Chances Are Omnibus (Gender Swap Fiction)

by P. T. Dilloway

  Feeling even more awkward now, I shuffle over to my former grandparents. Tess just kisses me once on the cheek and then hugs me. “Welcome home, dear,” she says. “You look so pretty.”

  “I’m still little,” I say.

  “That doesn’t matter, dear. Just as long as you’re healthy.”

  “I guess.”

  Maddy and Grace have finally come up for air. Maddy puts a hand on her stomach. “I guess there’s a lot more of me than you expected, isn’t there?”

  “I don’t care about that,” Grace says. “All I want is you, however you look.”

  “We’ll see about that tonight, won’t we?”

  I squirm out of Tess’s grasp to face them. “You’re going with Grace?”

  “Well, yeah. We got a lot of catching up to do.”

  “Oh,” I say. My voice catches in my throat. I look down sadly at my Keds. “I thought you’d come home with us.”

  Tess gives my shoulder a squeeze. “Madison and Grace need some time alone, dear.”

  “I guess.”

  Maddy squats down so she can look me in the eye. “Hey, come on, we can still come over to dinner and stuff. And you can come see us. You’re big enough to ride the train by yourself.”

  “I know.” I should have seen this coming. Maddy and Grace are practically married. They haven’t seen each other in six months, at least not as grown-ups, so of course they want to be alone. Maddy’s a grown-up now. So am I. I do what grown-ups are supposed to do and force myself to smile even though I want to cry at losing Madison again. “I guess it’ll be more room for me then.”

  Maddy crushes me in a hug; she squeezes me so tight I expect my skeleton to pop out like in a cartoon. “I love you, big sis.”

  “I love you too, little sis.”

  Then we go our separate ways, me to Jake and Tess’s station wagon and Maddy to a cab with Grace. I turn in my seat to wave at Maddy. She doesn’t see me; she’s already cuddling against Grace.

  ***

  I feel a little more like a big girl a week later. I wear a pink T-shirt, but no cartoon character on it. I’ve got a bra on underneath it too, not that I really need it. Instead of overalls I wear blue jeans. The Keds have grown on me so I decide to keep those for now. I got my hair trimmed to just past my shoulders, but I kept the bangs. I still have my red-framed glasses, only with new lenses in them.

  The overall effect is that as I sit in Dr. Macintosh’s waiting room I feel at least fourteen now instead of ten. It helps me to feel more grown up not to have Tess with me. She wanted to come upstairs, but I told her I could do it by myself, so she waits for me in a coffee shop.

  It doesn’t take long for me to regret that decision. As soon as I see the patient register sheet, I feel a nervous flutter in my stomach. After some discussion with Jake and I, Tess made the appointment under my old name of Stacey Chance. It feels weird to write that name in the space on the sheet. I keep my face tilted down and hope the receptionist doesn’t remember me from before.

  The receptionist isn’t the one I have to really worry about, though. I sit in a corner of the room to play with my phone a few minutes later when the door opens. Caleb trudges into the office, eyes fixed on his cell phone screen. To my horror, Jamie is behind him. I’m on my phone, so I can’t even hold up a magazine to my face. I just stare at the screen like Caleb is and hope for the best.

  While on the outside I pretend to play Angry Birds, on the inside I berate myself for being stupid. Why didn’t we think to check if Jamie had an appointment today? Why didn’t we get another psychologist? The answer for the latter is there’s not another shrink I can go see, not unless I want to spill all my secrets again. The former we just didn’t think about with so many other things going on.

  My heart starts to race when I see Jamie coming over here out of the corner of my eye. It’s probably the stupid glasses. I should have got different frames, but I still feel I owe it to Qiang to keep her daughter’s spirit alive in some small way.

  “Stacey?” Jamie asks.

  I look up at her so she can see I’m not the same girl who slept over at her house and talked about kissing boys with her. “Yes?”

  She stares at me for a moment; her cheeks flush. She smiles a little. “Sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

  “That’s all right,” I say. The butterflies in my stomach have turned to ice now. I hate to trick Jamie like this; I desperately wish we could still be best friends. I even still have her necklace on, though it’s hidden beneath my shirt. “It happens.”

