Second Chances

by P. D. Cacek

  Abbie would have to look up.

  The thought brought a different kind of dizziness. Jessie leaned forward and took a deep breath. The nurse grabbed the body, steadying it.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Dizzy?”

  “A little.” Jessie stood up. “It’s better.”

  “You sure? As much as we need you walking, we can take this as slow as you like.”

  “I’m okay.”

  The nurse nodded, but didn’t move his hand away until he walked around to Jessie’s left.

  “Take a couple more deep breaths,” the nurse told him, “and for what it’s worth, you’re doing great. Like I said, there’s no rush, just take your time.”

  Jessie took another deep breath and, gripping the walker’s handles tighter, looked down as the right foot slid forward across the polished floor. Decked out in its bright yellow terrycloth hospital sock with rubberized soles, the foot looked even bigger than it had when Jessie first saw it tented under a blanket.

  “What size are they?” Jessie asked as the left eased up and out, taking the lead. The wheels rumbled softly as the walker moved forward.

  The nurse moved his hand to the small of the back and looked down. “Not sure offhand, but they seem to be working just fine. Think they can make it all the way around the floor and back?”

  The feet didn’t seem to have a problem with that, nor did the hands, which, after Jessie wiped the palms dry against the robe, seemed perfectly at ease gripping the walker’s rubber handles. The body might have gotten great PT and was healing nicely, but the jellyfish inside was doing good just keeping it upright and moving forward.

  Jessie felt sweat coating the forehead before they were halfway down the first corridor.

  “You’re doing great. Getting tired?”

  A bead of sweat rolled down the right temple. “Yeah. A. Little.”

  “Okay, why don’t we pull in here for a pit stop?”

  Jessie should have known there’d be an ambush.

  They were waiting for him: the Traveler named Millie and some old guy in a rumpled business suit and tie. The suit didn’t fool Jessie; the man had doctor written all over him. They both stood up as Jessie push-shuffled into the room.

  “Here, let me help you.” The man reached for the walker but the nurse stopped him.

  “He can do it,” the nurse said and stayed at Jessie’s back as the body push-shuffled to a chair at the opposite side of the room. Millie, the Traveler, applauded when Jessie sat down.

  “That was fine, Jessie, just fine. You won’t be needing that walker for long.”

  “No, he won’t.” The nurse put the walker next to Jessie’s chair and winked. “You did great, kid, I’ll come pick you up in a bit.”

  Jessie watched the nurse leave as the woman and the doctor sat down.

  “How are you feeling?” the doctor asked.

  Why did doctors always ask that same question? Jessie leaned back in the chair and folded the hands.

  “Well, um, Jessie, my name’s Barney Ellison and I’m a—”

  The hands tightened into claws. “I know who you are.”

  “You do?”

  Jessie made the mouth smile and hoped it felt as menacing on the outside as it did on the inside.

  “Every True Born knows who you are. You could have stopped them when they first showed up, but you didn’t. You let all this happen.”

  “No, I didn’t, Jess—”

  “Jessie!” The hands grabbed the chair arms, nails that were too short clawing at the upholstery. “My name’s Jessie! Jess is my….”

  “Your father?”

  Jessie tried to make the hands push the body up, but they didn’t have enough strength yet and the body fell back. Millie was out of her chair and two steps toward him when the doctor stopped her.

  “I’m sorry, Jessie, we don’t have to talk about it now, but I will need to ask you some questions later.” He nodded and Millie sat down. “And despite whatever it is that you’ve been told about me, I didn’t do anything. I was and still am just a witness.”

  “But you could have stopped it.”

  “How?”

  “You could have sent them back.”

  The doctor leaned back as Millie looked away.

  “You mean kill them.”

  “They were already dead.”

  “And you think that makes it right?”

  Jessie dragged the too-short nails across the arms of the chair. “Yes.”

  “Because they were dead.”

  “Yes.”

  “Like you were?”

  Jessie let the hands go slack. “Yes.”

