Second Chances

by P. D. Cacek

  Jess stood up and leaned across the table, gently pulling Laura’s hand, and the syringe, out of the latex.

  “You don’t have to stab, Laura. Just nice and easy. Take your time.” Together they slowly guided it back in.

  “That’s it?” She sounded relieved. “That’s all it takes?”

  “That’s all.” Jess sat back. “It’s very quick and easy.”

  “Does it hurt?”

  “It can’t hurt, Laura. The soul is gone and only the dead body remains. This –” he held up the syringe, “– is just to ensure that it remains that way.”

  Laura nodded and sat back.

  “It’s not hard at all.”

  “No,” Jess said, “it’s not.”

  “You want to try, Rich?”

  His friend shook his head and stood up.

  “Maybe later,” he said. “I have to get to work. Even a boss has to set a good example.”

  Jess tried not to show his disappointment as he set the syringe aside and shook Richard’s hand.

  “Not a problem, Rich, and maybe I’ll stop in. I’ve been thinking about increasing my life insurance.”

  His friend squeezed Jess’s hand lightly and released it. “Sounds good. Okay, then.” He bent and gave his wife a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be home around six. Talk to you later, Jess.”

  Jess nodded as he put Fred and the syringe back into the official U.C.U.A. carrying case he’d bought online. Made of molded plastic, the unassuming case – matte black with no identifying marks or logos – had a central cushioned cradle that held Fred secure and side pockets for the veterinary syringes and the boxes of prefilled ampoules Jess had ordered.

  Because he’d been one of the first to place an order, he’d get a significant discount on the first reorder and an extra syringe as a thank you gift.

  Jess pulled a syringe and ampoule from the case and put it down on the table in front of Laura.

  “I’ll leave these with you,” Jess said as he closed and locked the case. “I’ll also be sending an e-form for you and Richard to fill out. If you can get it back to me as soon as possible that would be great.”

  Taking out his phone, Jess opened the camera app and took Laura’s picture, making sure it showed the syringe and ampoule in front of her.

  “For our files,” he said and put the phone away. “Okay, call me if you have any questions or…anything, okay?”

  She nodded.

  “As soon as you get the form back to me I’ll put you on our standby list, okay? Oh, and tell Richard he can order more prefilled vials on the U.C.U.A. website store under Educational Supplies.”

  Something twitched the side of Laura’s mouth as she stood up. “Educational Supplies, right. Can I help you carry that?”

  Jess picked up the case and shook his head. “Thanks, but I’m getting used to schlepping him around.”

  “Him?”

  “The case.”

  “Oh.”

  The case got in the way when Jess stepped in to give her a hug at the front door.

  “It’ll be all right, Laura,” he said and believed it with all his heart. “One body. One soul.”

  She smiled and nodded and closed the door in his face.

  June

  Chapter Twelve

  June 9

  Arvada, Colorado

  Summer Session wasn’t as bad as Jessie thought it would be.

  It was worse.

  Other than the fact that the school’s normally stringent dress code had been relaxed to the point that students only had to be fully clothed and wear shoes – which meant shorts, tees and flip-flops – and the classrooms and indoor quad were air-conditioned, it became very obvious by the amount of work given and its level of difficulty that the teachers didn’t want to be there either.

  If nothing else, it made Jessie understand the importance of never being put on academic probation again. Her dad had hardly flinched when he saw her report card and the letter that accompanied it, and Mrs. Betancourt had been sympathetic when she called Jessie into her office to ‘discuss the ramifications’ of her failing four of her six classes.

  Which, apparently, was perfectly understandable.

  ‘We know how hard these last few months were for you, dear’ had become the excuse on everyone’s lips except hers.

  Yeah, the last few months of her life sucked, but she’d failed the classes because she hadn’t studied and now she could either return in the fall and repeat her junior year or sign up and complete all three summer sessions so, if she passed, she could come back to school a senior.

  Gee…decisions, decisions.

