Chances Are Omnibus (Gender Swap Fiction)

by P. T. Dilloway

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t need you to write one for me this time. I just need help getting started.”

  He looks down at his piano and thinks it over. Finally he nods to me. “OK. What do you want to write about?”

  “Um, well, love I guess,” I say. I remember what Maddy said. “There’s this friend of mine. She’s been seeing someone for a long time and she wants that person to marry her, but that person is reluctant.”

  “Is this about you and Uncle Bob?”

  “No!” I laugh stupidly. “It’s a couple of friends of mine, Madison and Grace.”

  “Oh,” he says.

  “Do you want me to write a song for your uncle?”

  Darren nods. “Then you can be here all the time.”

  “Well not all the time,” I say. “I still have to work.”

  “But most of the time. Then you and Uncle Bob can adopt me.”

  I have to sit down at this announcement. I sit next to Darren and lean close to him. I never realized he wanted me to adopt him. I thought he resented me taking his mom’s place. “That’s very sweet,” I say. “I’m not sure it’ll happen. What if your mom gets better?”

  “She won’t.” Darren says this with such conviction that I don’t know what to say. “She’s never going to get better.”

  “You can’t give up hope, Darren. Your mom needs your support.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Come on, let’s write a song. What do we do first?”

  “Well, when I write a song, I close my eyes and listen.”

  “Listen to what?”

  “To the muse or whatever.”

  “Oh. I see.”

  “You don’t believe me.”

  “I didn’t say that.” I close my eyes and try to listen for any little voice, a muse or whatever.

  I do hear something. It is like someone whispers in my ear. At first I think it must be Darren, but it’s my voice. I know from the words I’m talking to Mac, to say what I should have said last night. These are the words that will make him want to marry me.

  I open my eyes. I ask Darren, “Can I borrow your notebook?”

  Chapter 6

  I know Maddy is still depressed when we go to a Chinese buffet restaurant for dinner. From the heaps of General Tso’s chicken, pepper steak, and fried shrimp on her plate I know it’s bad. Whenever Maddy abandons her vegetarianism, it means she’s really depressed.

  “So how did it go at the police station?” I ask.

  “OK,” she says between mouthfuls.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t look fine.” She looks like a wreck, especially with General Tso sauce on the front of the sweatshirt she didn’t change out of.

  “It was a little weird,” she says. “The weirdest part is looking at his handwriting; it’s pretty much the same as mine. Can that be hereditary?”

  “I don’t know. Ask Dr. Palmer.”

  “I might have to. Anyway, Dad really needed an iPad. I could hardly read anything he scribbled down. And half of what I could read was barely in English. It’ll take me days to interpret the stuff I copied.”

  “He was probably in a hurry,” I say, to defend my awful penmanship. It’s gotten a little better since I became a woman, though not much. Now my gibberish has more loops and swirls in it.

  “I guess,” Maddy says. She chomps down a mouthful of shrimp. “The stuff I was reading for this Vollmer thing was back when I was two or so. I don’t really remember any of it. I thought maybe seeing his words would help, but it didn’t.”

  “You were too little to remember anything. I don’t remember anything until I was three or four.”

  “Yeah.” Maddy polishes off her plate. I have to wait for her to come back with another one before she continues, “It’s kind of stupid, but I was hoping this would help me see him in a new way. I thought I might see what made him tick. You know, like what kind of guy he was that he could leave me and Mom and never talk to us again.”

  “Oh,” I say. I eat some fried rice while I try to think of what to say. “I’m sure he still loved you.”

  She considers that while she finishes off the second plate of food. “I think it did tell me what I wanted to know. All he ever cared about was work. He never had time for anything else, especially not me.”

  There’s not a lot I can say to that. The factual evidence supports Maddy’s claim. I missed out on most of her life long before her mom and I divorced. It was only in my heart that I felt differently. I can’t tell Maddy that, unless I tell her who I really am. Then I’ll probably lose her forever.

  I try to change the subject. “I wrote a song today.”

