Rachel wasn’t a pretty woman. She wasn’t plump and motherly, nor was she indearingly plain. Perhaps the only thing unique about her appearance was the lack of uniqueness. No, she would never stand out in a croud, but behind that blue gaze sat a finely tuned machine, a mind capable of quick whit or sage advice. This was my friend. This was my therapist and had been for the better part of four years. I guess you could say she took the place of my mother since that frizzyhaired excuse for a lady was now only a distant and painful memory.

Rachel. How I loved that woman and the office which so perfectly represented its owner. The room was small and tightly crammed with large, comfortable-looking fernature. My favorite, an over-stuffed rocking chair, stood by the window. Beside it crouched a loveseat, and across from these, three straightbacked chairs stood against the wall. Above these, a clock ticked away the seconds, imitting a soft gong at the end of every hour. Her desk was jammed in a corner, covered all over with pictures of her husband Nick and their three cats.

Cozy was an understatement. This was the perfect hideaway for two allies to chip away at all the red tape and rigamerole of complex legal systems. She needed me because every client on her caseload increased her pay. I needed her because one letter of recommendation from my primary psychologist was part of the paperwork needed for me to undergo a long desired sex change. Fourty-nine years ago, I had been born a girl, but growing up, I had always longed to be a boy. This never changed, growing only stronger with time until the long-supressed need became two much and I was forced to persue this dream or be maddened by it.

Today was Monday, June the seventh, 2023. The time, of course, was one o’clock PM. Rachel was seated in the middle of the straightbacked chairs, sipping a cup of herbal tea and grimacing at the unopened Pepsi I held between my hands.

“How can you drink that stuff?” she asked for the millionth time in our relationship. “It tastes like battery acid.

I kissed the can reverently, popping the top with a flourish. “Tastes like Heaven to me,” I laughed. “Mixed with a little sunshine and the joy I get from your stimulating company.”

She made a little noise of disbelief. “Please! Don’t you know three days of submersion in Pepsi can disolve a nail?”

“Madam, I am sure you are mistaking Pepsi for its inferior sister company, Coke.”

She laughed. “How could i? They are so different after all. Now, on to the session.” She rifled through her papers, settling on my file. “Last week, you were telling me about the pending eye surgery, Bella’s new boyfriend and Wyatt’s lack of interest in girls. Has anything changed since last Monday?”

“Nope,” I replied, taking a long, fortifying drink. “Gabriel Calls the house at least three times a day for Bella even if she and her brother are with their mom. He’s not the kind of boy I would have picked for my Arabella, but I guess part of being a parent is giving them the freedom to make some choices.”

“What do you need me for?” She chuckled. “You gave yourself the advice I give you almost every week. And Wyatt? Are you still as worried as you were?”

“More,” I replied. “The boy just turned sixteen and still no mention of girls. You’d think he would at least have a crush by now.”

“What about boys?” Rachel asked. “Is there a chance your son might be gay?”

“That’s the thing,’ I said perplexed. “There’s no mention of boys either. Oh don’t get me wrong. I would prefer him to be straight.”

“Why is that?” Rachel asked.

I sighed, thinking of all the trouble Kayla and I endured because the world perceived us as gay. “straight people have more oppertunities,” I said at last. “Straight people can get married, adopt a child, walk down the street without at least one person staring. Straight people can be there for one another in the hospital. Their children get fewer funny looks, fewer teachers blaming any normal misbehaviors on the lifestyle of their parents.”

“It’s hard,” she agreed. “None of us like to see the ones we love suffer, especially when the suffering is one we know acutely ourselves.” I nodded. “Give him time,” she said after a pause. “Maybe he just hasn’t found the right person. Maybe he’s waiting for love at first sight.”

“Wyatt never struck me as a die hard romantic,” I remarked. “What with sports, chess and schoolwork, love at first sight seems the furthest thing from his mind.”

“People can surprise you,” she said thoughtfully. “Children especially. Some parents would consider themselves lucky to have your problem.”

“I guess that’s true,” I agreed.

“So,” she went on with her gentle probing “tell me more about the eye surgery.”

“The tickets are bought, the hotel rooms are reserved, and I even have a little place I can stay for my recovery period.”