  Summer School it was!

  Of course, the fact that Abbie was at the U.C.U.A. Teen Retreat Camp (a.k.a. See You At Party Central) in Aspen having the time of her life didn’t help.

  Especially since she’d been giving Jessie updates at least five times a day.

  It’s so beautiful up here!

  You should see the new swimming pool, it’s humongous!

  I saw a moose! Really a moose!

  Jessie stared at her pop quiz paper, trying to remember what the imperfect subjunctive conjugation of agrandir was, when Abbie’s voice popped into her head. Again.

  Jessie, you’ll never believe it! I caught a fish!!!!

  Jessie groaned.

  “Avez-vous dit quelque chose, Mademoiselle Pathway?”

  Jessie?

  Shh! “Um. Non, désolé, Madame Greenbaum.”

  Jessie looked down at the test paper. Go away.

  But I caught a fish!

  Whoot. Whoot.

  You’re not being very nice.

  I’m taking a test!

  Fine. I’ll talk to you toni—

  Jessie started a chorus of ‘This Old Man’ and kept it up until the old man had knick-knacked on a door, then guessed and wrote down agrandisse.

  Je suis tellement foutu.

  * * *

  Haverford, Pennsylvania

  She must have either been engrossed in the novel, or else fallen asleep, because she jumped when her husband plopped down in the chair opposite hers. Eva watched his Adam’s apple slide up and down behind the stubble on his neck as he downed the contents of the water bottle he’d brought from home.

  He didn’t like to ask the staff for anything even though they were paying for it.

  Eva closed her book. “Well? How did it go?”

  He continued drinking as if he hadn’t heard her, but she knew the real reason: he was upset about being there on his day off even though it was his turn to accompany Curtis on his Wednesday PT rounds. And God, didn’t he look the part – he hadn’t shaved and was wearing old shorts and a faded Hawaiian shirt like he was on some sort of budget cruise.

  Eva was about to say something when he finished the water and belched.

  “That hit the spot,” he said. “The hydrotherapy room was horrible today.”

  Eva was instantly on alert. “Why? What happened?”

  Her husband shrugged as he settled back in his chair. “It was hot, like a sauna.”

  And as an HVAC contractor he would know about that. He might not know much about anything else, but ask him about the latest innovations in heating or air-conditioning and he sounded almost gifted, almost as bright as his son…if she was being generous. Eva had never given much thought to his job, she couldn’t call it a career since it was certainly not something she could brag to friends about, but it was profitable enough to provide for her and pay for Curtis’s rehabilitation until he was ready to come home.

  It probably wouldn’t be enough to pay for even one semester at Cambridge, or even Penn State, but there was no doubt in her mind that Curtis would obtain a full scholarship to any university he chose.

  Once he got home.

  “It’
s supposed to be warm,” she reminded him. “How did Curtis do?”

  “Okay, I guess. Dr. Groundling wants to talk to us.”

  “Oh God, now what?”

  The last thing Eva needed was another face-to-face with the facility’s executive administrator. Dr. Groundling was a self-absorbed, emotionless woman, undoubtedly childless, who believed that charts and graphs and cases similar to Curtis’s were undeniable, uncontestable facts and had little, if any, room for a mother’s intuition.

  Eva couldn’t wait for the day Curtis decided he’d had enough and walked out.

  Then where would her uncontestable facts be?

  “I don’t know,” her husband said. “She just asked if we could stop in and see her before we left.”

  “I’d rather not.” Eva closed the book and checked the time on Curtis’s watch as she stood up. She knew his schedule by heart – after hydrotherapy, he would be dried off, given a massage to prolong the increased circulation, then dressed in shorts and put under a full-spectrum light for fifteen to twenty minutes – but looking at the watch made it appear she had appointments to keep that were far more important than listening to whatever Dr. Groundling had to—

  “Mr. and Mrs. Steinar, I’m so glad I ran into the both of you.”

  Dr. Groundling. Damn.