  “But it’s weird because your name is Stacey too and you’ve got red glasses just like she has. What are the odds of that?”

  “Well—” I brace myself to run if Jamie figures it out. I’ve continued to post status updates on my Facebook page as Stacey Chang, to say what a great time Maddy and I are having at our new house in San Jose. I even found some pictures online of a mansion by the ocean to post on my wall. This might not be enough to fool her.

  “Hey, you’re playing Angry Birds?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s my favorite game.” Never all that shy, Jamie sits down next to me. She takes her phone out. “You want to play against me?”

  “Sure,” I say. “But my appointment’s in a few minutes.”

  “That’s OK. I can probably beat you before then.”

  “I don’t know, I’m pretty good at this.”

  “We’ll see.”

  I have gotten a lot better at it since that first time in the waiting room. I’m still not as good as Jamie. To put it mildly, she kicks my ass.

  Just like when we talk on Facebook, I feel ten years old again when I play Angry Birds against her. It’s only afterwards when she says, “You’re a lot better at this than the other Stacey,” that I remember I’m not ten. I’m some stranger Jamie just met who bears a resemblance to her former best friend.

  The receptionist calls my name and I stand up. “It was nice to meet you—”

  “Jamie,” she says. We shake hands, like strangers. “Maybe we can play again next time.”

  “Sure. I’ll make sure to practice before then.”

  “You’ll need it,” Jamie says. Then she goes over to sit by her brother. I make sure to turn off my phone because I know she’ll send Stacey Chang a message on Facebook to tell her about the freakiness of seeing another girl named Stacey at Dr. Macintosh’s office with the same geeky glasses.

  I tuck the phone into my pocket and go in to meet with Dr. Macintosh.

  ***

  I hope after all we’ve been through together he’ll run up to me and give me a hug or at least shake my hand. He doesn’t. He sits in his usual chair, notebook on his knee like I’m another patient. He points to the other chair, “Have a seat, Stacey.”

  I sit down opposite him, on the very edge of the cushion. I’m glad my feet can touch the floor now, if just barely. It takes an act of will for me to look at him. He doesn’t have a scar or anything, no reminder at all of the night he saved me and Maddy. “You’re looking good,” I say and then feel my face turn warm. “No worse for wear, huh?”

  “I could say the same about you.”

  I toss my hair and smile. “You like the new look?”

  “The important thing is whether you like it.”

  “It’s growing on me. I mean, it’s better than being a little kid, right?”

  “Is that right?”

  I can’t meet his eyes anymore; I look down at my pink Keds. “Well, yeah. I mean, I get to stay up late now. I have my own room. I don’t have to get up early to go to school.”

  “Those sound like pretty superficial reasons.”

  “Maybe I’m just shallow then,” I snap.

  “There’s no need to get upset. I only want you to think more deeply about the question. Are you happy to be an adult again?”

  “Sometimes,” I mumble.

  “Not all the time?”

  “No. Like just a couple minutes ago I was playing Angry Bird
s with Jamie in the lobby and that felt really good. We were having fun like we used to.”

  “I see. You miss your friend.”

  “Yeah. Is there anything wrong with that?”

  “Of course not. Jamie was very important to you, wasn’t she?”

  “Yes. She was my best friend in the whole world.” I take out the necklace so he can see it. “I thought about getting rid of this, but I couldn’t. She’s still my friend, you know?”

  “I see. But you still have other friends, don’t you? Friends closer to your own age?”

  “Sure, there’s still Grace.”

  “What about Madison? Isn’t she your friend?”

  My face turns warm again. I nod. “I kind of forget that she’s my friend now, not my little sister.” I laugh stupidly. “Pretty dumb, huh?”

  “Not at all. You were sisters for almost six months. I’m sure you forged a bond during that time.”

  “I thought we did.”

  “But you didn’t?”