The eye surgery, developed by Doctor Bernard in 2012, was designed to stimulate the optic nerve by implanting a series of small computer chips in the frontal lobe of the brain in addition to a small camera behind each eye. The whole surgery, combined with airfair, sleeping accommodations, and recovery costs would run ten thousand dollars, but I had received a scholarship from an annonimus benefactor, so I only had to pay for living accommodations. This, while steep, was a mere fraction of the total cost, and I payed it gladly. It didn’t hurt that my X wife, Kayla, was quite well known for the nine books she had published in her life. My two books hadn’t gone unnoticed either, and between us, we came up with the money for ourselves, our children, and her husband of ten years to make the trip to England where Doctor Bernard practiced.

I was extatic! Being blind from birth, I never knew the importance of seeing the world as others did, but as I grew older, it became apparent that being blind was more of a bother than anyone had prepared me for. It’s one thing when you live with your parents and there is always somebody, however unwilling, to drive you hither and yon. It is another thing entirely when you’re an adult with a million places to go and no way to get there. Other things were also a challenge. Walking in an unfamiliar place, knowing when pancakes were done, and chasing my children when they were small were only a few in a long line of little setbacks.

I was done with little setbacks. Soon, I would be free of the pushing and prodding of the good Samaritans who couldn’t, wouldn’t understand me. If I wanted to do something, I would do it. If I wanted to get in the car and drive, then off I would go wherever the wind took me. Granted, I was no longer young, but I had a few good driving years left before I became one of those grandpas in the fast lane that everybody honked at. I had every intention of honking back and flipping them the bird. I planned to drive until it was no longer possible, inching along the well-worn road to the next Bingo game or out to the super market.

“Well, it sounds like you’ll be gone for a long time,” Rachel said, setting down her empty tea cup. “I’ll miss you. Be sure to call me if you have a problem you need to talk about.”

“Are you kidding?” It was my turn to chuckle. “I baught a refillable phone card just for you. I’m sure I won’t be calling with problems, though. This is going to be amazing.”

“Amazing yes,” she said cauciously “but remember, Trevyn. Travel can be very stressful, even for those of us who don’t seak therapy on a weekly basis.”

“I’ll call you,” I said, beyond her now.

I was already asking the cute flight attendant for another Pepsi and tearing into a bag of airline pretzles. I was already drinking in my first sight of Arabella’s face, of Wyatt’s, of the view outside my window. The catalog said it would be breath-taking. I had always wanted to experience the ancient magesty of England. From the tourist attractions to the little monotonies that make a place home, England intrigued me.

“I hope everything goes well for you,’ she said warmly. “How long will you be gone?”

“Four months,” I replied. “Four Heavenly, amazing, unforgettable months!”

“Maybe you’ll meet a Heavenly, amazing, unforgettable girl while you’re down there,” she suggested hopefully.

“Not likely,” I said grinning. “Good god, woman! Where would I meet her? Recovery?”

“Maybe she’ll be a naughty nurse or smoldering stewardess.”

“That’s right,” I said with a waggle of my eyebrows. “I’ve waited all my life for a woman who deals in pretzels or bandages.”

“You really should settle down, you know,” she admonished. I couldn’t see it, but I knew she was waggling her finger at me by the way the little bracelets round her wrist jingled with the movement.

“And you really should get a dog to keep those cats in line,” I shot back as I always did.

“Ug! No!” She rubbed her hands together briskly, wiping away any traces of imaginary dog hair that might be clinging to her. Rachel, while warm-hearted, had no great love for all things canine. While cats were a passion of hers, dogs were the opposite, a neucence she could not abide. Perhaps she was allergic, or maybe one bit her as a child and she harbored a fear of them ever since. Either way, it was her weakness, and I used it whenever the woman broached the subject of settling down. There would be no other woman for me. Kayla had been the love of my life, and though I wasn’t empty without her, I was in no rush to fill the place she once occupied in my world.

“Point taken,” she conceded.

A soft gong came from the clock and I stood, rapping the patete woman in a tight embrace. “Take care of yourself when I’m gone.”

“Who’s the therapist here? You or me?” She laughed, squeezing hard. “Are you sure it’s safe?”

By it, she meant the surgery. I mentally slapped myself for being so insensitive. She had lost her mother to a breast augmentation surgery gone terribly wrong, and ever since then, she was deathly afraid of anyone she cared for going under the knife. For the first year of our relationship, she had tried to convince me to be a girl just to avoid the surgery. I hated her for that, but now, I couldn’t imagine a day without talking to my special and constant friend. She was not my best friend, for that was Kayla’s place, but she was dear and true as any I could ever ask for.