  “Good for you.”

  “I did like you said. I wrote a song for you and Grace.”

  “You did?”

  “Yeah.” My face turns warm. “Darren helped tweak the wording. I’ll have to give him credit on the album.”

  “Can I see it?”

  “If your hands are clean.”

  “Fine. Sing it to me then.”

  “Maybe later.”

  “You don’t want to do it in a restaurant full of people? I thought you liked an audience,” she teases.

  I reluctantly pass the notebook to her. “Here.”

  As she reads it, her cheeks turn red. Tears start to come to her eyes. “Oh my God,” she says. “This is so awesome.”

  “You think so?”

  “It’s exactly right.” She reaches across the table to take my hand. “Don’t you and Darren change a word of it.”

  “I won’t.”

  ***

  I splurge on a cab back home, so nothing will happen to my notebook on the train. Jake and Tess have already gone to bed when I sneak into the house. I’m sure Tess will scold me about that tomorrow, even though I’m too old for a curfew. She’s of that old school that says, “Nothing good happens after midnight.” Which is true in my experience.

  I go straight up to my room and leave the notebook on the vanity. By then I barely have the energy to change out of my schoolgirl clothes, into a nightgown. I crawl into bed and hug Pinky while I wish it was Mac.

  I’m glad Maddy likes the song, though I really wrote it for Mac and I. I suppose it can work for either of us; our journey towards marriage has been about the same. Mine has a lot more weird twists. Five years ago I was a broken down drunk who wallowed in grief, certain I’d never love anyone again and now I’m a young woman with a boyfriend who will hopefully get the courage to marry her.

  I’m roused from sleep when something taps against my window. At first I assume it’s a bug or the wind. Then I hear the sound again. It happens twice more in quick succession.

  I finally crawl out of bed. For lack of a weapon I keep Pinky in hand. I put on my glasses and then go over to the window. I part the curtains and see it was no natural phenomenon.

  It’s Mac, armed with a handful of pebbles. I remember doing something similar to Darren when I was his girlfriend. I open the window. “What are you doing?” I hiss. “Do you know what time it is?”

  ‘“What light through yonder window breaks,”’ Mac says. He sounds as if he’s reading off his free hand. He continues:

  It is the east, and Juliet is the sun!--

  Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,

  Who is already sick and pale with grief,

  That thou her maid art far more fair than she:

  Be not her maid, since she is envious;

  Her vestal livery is but sick and green—

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Didn’t you read Romeo & Juliet in college?”

  “No. But Maddy did make me watch that movie with Leonardo diCaprio.”

  “I played Romeo in high school,” he says.

  “So what?”

  “I was trying to be romantic.”

  “Oh.”

  “Will you come down here?”

  “Maybe you
should scale the wall, up to my balcony.”

  “Only if you throw down a ladder.”

  I shake my head at him. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

  My hands shake so badly that it takes more than a minute for me to change into a T-shirt and jeans, run a comb through my hair, and slip on a pair of shoes. As much as I’d like to look perfect, like I did that night at Lorenzo’s, there’s no time. At least I won’t look so goofy as if I come down there in a pink flannel nightgown and fuzzy slippers.

  I want to run through the house, but I have to be careful so I don’t wake Tess up. I creep down the stairs and pause when one creaks. I don’t hear anything, so I keep going.

  I shut the front door gently and then race around to the backyard. I throw myself at Mac, our recent troubles forgotten. He doesn’t expect it, so we tumble to the ground. The grass is wet with dew that stains the back of my shirt and pants as I lie on the grass. I giggle like an idiot as Mac helps me up. This time he’s ready for me to throw my arms around his neck the way I did to Tess earlier. I shower him with kisses; I end with one on his lips.

  “That was really sweet,” I say. “Am I really your Juliet?”

  “Yes. I just hope you don’t run any daggers through your heart.”

  “Only if you poison yourself.”

  “Maybe I should have used another play,” he says. “That one doesn’t end very well.”

