like in the shady world of addiction.
“Hello everyone, my name is Kimberly and I’m an alcoholic.”
“Hi Kimberly,” the group replied.
“I used to steal those little bottles as well, but thankfully, I haven’t touched one in a year now…”
Applause from the room.
“I’ve learned to limit my intake to social situations only…you know, like New Years, Christmas and birthdays…not just mine, but when I do go to a party of a friend. I don’t want to be rude after all. And to celebrate life’s little milestones…passing a test at school, getting asked on a date by a boy at school…getting turned down by a boy I just asked out on a date at school…”
The room was dead quiet, all eyes on me.
“I heard you give out those little coins when you are sober a year…can I get one of those? You guys do have some don’t you?”
“Excuse me,” the tall gangly man with long blond hair stood up. “I’m the chair of this meeting…Kimberly is it?” He continued after a brief pause. “We actually only give them out to those members who have been sober for certain periods of time…”
“Yes, I think I was clear on that. I did say a year, didn’t I? I said a year.”
“I think your interpretation of sobriety differs a bit from what we follow in terms of the rules of Alcoholics Anonymous. Have you heard of the twelve steps? ‘Cause it sounds like you may be stuck on step one.”
“What, is it the age thing? Is it because I’m only fourteen and you can’t believe a girl my age could be sober a year? Is that it?”
“Oh no, it’s got nothing to do with age miss.”
“Well then what is it?”
“I think I’ve been very clear miss. You have to truly be sober to get a coin. That means no drinking…period.”
“Jeez, with those rules how’s anyone ever supposed to get a coin then?”
“The object really isn’t to get a coin, it’s to stay sober.”
“I can vouch for her,” interrupts Lexi, standing up. “I’m her best friend and I can truly say I have never seen her smashed…outside of normal situations…you know parties and such like she said.”
The chair person spoke again. “I think, and I’m sure I speak for the room here, that it would be a good idea if you just took your seat and listened to others here who have been around awhile. We think you could really learn something here tonight.” The room broke out in applause.
“Fine, whatever…” Without another word I did what they asked and took my seat.
A young woman in her twenties raised her hand to speak. “Hi everyone, my name is Morgan and I’m an alcoholic…”
“Hi Morgan,” the group replied.
“I think it’s refreshing to hear the young lady speak honestly as she did. I too used to steal those little bottles…and later the big ones. And I also was confused when it came to sobriety. I just kept coming back until it took, and I hope she does the same.”
Everyone seemed to agree with her.
“I also…What the hell?” Now she was looking at me accusingly. “You’ve got one of those little bottles there. Oh my God, you’ve snuck a bottle of Tequila into an AA meeting.”
“Wait a second,” I objected, holding the bottle up for all to see. “I haven’t opened it yet.”
“Yeah,” said an old guy close to her, “Why’s the bottle half empty then?”
I looked at it. Oops my bad. I had grabbed the wrong bottle. “I mean I haven’t opened it in here, although this seems like as good a time as any.”
“And why would you think that?” asked the twenty something girl, becoming outraged.
“Well…this is a social situation…kind of a cluster fuck of a situation I might add…”
“She can’t have that in here,” yelled another woman from across the room.
“Oh come,” on I objected, “You know what you guys problem is? You all need to just have a drink and chill…that’s what you need.” I stopped when I felt Lexi yanking on my sleeve.
“Come on Chrissie, I think we are about to get lynched.”
I grabbed my purse and stood up, looking around the room defiantly, until I saw the first man that had spoken earlier that evening; the one who said if he even saw a bottle he would start drinking. Soon as I caught his eye I chucked my bottle in his direction.
Lexi ignored her and plunged ahead. “It moved alright, and I think it was heading for the letter b. I think it was gonna say boy.”
“Boy?”
“Yeah, sounds like you’re really a boy deep down inside. I bet Jasmine would love to hear this.”
“And she’s never gonna hear it, cause I am not a boy, I’m a girl so enough with your freakiness, already. Now can we just do this before Jasmine and Robert get home?”
“Alright Chrissie, I’m sorry…So what shall we ask it?”
“Let’s try something simple first; a yes or no question.”
“Like…”
“I dunno…”
“Come on, you can think of something, Lexi persisted.”