“I’ll ask my doctor again before going under just for you,” I reassured. “I’ve been taking aloavira supplements for fast recovery, petting my cat and dog for increased laungevity, and kissing my Helena Bonham Carter poster every morning and night for increased endorphans.”

“How do you know where the lips are?” she asked, drawing away with a little laugh.

“I don’t,” I said simply.

We left, walking together down the long hall toward the main doors where I knew Kayla or Lex would be waiting to take me home. She was there, humming along with the discman playing in her ears. She pressed the stop button with a click, bustling over to us with a hug for Rachel.

“Did he whine too much this week?” she asked jokingly.

“Ooooooo’ooo’oh yes,’ Rachel said dramatically. “He had to, to make up for the four months of missed therapy he’s about to endure.”

“I hate therapy,” Kayla muttered.

This was a well-known fact between us, and Rachel always said it was because she was so well-adjusted.

“Call me,” Rachel said again. “Both of you. Call me any time.”

“I will,” we said together.

And she was gone, walking again back down the hall to await her next client. “Are you all packed?” I asked.

“I’ve packed me, Lex, and both kids,” she said, a note of pride in her voice. Are brude is staying with Bear till we get back, but they love him, so they won’t mind. Lex and eye will fly up to see them every weekend.”

Tommy, Adrian, Jessica, Daunavon and Chrissie EagleBear were the children of Kayla and Lex. I was Godfather to all of them, and I loved them fiercely. What darlings they were, always ready with a hug or a hundred unanswerable questions. There was something about a child, something about the way they rapped their tiny arms about your neck and made all your troubles go away. I missed having tiny people under my feet, but these five little round-faced love bugs satisfied that need in me.

“Do you want me to pack you?” Kayla asked, fussing with the collar on my pressed black shirt.

“I’m already packed,” I replied. “Every item on the list made it into my bag.”

“Good man.”

She left me at the passenger door of the red minivan she affectionately named Rebecca after my mother and went around to the driver’s door. She thought it ironic that at least in some way, Rebecca was getting her where she needed to go without complaint. My mother had always hated Kayla. From the first day they met, the tention had been building, and even now, eighty years old and in a nursing home, she still muttered and spit obsenities when Kayla’s name was mentioned.

It wasn’t often that I went to visit the bitter old thing. Once every ten years or so, my curiosity would get the best of me and I would fly the distance to her seaside rest home, sign in at the front desk, and make my way to her tiny room on the first floor. The building used to be a house for a fisherman and his wife. Perhaps that accounted for its homey atmosphere. Each room held four old ladies, sleeping in four small beds all in a row. The dressers were across, each only a few steps from the bed of its owner. The first floor was reserved for the wheelchair-bound, while on the second lived all the grannies who could still tottle about and come downstairs if they wanted. The staff was a group of eight Asian ladies. They maddened my mother, always fussing about their charges, making sure they were clean, always speaking softly to each other in a foreign tongue.

When I came, she would always clutch at me, begging me not to leave her in that place of heathens. I would smile softly, handing her a single yellow rose. Yellow meant freedom, my freedom. I payed the woman at the desk, giving her a tip for caring for my mother so well along with a sum of money to insure she received a hot fudge sundae and a new dress every now and then, trips to church and to the beauty shop, and a little spending money for when the group of old and young women hit the small shops along the coast. It was a lovely place. Had I been a woman, I wouldn’t have minded going there when I was old, but for her, for Rebecca Ann Theresa Jenson Wolf, it was pure, unmitigated hell.

Kayla put the key in the ignition, and the large beast of a van sprung to life. The radio began almost before the engine, and a Carrie Underwood song filled the comfortable silence. Soft and sad, it filled me with a sweet sort of melancholy. Kayla sighed, tapping her soft pink nails on the dash.

“What strange turns our lives have taken,” she mused.

“I know it.” I nodded. “And what wonderful lives they turned out to be.”

“Do you ever get lonely?” Kayla asked after a pause. I laughed. “It’s not funny, Trevyn,” she said seriously. “Sometimes I can’t help wondering if…” She trailed off.