  “Do you still wish you were dead?”

  Jessie turned and looked at Millie. She didn’t look up. “I don’t belong here.”

  “Answer my question, Jessie.”

  “Yes, I wish I was dead, but I’m not going to do anything, okay?” Jessie watched Millie take a deep breath before turning back to the doctor. “I might come back again.”

  “Well, whatever the reason, I’m glad because you are a pretty special case, Jessie Pathway, and I need you to understand that, okay? We’ve never had a Traveler….” The doctor looked at Millie and bobbed his head. “Newcomer, sorry. We’ve never had a Newcomer come back as quickly as you did.”

  Jessie sighed and folded the arms across the flat chest. It felt different without the breasts, but the gesture wasn’t lost.

  “Did she tell you about Ms. Samuels?”

  The doctor nodded and pulled an envelope out of his coat pocket. Opening it, he took out two folded pieces of printer paper and handed Jessie the one on top.

  Jessie opened it and felt the body’s stomach clench. It was a printout of Jessica Faith Pathway’s obituary notice from the online edition of The Denver Post. Fingers that were too long and too thin traced the school photo.

  Dr. Ellison cleared his throat. “You were a very pretty girl, Jessie.”

  “My sister still is.”

  “The announcement said you were twins.”

  Jessie nodded. “Yeah, were.”

  “Would you like to see your sister and father?”

  “No! You said you read it, didn’t you? I’m dead, they buried me.” Jessie flapped the paper in Dr. Ellison’s face then watched the long, thin fingers tear it into confetti. “They can’t find out. Okay? Please?”

  The last thing Jessie wanted to do was cry, but the body didn’t co-operate. It sat there and sobbed for what felt like hours and Jessie couldn’t stop it. The only thing that helped was that Millie and Dr. Ellison didn’t move, didn’t try to touch or offer comfort. They just sat there and waited until the tears stopped.

  And Jessie was grateful for that, at least.

  “We won’t tell them, Jessie,” Dr. Ellison said. “It’s not up to us to do that. Are you okay?”

  The head nodded but Jessie wasn’t so sure. “Can I go back to my room now? I’m tired.”

  “I know you are, Jessie, but can you just give me a few more minutes?” Dr. Ellison stood, walked across the room and sat down in the chair to Jessie’s right. “Millie, will you excuse us, please?”

  Jessie jumped when Millie touched the bony shoulder as she walked out of the room.

  The doctor, the monster, the man Jessie had been taught to hate, took a deep breath.

  “Look, I don’t know how you feel, but—”

  “Do you want to know how I feel?” Jessie asked. “Damned for all eternity, unclean. I’m an imposter, an abomination in the eyes of the Lord.”

  “According to the teachings of the U.C.U.A.” He smiled. “What, you think I haven’t heard enough of that rant? Or don’t know what they call me? But they’re wrong, Jessie…you’re wrong; if you and the others are anything, you’re miracl
es, pure and simple. I was just lucky enough to be there at the start.”

  Jessie huffed.

  “Yes, lucky. Of course that also meant that I was given the honor of becoming one of the supposed experts, which I’m not, but I’m still supposed to be the head honcho, the top dog, the big kahuna, the enchilada grande. What do you kids call the person in charge nowadays?”

  Jessie huffed again. “The person in charge.”

  “Ah. Well, yeah, that’s me, but the truth of the matter is I’m only in charge of the Traveler Center in Simi Valley for Ventura and Los Angeles Counties and…what?”

  Jessie shook the head. “You know that’s a really stupid name. Traveler Center? Sounds like a truck stop.”

  “We had to call it something.” Dr. Ellison sat back, crossed one leg over the other. “What would you call it?”

  “Purgatory?”

  He smiled. “That’s already been used, I’m afraid.”

  Jessie scratched an itch next to the nose and pulled off a long flake of skin.

  “Oh, please, don’t do that. It turns my stomach.”