“Is Josh gonna ask me to the back to school dance this year?” I asked.
“That’s a good question Chrissie but I already know the answer to that one.”
“Huh?”
“Yep, the answers no, cause he’ll be too busy with me.”
“And then you woke up.” Christye holds her hand up, interrupting her friend’s question. “I got a good one this time. Is Alexia gonna graduate high school before, or after she gets knocked up?”
“Thanks Christye, but I’m not helping ya with that one. Let’s ask a serious one now.”
“Like what?”
“I dunno. Does it have to be a yes or no question?”
“Yeah other 21 letters are there for decoration.”
“Shut up.”
“I guess some people really do get dumber over the summer break, an it’s only been two days. Boy are you in trouble.”
“Did you drag me over here to insult me, or are we actually gonna see if this thing works? Lexi asked.”
“Alright alright, let’s get serious now. Put your hand on mine and relax. I’m gonna ask a real question this time. Okay…a…spirits of Ouija, spirits of the underworld, are Jasmine and Robert gonna get a divorce?”
“Oohh…good question.”
“Shut up you’re gonna distract it.”
Both girls lapsed into silence, as they waited anxiously for a reply. After what seems an eternity their hands seem to be moving. The girls held their breaths as their hands seemed to drift across the board. Christye squeezed her eyes shut, determined not to break the spell by opening her eyes. With every fiber of her being she focused on the question.
Lexi held her breath as she allowed her right eye to open to the tiniest slit. The little triangle thing was actually moving. She wondered absently if she’d forgotten to put on her eye shadow.
The little triangle stopped moving. The girls looked down and saw the little glass bubble had come to rest over the letter “O”. Both girls glanced at each other in amazement.”
“Close your eyes,” Christye hissed, “It’s startin’ to move.”
Reluctantly Lexi closed her eyes for real this time. She was beginning to feel the power of the Ouija Board. She caught her breath as she felt the little triangle begin to move beneath her fingers. She had to admit, hanging out with Christye over the summer was a hell of a lot more interesting that hanging with any of her other friends, especially Melissa Jordan. She wondered how tough it was to stick you finger down your throat to make yourself throw up. No way could she ever do that. Whenever she had the flu she would go to great lengths to not puke, even though it almost always made you feel better afterwards.
It stopped moving.
Both girls opened their eyes. The game piece was hovering over the letter ‘K’.
They exchanged glances then closed their eyes again. Christye waited for what seemed like eternity but the thing just would not budge. It was stuck on the letter ‘K’. Frustrated, she opened her eyes.
“Okay?” Christye finally broke the mood and the silence. “Just okay…what the hell was that? OK? Are Jasmine and Robert gonna get a divorce? Ok.”
I’d had enough. I grabbed the board and threw it across the room.
“Hey chill…Obviously these things are just a crock. Whose was this anyway?” Alexia wanted to know.
“It’s Robert’s. They both got a bunch of this Wicca stuff. You should see when Jasmine goes witchy on us and starts dancing around in the back yard. Some pretty queer shit happens.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know…you’d have to see it. Next time they have another dance I’ll call you so you can come over to watch.”
Lexi retrieved the Ouija board from across the room. “So you wanna ask some more questions?”
“Naw that shit’s hella lame. They got some other stuff that’s pretty cool. I just gotta figure out how to get it.”
“What do you mean get it?” Alexia asked.
“They keep the good stuff under lock and key. Jasmine has a spare key hidden in her bedroom, but I don’t know where it is. I know it’s there though ’cause I overheard them talking about it one day.”
“Well hell, let’s go look for it.”
“No way, they’re gonna be home pretty soon and I do not want to get caught in Jasmines room.”
“Yeah, she’d probably turn you into a toad or something.”
A ringing cell phone put an end to the conversation.
“Hang on a second, that’s me.” Alexia fished around in her purse until she came up with her cell phone.
“Yeah mom, what’s up now?”
“I’m at Christye’s house, why?”
“Alright, I’m coming.”
“Hey Chrissie, I gotta get back home. Mom’s gotta take one of the twins to the doctor so she wants me to watch the other.”
“Which ones staying with you.”
“Mitch, the hyper one of course.”
“Of course. Okay girl I’ll catch ya later.”
“Later biatch.”