‘If what?” I asked with a smile. “If inside, I’m secretly pining for you?” she nodded, her braids of dark brown hair rustling against the material of her red hoodless sweatshirt.

Kayla was always wearing red hoodless sweatshirts. Though it was summer,,,,, the air held a certain chill, and I found myself wishing I had worn an overshirt in addition to the black T shirt I wore. We were predictable, I in my black and she in her red. Some things never changed. I was reminded of the old adage, the best friend is a former lover. She knew me in ways even Rachel had yet to grasp, anticipating my anger, discouragement, or even bordom with a ready cup of coffee and a friendly ear.

“No,” I went on. Do you remember D3?” She nodded again. That had been twelve years ago. “My crush on Helena Bonham carter??

“Who?” She scratched her head, then laughed out loud. “oh yeah! Didn’t you buy a poster of her online?” I had. “I was so mad at you. Times were hard, and we really couldn’t afford it, but you just had to have it.”

“And I still have it,” I confirmed. “That old flame never died. She has become my inspiration.”

“But it’s hopeless,” Kayla said, concerned.

“Yes, it is hopeless,” I laughed happily. “But only in the fact that she will never love me. I can think of her now, and I can love her when I am old. Nothing can stop it, and that in its self is a comfort. Not wind, not rain or snow or any power on earth. Not God, not my mother, and not even Helena herself if she ever had a mind to try. In this realm of life, in this small piece, I am immovable as the steady pull of sea to shore and back again.”

It was a pleasant drive and over all too soon. Kayla pulled into the long gravel driveway that spiraled down to the duplex we shared. Tommy and Chrissie were in the front, laughing and bouncing a ball back and forth.

“Come on, Baby Chrissie!” the little boy called coaxingly. ‘Don’t put the ball in the bushes!” She berbled something before bouncing back to hand the ball to her big brother.

Kayla killed the engine and bounded out of the van. Chrissie squealed with delight, throwing all twenty-four pounds of her self at her mother’s legs and rapping tiny arms tightly about the woman as far as they would go. “Hey bubby!” Kayla scooped up the small child, kissing her soundly on the head before reaching out her free arm for Tommy. The three of them hugged and laughed as though Kayla had been gone for a hundred years, dancing and frolicking about the yard.

“Where’s your papa?” she asked.

‘Making lunch,” Tommy answered. “It’s hamburgers today.”

I smiled apriciatively. “I was hoping you would say that.”

“Bah! Bah!!” Seeming to see me for the first time, the tiny child rocketed herself toward me.

Bah, that long ago term of indearment first given to me by Tommy, was the answer to a question Kayla and I had been puzzeling over. Now that she and Lex had a child born of love, now that this child was younger brother to the two children Kayla and I had made together, what was little Thomas Charles EagleBear to call me. The answer? Bah, a thing he started at fourteen months and passed to the future eagleBears. Last night, Lex had told me he hoped for another little one very soon. I didn’t tell Kayla. Let her worry. Let her ring her hands and wonder if he would be angry at yet another new arrival. What a surprise it would be when he beamed at her as always and rubbed her growing belly with a deep love and expectance born of sincerity.

I laughed, kneeling down to lift her in a warm hug. “And how’s my Chrissie girl today?” She snuggled close, a wide smile nearly splitting her chubby face from ear to pointy ear.

“She beat me at ball twice today, Bah,” Tommy told me. There was a note of pride evident in his young voice. He was so like his mother, taking care of younger and older ciblings alike as though they all relied on him. Perhaps in part they did. Each in his or her own way drew something from the boy’s constant cheerful disposition, while at the same time giving something just as valuable in return.

“Wow! Cool!’ I smiled broadly.

The screen door slammed shut with a bang, bringing with it a very distraught Jessica, her brother Adrian in toe. “Mommyeeeeee!” she wailed.

“What happened now, my dears?” Kayla sighed, regarding the child with soft brown eyes. It was what Tommy called her thinking look, and she always sighed just so when such a look was given.

“Adrian killed my Melissa Doll!” The girl’s lament rose ever higher as she handed her mother the mutilated remains of the plastic doll.

“It was ugly!” Adrian said in his own defence.

“Ugly or not,” Kayla reproached “it was hers. We don’t break each other’s things, Adrian Piere. You’ve lost your allowance for a week. Am I clear?”

“Clear,’ he answered. “sorry Jess.”

“Hmph!” The girl stomped her foot angrily.