  “Maybe we can fix that,” I say. I give him another kiss.

  He shakes me off and then does what I’ve dreamed of for the last couple of days. He gets down on one knee. He reaches into his pocket to take out a blue velvet box. When he opens it, I see a diamond ring. The diamond is about the size of a pea, which must have set him back quite a bit. It’s set in a gold band that overall is kind of plain, but classy—like me.

  “Stacey Chance, will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?”

  “Hell yes,” I shout. I let him slip the ring on my finger before I bowl him over again. In between kisses I smile at him. “What took you so long?”

  Part 2:

  Wedding Bells

  Chapter 7

  Tess is the first one I tell about my impending nuptials. Not exactly by choice, though I would have definitely told her first thing in the morning. Instead I get a chance to tell her much earlier when she comes out to the backyard in her robe and slippers, one of Jake’s golf clubs in hand.

  She finds Mac and I in a somewhat compromising position. We’re both fully clothed, but Mac is on top of me. From Tess’s point of view it might have looked like we were about to fuck right on Tess’s lawn. Tess is kind of prudish about these things, so it’s no surprise when she roars, “What is the meaning of this?”

  Mac tumbles off me and lands next to me on the grass. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Madigan—”

  “Stacey, what are you doing out here? It’s the middle of the night.”

  I spring to my feet and hold up my left hand. “Grandma, look!” With the glee of a toddler on Christmas morning I rush at her to show her the ring. “Isn’t it pretty?”

  “Oh my,” Tess says.

  That’s all she can get out before I jump on her, arms around her neck. I give her a kiss on the cheek. “We’re getting married, Grandma! Isn’t it wonderful?”

  “Yes, dear,” she says. She sounds almost disappointed.

  “Are you really happy for me?” I ask. I slip back to the ground. My mood does a one-eighty; tears come to my eyes. “You probably still don’t think I should.”

  “Oh, no, dear, of course not,” Tess says. She pats me on the back. “I’m very happy for you. For both of you.” Then Tess gets back into her comfort zone as my surrogate grandma. “Let’s go inside before you catch your death out here. I’ll make you both some hot cocoa.”

  Part of me wants to protest being treated like a child. The rest of me notes it is kind of cold out here in just a T-shirt and jeans, especially when I’m wet from the dew. “OK,” I say. I take my fiancé’s hand to lead him into the house.

  Mac and I wait in the dining room while Tess fusses around in the kitchen to make the cocoa. This gives me a chance to study the ring under the better light of the dining room. The diamond is even more spectacular than I imagined, the way it gleams with an inner fire. I give a low whistle and say, “This must have set you back a pretty penny.”

  “Actually, it was free.”

  “What, did you steal it?” I ask with a grin.

  Mac shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “It was my grandmother’s ring.”

  “Oh,” I say. “It was just earlier you said you went to the jewelry store—”

  “I did, but this time I wanted to do something special.”

  “I see,” I say. “You didn’t think I was special enough before.”

  “It’s not that,” he says. He looks down at the table. “I had to ask my mother for it. She was holding out for Mary Anne to wear it—” His voice trails off as it always does when the topic of his sister comes up.

  Tears bubble up in my eyes again. I lean over to kiss him on the lips. “God, I’m so sorry,” I say. “I know how hard that must have been.”

  “But it’s worth it,” he says. He gives me a kiss.

  We’re interrupted by Tess again; this time she carries a tray of three steaming mugs. “Here you go, dears,” she chirps. She sets the mugs down in front of us. Once we finally have to come up for air, we turn to face her.

  “I assume you two don’t have a date yet?” Tess asks.

  “No ma’am,” Mac says, to act like a good future surrogate in-law.

  “Have you given any thought to what kind of service you’re going to have?”

  To buy some time, I take a long pull from my mug. Then I dab at some whipped cream around my mouth. “I’m not sure,” I say. “We’ll have to talk it over.”