  Eva looked up as the short, square block of white came barreling toward them: white coat, white hair, white pantsuit and pale gray eyes.

  “Do you have time for some coffee in my office?”

  “Not really.” Eva slipped the book into her purse and began to walk away. “I need to pick up the new issue of Science News for Curtis before he gets back to his room.”

  The square woman blocked her path.

  “You have time, Mrs. Steinar. I’ve ordered another EEG done on Curtis.”

  “What?” Eva wished she still had the book in her hands so she’d have something to swat the woman with. “We didn’t authorize that.”

  “Let’s go to my office, Mrs. Steinar. It’ll be much quieter there, don’t you think?”

  Eva flinched when her husband stood up and took her arm. Except for the three of them and an old woman in robe and slippers happily muttering to herself in front of the large screen TV, the room was empty.

  “Quieter than what?” she asked.

  The square woman smiled and offered to let Eva and her husband go ahead of her.

  * * *

  Arvada, Colorado

  “So, how’s everyone doing?”

  Slumped back against her chair, legs outstretched, arms folded across her chest, Jessie looked around the room. There were only four of them from the group and even though counselors and other ‘nonessential personnel’ were given the summer off, Ms. Samuels came in and opened her office every lunch hour so they, the summer rejects, could, if they felt like it, come in and talk about whatever was bothering them.

  None of them had missed a day since the first session started.

  Ms. Samuels nodded. “That good, huh?”

  Jessie slumped lower in her seat. She hadn’t said much those last few months after the hospital and Carly thing, and she had even less to say now, but just being there, with her kind – failures and freaks – helped. It was safe in Ms. Samuels’ office; it was where she belonged.

  An exaggerated sigh made Jessie turn to her left.

  “Hi, Nick, gay, bipolar, need three art units to get my diploma out of hock.”

  “Hi, Nick,” four voices answered.

  Nick produced another my life is over sigh. “My mother wants me to learn how to make mulgipuder.”

  “Muddy what?”

  “What the hell is that?”

  “It’s a traditional Estonian casserole –”

  “What’s Estonian?”

  “– made with potatoes and groats with a bacon sauce.”

  “What are groats?”

  “Hang on.” Jessie along with everyone else in the room watched and waited while Steff – gay, brilliant and taking summer classes just for fun…definitely a freak – double thumbed his iPhone. “Groats are the hulled kernels of various cereal grains, such as oats, wheat, rye and barley. And….” His fingers tap-tap-tapped. “Estonia is a country in Northern Europe bordered on the north by the Gulf of Finland, with Finland on the east and the Baltic Sea and Sweden on the west. Why does your mom want you to learn that?”

  Everyone turned back to Nick. He blushed all the way up to the roots of his white-blond hair.

  “Because she said it was her cooking that won my dad and she wants me to be able to find a man just as wonderful with my cooking.”

  “Awwwww.”

  “Well, I think that’s great, and keeping family traditions alive is keeping history alive. Now….” Ms. Samuels smiled. “How about you, Jessie? How are you doing?”

  Heads turned. Pushing herself into a semi-erect sitting position, Jessie studied the tops of her canvas boat shoes. She hated flip-flops, but that wasn’t much of a confession.

  “Hi. Jessie. Transgender. Still haven’t told my dad.”

  “Hi, Jessie.”

  “Um.”

  “How are your classes?”

  Jessie shrugged. “Okay.”

  “And…?” Ms. Samuels usually didn’t push, but Jessie definitely felt a shove.

  “Uh…. I, um, guess I miss my sister. She’s at the U.C.U.A. summer camp up in Aspen and—”

  “You’re a Onesies?”

  Jessie glared at Melissa, their bi anorexic. “We don’t like being called that.”

  “I always thought that sounded like something a baby would wear,” Steff said.

  “Yeah, baby nutcases,” Nick laughed.

  “Hey, safe zone, people,” Ms. Samuels reminded everyone. And everyone ignored her.