“I’ll take Melissa Doll to England tonight. I’m sure they have some good doll doctors there.”

“She means she’ll get you a new one,” Adrian remarked, bored with the conversation.

“Shut up, sponge brain!” Tommy put in.

‘I’m not a sponge brain, skuz face!” Adrian shot back.

“I’m not a skuz face, toe wrinkle!” Was Tommy’s oh so mature response.

“All done,” Kayla said with finality, hiding her amusement with a loud clearing of her throat.

“Come And Get It!!” Dad, the peace-maker in most of these front-yard battles, offered both sides something they could not refuse.

“Burgers!” The twins dashed ahead.

“Let’s wash our hands.” Tommy followed, carrying Chrissie.

“Skuz face? Hmmm.” Kayla scratched her head in bemusement before following her brude indoors. I too took my place in the line for hand washings. Lex would have it no other way, and at times, I was sure the man was compulsive.

The burgers were good, thick, juicy, and seasoned in some way that made them just a little spicy. It was a family recipe, one the kids knew well but that would always be a mystery to me. The fries, thick and perfectly crisp lay all over the table in small plastic bread baskets. Another bang from the screen door signaled the arrival of Wyatt. His shoes hit the wall with two thuds, and Kayla pressed her lips together in disapproval.

“Hi Wyatt,” I called, laughing a little at his mother’s annoyance.

“Hey Dad, mom, Pop,” he greeted me, Kayla and Lex in turn. “Hi little people.”

“I’m not little!” Tommy protested through a mouthful of hamburger.

“Littler’n me,” Wyatt laughed, hugging his mother from behind.

She leaned her head back against his chest and closed her eyes. “Oh what a big boy you’ve become.”

“No bigger than yesterday,” I said. “So where’s your sister.

“Mister pube is taking her for one last lunch before we catch our flight tonight.”

“I wish you wouldn’t call him that,” Kayla said reproachfully.

“But you know I always will.” Wyatt laughed, heaping his plate with the delicious fries and a gigantic burger.

“She’s crazy,” Adrian observed. “Missing hamburger day.”

“She’s in love, pea brain,” Jessica defended her older sister. “And Gabe has a car.”

“Yeah,” said Adrian “that we don’t ever ever get to ride in cuz he thinks we’ll eat in it.”

“You plobably would eat in it.” Jessica blew a raspberry at her twin brother, and Lex sighed.

“Never boring,” I supplied helpfully.”

Kayla had a coffing fit into her napkin that I strongly suspected of being laughter. “Eat up, everyone. Then I need a team of bakers to help me get our airplane snack packs ready.”

Kayla’s airplane snack packs were a thing of great beauty. Trail mix, home-made popcorn, and cookies of various kinds filled a cloth lunch sack. Each person, young or old, got the same size sack, and it was up to him or her to moderate how fast or slow the delicacies within were munched. She always had such a heart for the little details that made a thing special. It was a trate I admired and tried every day to master. To some degree, I think I did, copying her precise way of making sandwitches just the right thickness and putting just the right amount of salt and pepper in my caserols to make them perfect.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in the kitchen. Baking with five small children was, to say the least, an adventure. We rolled and patted, tasted, and in some cases, pushed. The kids had a blast, but I think the grown-ups had more fun.

It was my last time seeing their bright young faces for a while, and I made the most of it. I only thanked the fates my oldest two were coming with me. They would drink in the sights and sounds of England and be better for it. I always swore I would see that they grew to be well-rounded individuals. I just never thought their first trip to England would be because of a surgery. A few butterflies of apprehention stirred in the very pit of my stomach, but I brushed them away. I had more important things to think of. How to wash the flower out of Daunavon’s hair without getting water in his eyes, how to mix a perfect cupcake batter while bouncing a tired Chrissie, and how to make sure the twins only put one thumb print in each of the sugar-covered thumbprint cookies were only a few.

I knew the surgery would go well just as surely as I knew what I wanted in my carry-on. My portable DVD player, four movies starring my darling Helena, extra batteries, a set of headphones, and a family photo album would fill my backpack, leaving just enough for Kayla’s amazing snacks to fill the top. How I loved to ride the sky in those great metal birds. It intoxicated me. The sheer awe of sitting in the air, of being only feet away from clouds filled even my sightless vision with wonder and delight.