  “As soon as we got out of the hospital, she went to stay with Grace. I mean, that same day. She hardly even said goodbye to me, she was in such a hurry to get back to that smelly old apartment.” I put a hand up before Dr. Macintosh can say anything. “I know it’s wrong to think that. I know she loves Grace.”

  “And she doesn’t love you?”

  “Not in that way.”

  “So you’re feeling something akin to empty nest syndrome? Your little bird has flown the nest and you’re all alone?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. It’s just that for those few months we were so close, probably closer than when I was her dad.” I cross my arms over my little B-cup breasts. “Now I’m back to being the third wheel.”

  “I’m sure Madison still values your friendship.”

  “Yeah, right. She’s only sent me one text since we left the hospital. You know what it said: ‘Fat sex is great!’ Oh, that’s kind of a spoiler, I guess. You haven’t seen her yet, have you?”

  “No, but Dr. Palmer told me she’s put on a bit of weight.”

  “Yeah, a bit.”

  “How does it make you feel that she’s put on that weight?”

  “It sucks.”

  “Very succinct.”

  “What else can I say? It sucks she’s fat. I would have given anything to make her just the way she was before all of this. Before I—”

  I start to cry. Dr. Macintosh brings me a box of tissues. “You still feel it’s your fault all of this happened?” he asks me. I can only nod in response. “Speaking from personal experience, Dr. Ling was a very sick individual. He would have gotten to you eventually.”

  “But not Maddy. He didn’t want her. Just me.”

  “Maybe. Maybe he did want her. Or maybe if he didn’t get her he would have taken your friend Grace or Mrs. Madigan or Mr. Madigan.”

  “So you’re telling me it could have been worse, right? Everything more or less worked out for the best, except Maddy is shopping at plus size stores and I’m—”

  “You’re what?” he asks.

  “I don’t know.” I wave at myself. “I don’t even know who I’m supposed to be anymore.”

  “Who do you want to be?”

  “I don’t know,” I say again.

  He reaches beside him for the mirror. I’m reluctant to take the thing, worried about what I’ll see. “Go on, tell me what you see.”

  I force myself to look into the glass. In it I see the pieces of myself: the glasses and Asian features of Stacey Chang; the shy smile of Stacey Chance; the steel in my eyes of Detective Steve Fischer. “I see a girl who’s sweet and a little shy, but who’s tough when she has to be. I see a girl who cares about her friends, especially Madison.”

  “Is that all?”

  “No. I see a girl who loves to sing. Maybe she won’t ever be a famous singer like Lady Gaga, but she wants to go on stage and make people happy, like she did at that presentation.”

  “That’s very good, Stacey.”

  “I passed the test?”

  “You’re getting there.”

  I clear my throat. “I was looking online the other day at the schedule for my old school—community college, not St. Andrew’s. Did you know they have a lot of classes about music? Not just listening to it or playing an instrument either. I saw this songwriting class I thought might be interesting.”

  “You want to be a songwriter?”

  “I don’t know. I think at least I’d like to know how to do it. I mean when Darren wrote that song for me—the one we did for the encore—I looked at it and it was like Greek, you know? All those squiggly symbols and stuff. If I’m going to sing, it might be nice to know what all those mean.”

  “I think that’s a good idea.”

  “If I can still sing. I’m not sure I can even do it anymore. It’ll probably sound like one of those Chipmunk songs.”

  “Let’s find out. Go ahead and sing something.”

  “Now?”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, OK, but don’t be too hard on me.” I clear my throat a couple of times. I take a deep breath. Then, like the last time I sang in his office, I do “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.” It sounds a little screechy to my ears.

  Dr. Macintosh is far more forgiving. “That’s very nice. With some training you could be a soprano.”

  “You mean like a gangster?”

  “No, I mean like an opera singer. Soprano is the highest range.”

  “Opera? Yuck.”

  “You can sing popular music too. Or maybe you could be an actress on Broadway.”

  I shiver at that and remember how hard it was to be on stage the last time. If Darren hadn’t been there I’d have probably run away again. “I don’t know, maybe.” I laugh stupidly. “You see what I mean, though? You say soprano and I think you’re talking about TV.”