  “It does?” Jessie dropped the skin on the floor and held up the hand. “But this doesn’t?”

  “That’s different.”

  “Not from this side.” Jessie let the hand drop. “Can I go now?”

  Dr. Ellison looked down at the second folded piece of paper. “You told Millie you’re…you were transgender, which might be the reason you woke up in a young male body.”

  “Yeah, instant gender reassignment. So now my body’s a better fit for who I am inside?”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I think happened, Jessie, and while I know there are others, many, many others, you are the first gender switch I’ve met.”

  “Then you need to see Ms. Samuels.”

  Jessie watched him glance toward the folded paper in his hand. “Ms. Georgina Samuels.”

  “Then talk to her, I’m tired. Okay?”

  “Okay.” Jessie watched him put the folded paper back into the envelope. “Last question.”

  Jessie groaned.

  “Why did you kill yourself?”

  Jessie leaned forward and stared into the man’s eyes. “Because I watched my friend die and didn’t even try to kill the Traveler that took over her body. I should have done it even if my dad wouldn’t. I owed her that much.”

  Grabbing the walker, Jessie pulled the body to its feet and glared down at the man who’d been there from the very beginning and could have stopped it.

  “Maybe this is my punishment for not saving Carly’s body from—”

  Music filled Jessie’s head and the lungs gasped for breath.

  “Jessie?” Dr. Ellison stood up. “What is it? What’s the matter?”

  “Shh!”

  “What? What do you hear?”

  “Shh!”

  A single piano began playing, the music soft and familiar. Jessie recognized it and tears filled his eyes.

  “Jessie, what’s wrong?”

  The piano was joined by a single voice. Ellison pushed Jessie back into the chair and moved the walker away.

  “Jessie, you’re starting to scare me. What’s going on?”

  “Shh. Listen. Isn’t it beautiful?”

  “I don’t hear anything. What do you hear?”

  Jessie took a deep breath. “Abbie singing. It’s ‘Bring Him Home’ from Les Misérables. Have you seen it?”

  “Yes. I took my wife to see the movie. She wasn’t impressed.”

  “The stage musical’s better.” Abbie’s voice rose pure and steady and when the song ended Jessie heard their father’s voice.

  The one who dwelled within this body is gone and has taken with her a soul that was hers and hers alone. We who are left behind ask that her soul be kept only unto this body and not return. As it was and always shall be, one body, one soul for now and all eternity. One body. One soul. Now and forever. Amen.

  “Jessie, what do you hear?”

  “My funeral.”

  * * *

  Barney put the envelope back into his coat pocket as he watched the boy walk away, pointedly ignoring the giant dressed in nursing scrubs who hovered at his side.

  It was a slow walk, small sliding steps between the wheeled guardrails of the walker. It was an old man’s walk, but that would change once the muscles in the legs regained their strength.

  Barney heard Millie’s quick steps a full minute before she reached his side.

  “Where’s Jessie headed? I brought a few books.” He turned to watch her pull three paperbacks out of her ever-present bag. “Not sure what Jessie likes, but I thought these might do.”

  Barney took the books and smiled. They were all H.G. Wells reprints. Millie’s tastes ran to the classics.

  “I think he will,” he said and handed them back and watched them disappear back into the bag.

  “Well?”

  “Well,” Barney repeated. “I think Jessie was having a hard enough time even before this happened. I’ll ask that a psychological evaluation be done.”

  “You’re not going to do it?”

  “No, I’d rather it be done by the hospital. He has a certain, shall we say, well-learned prejudice against me. If I tested him and felt there was sufficient evidence of schizophrenia similar to that of the donor, my diagnosis might come under suspicion.”

  “You think there might be?”

  Barney thought about what had just happened. There might be other answers to what he just saw besides schizophrenia, but none came immediately to mind.

  “I don’t know and that’s why I want him evaluated. Schizophrenia is all about brain chemistry, Millie, and we have no idea whether the physical brain changes when a Traveler wakes or if it simply adapts and accommodates the new memories. But I saw him phase out and experience what might have been auditory hallucinations.”