Bear arrived to pick up the children at seven-thirty. The moccasins he wore made little sound as they swish swished over the hardwood floor.

“good luck in England, Trevyn,” he told me. “It’s a big place.”

I nodded. “Thanks. It’ll be fun. Good luck with the kids. You guys’ll do great.”

I knew Bear’s hatred of crouds. They unsettled him, but his love for children was much greater than his loathing of adults. There would be teachers, I knew. There would be the parents of the friends the three older ones would invite to play. For daunavon, there would be speech therapy every Wednesday, and Bear would have to drive into the city.

At three years old, Daunavon Angel EagleBear spoke not a word. The boy didn’t even berble. He was always watching, always taking in everything with his father’s deep Indian eyes. Child Protective Services was very worried, and though his parents didn’t think it necessary, the state required him to attend three hours of intense therapy every week.

It reminded me powerfully of when Arabella was but an infant. How she struggled with eating. The doctors said she had a tongue thrust, and though we did everything in our power, they took her from us for three days. It would have been longer, but Kayla fought for her with an intelegence and a ferocity that amazed everyone, and she was given back to our care. Though we won that battle, our troubles were far from over. Throughout the two children’s lives, C.P.S. was a constant thorn in our sides.

By now, Kayla was a veteran. She kept maticulous documentation of the progress of each of her children, saving it on thumb drives, CDs and even an external harddrive she kept in her bank account, taking it out to update once every six months. She didn’t worry. She didn’t strain, and if they managed to ruffle her, Kayla Grayham Wolf EagleBear never let them know it.

Lex carried our suitcases out to the frontttttttttttttttttttttt door, setting them up beside the entry. It didn’t bother me that he went into my half of the duplex for my bags. Why should it? We ten were always going back and forth between the halves. It was as if the dividing wall was non-existant.

I rapped each of my god children in a long embrace. “Bye you guys. I’m gonna miss you, but I’ll bring home presents.”

“Don’t get scared,” Tommy told me seriously. “Going to the doctor hurts sometimes. That’s the truth, but he gives you a sticker when it’s all done.”

“Or a pretty ring,” Jessica added.

“Or if you get to ride in the big car with the cyren, you get a stuffed animal.”

I laughed. ‘Thanks guys. I’ll remember that.”

Daunavon and chrissie were already climbing up Bear’s legs. Their three older siblings followed suit, clammering to be off in his big green truck. Kayla and Lex exchanged goodbyes with bear and the little ones while Wyatt and Arabella promised to call and bring home presents. Jessica would miss her big sister most of all, even more, I was sure, than her parents and godfather. Adrian held a certain admiration for Wyatt that bordered on worship. He seemed lost as the older boy picked up his bags. Tommy would miss us all equally, but because he wanted to be just like Bear, I knew he would be just fine.

“All right, everyone,” Lex said when we had locked the house and turned out all the lights. “This is where our paths part. Does everyone have everything they need?”

‘Who’s gonna take care of devil, Lerk and FatDog?” Tommy asked.

Happy barking could be heard from the back of Bear’s monster of a truck. “I’ve got ‘em,” he said. “They’re comin’ with us.”

Tommy sighed in relief. “But who’s gonna water the garden while we’re gone/”

“Us,” Bear replied. “we’ll come by every day and do that.”

In the van, I could hear the furious beeping as arabella sent a barrage of final text messages to Gabriel. For once, Wyatt didn’t taunt her about her relationship with the captain of the football team. “You okay?” he asked, taking a long drink of his Powerade.

“I’m gonna miss him,” she confided. “four months is a long time.”

“He’ll wait,” her brother said. “For a girl, you’re not so bad.”

She sniffed, laughing a little. “Thanks for the complement.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

We spent the rest of the drive in companionable silence. Once there, I drank in the sounds and smells of the main lobby. The clunk clunk of my suitcase wurred along behind me pleasantly as we walked, blending with the others in my group. Other groups milled about. People coming chatted excitedly, anticipating the journey ahead. People going grumbled about baggage claim and talked of how good it felt to be home at last. Somewhere, a business woman screeched on her cell phone while in another corner of the loby, a tired and harried mother attempted with great difficulty to gather her flock of tired and sticky children. Lex and Kayla held hands, skipping a little ahead of the rest of us.