  “You are going to have a service, aren’t you? Or are you just going to do it at the courthouse?” I know which option Tess prefers. Being a good Christian she wants me to get married at the Episcopalian church where she and Jake got married, the one they still attend every week and I go to when I can.

  “We have to talk about that too,” I say.

  Tess takes a sip of her cocoa and then smiles. “I don’t mean to be such a worrywart,” she says. “I’m very happy for you both.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Madigan,” Mac says.

  “What’s going on down here?” Jake asks from the doorway. He still wears only a T-shirt and plaid boxers. At least he didn’t bring his gun with him. “What are you doing here?”

  Before Mac can say anything, I turn around and hold out my hand. “Mac and I are getting married!”

  “Tonight?”

  “Don’t be silly, Grandpa. He just proposed to me.”

  “Oh.” He lurches over to give me a hug. As he does, I can smell stale alcohol on his breath. He must have hit the bottle in his study. “Congratulations, sweetheart.”

  “Thanks, Grandpa.”

  “Would you like anything, dear?” Tess asks.

  “I think I’ll just leave the lovebirds to their business and go back to bed,” Jake says and then staggers out of the room, back upstairs.

  “Well, I suppose he’s right,” Tess says with a thin smile. She stands up and then pats my hand. “Don’t stay up too late, dear.”

  I wait until Tess is gone to turn to Mac. “So,” I start, “when are you thinking of getting hitched?”

  ***

  We talk about it for a couple of hours, until we’re both exhausted. Mac, being a gentleman, crashes on the living room couch while I go upstairs to my bed. Unable to sleep, I watch the moonlight sparkle off the ring on my finger.

  All the joy from earlier starts to ferment into nervousness in my stomach. Even the last few days when I thought Mac would propose, I haven’t considered the details of the wedding much.

  My first wedding was the traditional kind, held in the Methodist church Debbie’s parents had been married in. Our wedding was not long aft
er the famous Princess Diana and Prince Charles one, so of course Debbie had to have a dress like hers, though she couldn’t get a train nearly as long. I was certainly no prince; my eyes were red with dark circles around them from drinking with my groomsmen the night before —Jake and a couple other buddies from the force. I did wear my formal uniform, the only time I ever wore it freshly-pressed and neat as the day it came out of the factory.

  I get maybe two hours of sleep before I get up. Mac is already up and has found where Tess keeps the coffee. “Hey,” he says and then gives me a kiss. “Have a rough night?”

  “Is it that noticeable?”

  “Only for someone who’s used to seeing you in the morning.”

  “Gee, thanks.” I’m grateful for the cup of coffee he hands to me. I drink it black this morning; I need the extra bitterness to help wake me up.

  Mac puts an arm around me. “This isn’t going to change anything with us,” he says. “It’s just going to make our love official to the rest of the world, right?”

  “Right,” I say, a tremble of uncertainty in my voice.

  “Are you worried about the preparations?”

  “A little.” I take another gulp of coffee. “When I got married before, I didn’t have to do anything except show up. Debbie insisted on doing everything herself. This time—”

  “We can hire someone to help you.”

  “I guess.” I look up into Mac’s warm eyes. “It’s just last night with Grandma Tess scared me a little. I don’t want to upset anyone. I want this to be a happy occasion.”

  “It will be,” he says. “Whatever problems come up, we’ll get through it. Right?”

  “Right,” I say again, just as uncertainly.

  Mac gives me another, longer kiss to try to shake some of my doubts away. “Why don’t you go up and take a shower and then I’ll drive you into work?”

  “All right,” I say. I stand on my toes to give him another peck on the cheek. “Thanks.”

  ***

  My legs look even grosser today than before I shaved last night. The hairs are so long it’s hard to see any skin underneath. Am I becoming a werewolf? I don’t feel like making Mac wait while I shave them again, so I throw on some pants to cover them up after I shower. I put on a clean T-shirt and tie my hair in a sloppy ponytail so I might look sixteen today instead of fourteen. A sixteen-year-old with an engagement ring. My cheeks turn red in the mirror at that thought.