  “Do you think you might want to get a degree in music?”

  “I don’t know about that. It’s a little soon to decide.”

  “True. You’re young. You have time.”

  “I guess.” I clear my throat again. “I never really got the chance to thank you for saving me and Maddy. If you hadn’t shown up then, he probably would have shipped us both to China. Or just killed us.”

  “It was my pleasure.”

  “Jake’s still pissed you totaled his car to do it.”

  We share a smile at that. “I’ll have to reimburse him for the repairs.”

  “Or you could help him fix it. You two could go work in the garage, a couple of manly men getting all greasy.” As I say this, I start to see the scene in my head and my face turns warm out of embarrassment. I squeak, “Or not. Whatever.”

  “I can’t promise I’d be a lot of help. I don’t know much about cars.”

  “Yeah, you can’t even drive a stick.” There’s something else I haven’t told Dr. Macintosh: ever since that night he saved us, I’ve dreamed about him. It’s more like I’ve fantasized about him. After I woke up, I kept seeing him in my mind, in the doorway of the lavatory, the blood on his face and gun in his hand, like James Bond. I remember how warm and safe I felt to be with him.

  That explains why I shoot out of my chair to kiss him. It’s kind of like when I kissed Darren, at least until he opens his mouth. Darren and I were too little to ever use tongues. We never made a kiss last this long either, to the point where I’m about to pass out.

  Only then do I pull away, to sag onto my chair. “I’m sorry,” I whisper once I’ve caught my breath.

  He straightens his tie, smoothes down his hair, and then says, “I think that’s it for today.”

  ***

  Despite how my last gig ended, the karaoke bar is eager to take me back. The price is down to just one hundred dollars. That’s OK; I don’t care about the money so much as to see if I can really do it. For the next week I practice the songs Darren and I used to do, except I don’t have him to accompany me. Tess is the closest I have to a music coach, though she’d applaud if I burped the
alphabet.

  On the way to the karaoke bar I think about Dr. Macintosh. I sent him an e-vite, but I doubt he’ll show up. He’s probably too embarrassed about it. I’m a little embarrassed too. That was really the first time I acted like I was seventeen, doing something stupid and impulsive. Maybe me being so young is part of the problem. Technically it’s illegal for us to kiss, at least until I’m eighteen. But my ID says I’m nineteen and inside I’m over fifty, which I’m sure he knows too.

  My fan club is already at the bar; Grace and Maddy are in the front row like last time. They’ve got seats saved for Tess and Jake. “You look great,” Grace says.

  Then it’s Maddy’s turn. She still isn’t used to being so big; when she hugs me it’s so tight I expect to hear bones snap. “Go get ‘em, big sis.”

  “Thanks, little sis,” I say and we both smile.

  From there I’m on my own. Before my knees would be jelly and my stomach doing flips. Not this time. I feel pretty good about it. When I worry about it, I remember that applause during my presentation with Darren. I remind myself I can do this; I can be a singer. It’s my gift. Not the best gift I’ve got from all this. That gift sits in the front row: my daughter, my best friend, and my surrogate grandparents. Eighteen months ago I had no one but Jake and a bottle and now I have a whole little family. What’s not to like about that?

  I go off to a corner backstage so I can run through my scales. This new voice takes a little getting used to. As I continue to practice, I hear the emcee say, “Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we have a special treat. Back for a return engagement, Miss Stacey Chance.”

  There’s a smattering of applause, most of it probably from my family. I take a couple of deep breaths and then go out there. There are a lot of people in the bar, a lot of eyes on me. A month ago I would have been terrified, but now I just smile. I can do this, I tell myself. After all the weird shit I’ve been through in the last eighteen months, this should be easy.

  I count off to three and then signal the emcee to hit it. The karaoke machine isn’t much of an accompaniment. It’s just a dumb machine, not at all like Darren, with his passion for the music I could feed off of. I do the best I can; I close my eyes and focus on singing “Anything Goes.”