“Stop please! Um, stop please!” The lady at the security desk put a restraining hand on my arm. It was small and cold. “Excuse me Sir, but you seem to be wearing metal on your person. You are forbidden to be wearing metal on your person.”

“I understand that. It’s an undergarment,” I explained.

This was not an unusual conversation for me. Oh no. Everywhere I went that required metal detection brought the same result. Because I was not born with a penis, I wore a realistic-looking one made of rubber. This was, in the transgendered community, known as a prosthetic. In many cases, prosthetics could be attached with medical adhesive, but, since I was prone to infection, mine was attached by means of a harness. It was the buckles on said harness that always set off the metal detecters. At first, this treatment was humiliating, but after a while, I began to see the humor in it. After all, if I couldn’t laugh at myself, I would surely go mad before the reassignment was complete.

“Can I feel it?” the woman asked.

“If you’d like,” I replied, bored. She traced her finger over the outlines of the buckles and sighed. “Satisfied?”

“Yes,” came her flat reply. “Go on through.” I did, joining the others.

“Dad, can I go to the gift shop?” arabella asked absently.

“Sure honey,” I said. We seated ourselves on a long comfortable bench to wait for our flight.

“Something’s eating her,” Lex remarked, worried.

“Something more than the separation from her boyfriend,” Kayla confirmed.

“Give her time,” I said thoughtfully. “She’ll come out with it when she’s ready. Bella always does.”

I was right. I ffelt the slight shifting of another occupant sitting carefully on the bench. Lex and Kayla had gone to see how much longer it would be until our flight was called, and Wyatt had gone to the restroom. That left only one person it could be. Bella. She didn’t speak, and I let the silence stretch between us.

“Dad,’ she said at last. “Do we have to go?”

“no,” I said simply. “It’s not too late. If you want, I can call Bear and have him come and get you.”

“No.” she sighed. “just, whatever. It’s stupid.”

“Hmmm.” I regarded my daughter thoughtfully, taking in her scent of leather and rose. ‘I wouldn’t mind something stupid to think about on the plane, you know.”

“It’s nothing,” she said, closing back into herself. “Forget it.”

“Highly unlike you.” A soft smile played across my face. ‘If something is eating you and has been for the better part of a week, then based on past somethings, this is huge.”

She looked down, her free-flowing hair falling forward over her slender shoulders. “Promise not to laugh?”

I nodded. “I promise.”

“Okay.” She took a deep breath. “My dad, the one I knew anyway… Well he was blind. It sucked sometimes I guess, but it was part of who he was, part of everything. Gracy Miller’s mom was deaf all her life, but now she can hear. It was great for a couple days, but now her mom isn’t the same anymore. She wants to listen to everything now, everything but Grace and her brother zack. I don’t know. It’s just weird.”

“And you think I won’t want to look at you?” I pressed. “You think I’ll change?”

“What if?” she asked. “I mean, this is a whole new thing. What if you wanna go on roadtrips all the time and date lots of pretty women cuz you can look at them now? What if we can’t go to the mall and get lost anymore, or write in Braille so that other people can’t read or…”

“Ah, my little Arabella.” I put an arm about her slender frame, holding the girl close. “I still know next to nothing about malls, so chances are, I’ll still get lost whenever we go to one. If I go on roadtrips all the time, well, I guess I’ll just take you guys with me. And dating? I’m not interested in women at this time, and all the eye sight in the world won’t change that.”

“what if you look at the world and you don’t like it?” she asked.

“Then I’ll have to make a new world,” I answered “one I do like.”

“What if you look at me and you…”

“And I’m disappointed because you’re not what I expected?” I questioned. “Baby girl, before you, I had no desire to be a dad. Kids terrified me.” I stroked her cheak. “You changed all that. You rapped your little fist around my finger, and nothing has ever been the same since then.”

We were still, sitting close and quiet on the bench. It was a rare thing, now that my two were older, that I could touch them past a hug or kiss on the forehead. Once, they had been little. Once, they had relied on mee for so much. Now, sitting by the terminal gate of an airport I didn’t even know the name of, it occurred to me that perhaps they still did. Bella worried about losing her dad, and Wyatt, like me, showed no interest in girls. Oh how I loved them! I resolved to try dating when I returned home. Maybe if I did, it would help Wyatt scrape up the courage. I wasn’t interested, of course, but once the boy’s feet were firmly on the dating wagon, I could stop again and go back to worshiping my poster of Helena.