  “But you are?” Melissa asked.

  Jessie sat up straight and proud. “Yes, my whole family is. And we call ourselves True Borns because we are only born once and only have one body.”

  “So was I,” Melissa said. “We all were.”

  “Then all of you can join.”

  Melissa shook her head. “My dad says it’s not right.”

  “What’s not right?”

  “Hey,” Nick said, “I saw that demonstration up in Boulder, you know, on the news.”

  “Why don’t you just leave them alone?” Melissa asked. “They aren’t hurting you.”

  “Were you there?” Steff asked. “At the demonstration?”

  “Yeah,” Jessie answered Steff and ignored Melissa. “And it was great. And I mean it, all of you can join the U.C.U.A. It’s really great, besides the camp, we have, you know, lots of activities and my dad’s not only a minister, he’s the head of the Arvada Chapter and the other night he came home and showed my sister and me a way that can stop the Imps forever.”

  “Imps?”

  Jessie looked at Ms. Samuels and smiled. “Imposters, that’s what we call the Travelers, but they’re not going to be a problem for long. I can’t tell you how, you have to be a member to know that, but if you join—”

  “Stop!”

  Besides never pushing someone to talk, usually Ms. Samuels never raised her voice.

  Until that moment.

  Jessie felt her neck pop as she jerked her head up and she probably wasn’t the only one. The four of them were all staring at Ms. Samuels as she stood up, her arms wrapped around her belly like she was in pain.

  “How dare you. This is supposed to be a safe place, a sanctuary without prejudice or preconceived ideas about what a person is. How dare you come into this room and presume to know anything about people who found themselves in a situation they had no control over. I thought better of you, Jessie.” Ms. Samuels finally stopped staring at Jessie and looked at the others. “Don’t you understand, all of us are one thing on the outsid
e but something else underneath…just like a Traveler. They’re someone else inside.”

  Without taking her eyes off the woman who’d gotten her to open up about her feelings and told her it was okay to be different and pretended to care, Jessie grabbed her backpack off the floor and slowly stood up.

  “You’re one of them, aren’t you?”

  “Jessie, let me explain.”

  “You’re a Traveler.”

  The thing she’d known as Ms. Samuels licked her lips as, one by one by one, Melissa, Steff and Nick picked up their backpacks and book bags and stood up. The Imp took a deep breath and nodded.

  “Yes. I think the meeting’s over.”

  Jessie watched the three leave but couldn’t move. The Imp was standing between her and the door.

  “Jessie, please….”

  It took a step toward her and Jessie backed up so quickly she almost stumbled over the chair. The Imp walked back to its seat and sat down, hands raised as if she…it expected to be attacked. Jessie raced to the door.

  “Wait, please.” Jessie opened the door, keeping it between her and the Imp. “I’m not a monster.”

  “Yes, you are, all of you are. You don’t belong here.”

  “Don’t you think I know that? Jessie, I don’t know why this happened, but it did and I’m…Jessie, I’m just a person.”

  “You’re an imposter!”

  The Imp looked down. It was wearing a pale blue, sleeveless dress with a summer-weight sweater draped over its shoulders because Ms. Samuels always complained about the air-conditioning.

  Jessie wondered if the real woman who once wore that body had been bothered by the cold or if it liked blue summer dresses.

  “You’re right, Jessie, I was an imposter, but that was long before –” it lifted its hands and looked at them, “– this happened. My name was George Samuels and I was born in 1907 to a very respectable, very conservative family…and always knew that I’d been born into the wrong body. Just like you.”

  Jessie gripped the doorknob. “I’m not like you.”

  “I meant transgender. Back then the concept of gender dysphoria did not exist and was not even hinted at. If you acted or dressed like a member of the opposite sex you weren’t just called names. It wasn’t a very enlightened time, especially not in the small Nebraska town where my family had lived for generations, so, for the first eighteen years of my life I dressed and acted like the son my parents thought I was.”