  “That poor, poor child.”

  “I know, Millie, but let’s not jump the gun. First he has to be tested and then, even if he’s diagnosed, there are antipsychotics that can and will help. Besides, the donor’s parents have agreed to take Jessie in and they already know what to do.”

  Millie didn’t look happy, but did look a bit more relieved. “Well, thank God for that. Did you tell him about Ms. Samuels?”

  Barney pressed his hand against the front of his coat and shook his head. It was a copy of Georgina Samuels’ obituary, dated a few days after Jessie’s, and listed her death as the result of carbon monoxide poisoning.

  It wouldn’t do Jessie any good to see it.

  Not now, not ever.

  July

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Haverford, Pennsylvania

  “I don’t understand what the problem is. He’s been awake for almost a month now. He’s eating and walking by himself and Dr. Groundling said he’s strong enough to leave. So why are we still talking about this?”

  “It’s just that I think it might be in Jessie’s best interest if—”

  Mrs. Steinar, the donor’s bereaved mother, stopped Barney with a wave of her hand.

  “I really don’t care what you think, Dr. Ellison. We signed all the release papers and took all the caregiving classes, which I want to tell you was insulting. I’ve had a child, Dr. Ellison, I know what to do.”

  Barney nodded. He’d been warned about Mrs. Steinar, but Mr. Steinar had yet to open his mouth or meet Barney’s eyes since they’d walked into the conference room. Despite what their file stated about their willingness to bring Jessie into their home, it didn’t take any of Barney’s medical skill and knowledge to know Mr. Steinar wasn’t as happy with the new direction their lives were about to take as his wife seemed to be.

  “I have no doubt you do, Mrs. Steinar—”

  “So why did you just say he can’t come home with us?”
>
  “I didn’t say that. All I said was that I don’t think now is the right time for Jessie to move into a less structured setting. He’s doing very well as an in-house out-patient here—”

  “It’s a home,” Mrs. Steinar interrupted, “not a setting. Jessie is only seventeen…in here.” She tapped her sternum. “Do you honestly think a hospital is better for him than a warm and loving home?”

  Barney looked at the team of doctors who had worked both with the Steinars’ son and Jessie and saw them look back without offering so much as a shrug. They didn’t care if Jessie stayed or left; they had other patients, both True Borns as Jessie called them and Travelers, to care for.

  He couldn’t fault them. He’d flown back and forth from LAX to PHL so many times over the previous thirteen days (and nights) that the next trip he took with Amandine would be free.

  Round trip.

  “You’re right, Mrs. Steinar, a home environment would be the best thing for Jessie –” He tried to ignore the woman’s smug look. “– but I have some concerns.”

  The woman sat up. “And they are?”

  “About Jessie’s medication.” Barney saw the husband finally look up. “It was noted in Curtis’s file that when he was brought in—”

  “That won’t happen again.” Mr. Steinar was staring at his wife. “I can promise you that.”

  Ah. “I’m glad to hear it because it does appear that Jessie is suffering the same disorder, but seems to be responding with a much lower dose than your son was prescribed. That’s one of the reasons I’d like him to stay here, just for a few more weeks, until we’re sure the dosage is correct.”

  “My husband is right, Dr. Ellison,” Mrs. Steinar said as her husband took her hand, “what happened with Curtis’s medication will not happen again. I’ll be keeping the medication in a safer place so there will never be a mix-up like that again. Jessie will get the medication he needs and I will bring him back here for tests as often as you want. Just let us take him home.”

  Barney leaned back in his chair. There’d been no mix-up. For some reason, and he wasn’t about to ask what that reason was at the moment, Mrs. Steinar had purposely stopped giving her son his antipsychotic drug, which had undoubtedly contributed to his attempted suicide. He had no idea why she’d do something like that, but he doubted she’d try it again, especially with Mr. Steinar watching her.