The plane was crouded, smelling of buttered popcorn and disinfectant. Together, the five of us squeezed into our seats, stuffing our carry-ons beneath us. “Here we go,” Kayla whispered in hushed excitement. “Is everybody ready?”

“No,” Wyatt joked. “I forgot something.”

“Too bad,” Lex replied. We all laughed.

The plane rolled slowly out of the airport, making its way to where it would lift off into the sky. Overhead, a video about air safety played through the speakers. Against a background of incipidly cheerful music, a man droned on about how the seat cushions were floatation devices in case of water landing. Then a woman began talking about the oxygen masks in our overhead compartments. The plane began its ascent, and I sighed with relief. We were on our way at last.

“Lex?” Kayla whispered as the plane rose ever higher.

“Hmmm?”

“There’s something I need to tell you.” The plane lerched in the air, a slight movement that made children and new flyers gasp. “I--I’m pregnant.”

Are you sure?” Lex asked in wonderment.

“Positive,” she replied. “Three pregnancy tests confirmed it. Oh Lex, I didn’t mean to keep it from you! It was just hard to find a time to tell you…”

She stopped, her words cut off by the soft collision of mouths and souls. Lex was gonna be a papa again. I knew how happy he was, knew how much he wanted this. I also knew that Kayla had desperately wanted another baby. They must have been the happiest flyers aboard our big yellow plane that day, and I counted myself lucky to share in their joy. Their soaring hearts kept pace with the great metal bird all the way to England, and I knew again that something wonderful was waiting there just for me.

“I’m coming,” I thought. “Over fields, underclouds. I’m coming. Don’t despair, don’t lose hope. Wait. I’ll leave a life-long legacy. Hold your hands to the sky. Wait. I’ll show the world what love can be. Out of the deep blue sky.”

We arrived at our destination at exactly three o’clock PM. The sky was overcast, a far cry from the blue brilliance in which we set off on this grand adventure. Lex got our suitcases from baggage claim, and we all trooped out to the curb to await the next one we needed was the number 9. It would take us to a spot only a couple blocks to the Byron Hotel where we would be receiving accommodations on behalf of The Bernard Instetute.

“Mom, Dad, Pop! There it is!” Wyatt said excitedly. “The number nine.”

“Hullo,” mumbled the driver, opening the doors. “I’m afraid one of you will have to wait for the number twelve. It’ll be along in an hour or so.”

The others growned. “don’t worry,” I laughed. “I still have some of my snack bag to finish.”

“no no,” Kayla protested. “This is your big thing. I’ll wait.”

I smiled. “I insist! Besides, I’d rather be taking in some of this glorious weather instead of riding a shuttle.”

“All right,” Kayla conceded reluctantly. “We’ll wait for you in the lobby.”

“Nonsense!” I laughed out loud. “Who wants to wait in a hotel lobby for an hour? I’ll have someone at the front desk help me find you.”

“We’ll wait for you in the lobby.” Kayla said firmly. I nodded. It was my turn to concede. Besides, if we stood around dithering on the curb, the shuttle might leave us behind.

I listened to the motor until it was out of earshot. Lex had taken my suitcase, and I was glad. One less thing to worry about when my shuttle came. The air of England felt like silk against my exposed flesh. Perhaps that was an over-dramatization. This was a normal curb on a normal street in front of a very normal bus stop. Still, to me, it was a wonderland. At any given moment, She could appear, and though Helena’s day would not in any way be affected by my standing here on this corner, my joy knew no bounds. Perhaps on the wind, I would hear the faraway strains of her laughter, drifting like the notes of a violin long after the orchestra had gone. Perhaps, once she waited at this very spot. Who could say?

A sudden breeze rippled the surrounding stillness, and I sighed. Wind ment change, and to me, change was a thing of many splenders. As if on cue, a steady rain began. I let it clens me, lifting my hands that I might touch the drops as they plummeted to earth. “Oh Helena,” I breathed. “I feel you. How close to me you stand, and yet how far.”

When I am old, I will still remember. That short hour standing on a corner in England stands as the first in a long line of vivid rememberings. Holding my hands up to the sky like a fool, talking to the gray clouds. I remember how the rain whispered against the pavement and the wind whipped my braid to and fro. Little did I know that in one moment, my whole life would be changed forever.