Body Switches

by Barbara G. Tarn

  Charlene joined Ciaran and observed the babysitter with curiosity. "What a wild imagination," she whispered in Ciaran's ear. "Is that Alice?"

  "No, she's down with fever," he answered in a low voice. "That's Samantha."

  Charlene looked at him, puzzled. "So... what do we do?"

  "Well, they obviously know her... I don't know how she got here, but..."

  "It's her or nothing, right?" Charlene straightened her back, staring at the babysitter. "Shall we go?"

  Ciaran nodded. They kissed the children good-bye and let Samantha continue her tale. Ciaran was a little worried at the thought of the self-proclaimed witch, but when Charlene started humming in the car, he forgot about Samantha.

  Truth time. And he still didn't know how to handle the conversation. Charlene was eager to be alone with him – or she wouldn't have left the children with a complete stranger – although he had no idea what for. They weren't going out to have sex – that part had been missing from their household in the past months.

  Maybe Charlene had her own talk to do. Ciaran parked the car, not daring to look at her. They sat at their table while he avoided eye contact and pretended it was just a common dinner out – no, they didn't have to discuss anything, just a break from the kids... not! Ciaran closed the menu with a sigh.

  "I missed this," Charlene purred, holding his hand after the waitress took their order. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

  "I'm afraid it's not really a pleasure," he replied, averting his eyes. "I mean, I..." He exhaled. "Oh, God, this is so hard..."

  Her smile vanished. "What happened?"

  "I fell out of love." There, he'd said it. "I no longer see you as my lover, but as a sister. You're the mother of my children, and I want to keep the family together for their sake, but I think we should sleep in two separate beds – or rooms. I'll move to the studio downstairs if it's okay with you..."

  "What are you talking about? When did that happen?" she protested, furious and hurt – rightfully so. "Is it because I can't give you any more children?"

  "God no! Your health is important to me and the kids. I told you, I see you like a sister and wouldn't want anyone to risk her life to give me another bundle of joy. We have Colin and Hugh, and they're wonderful..."

  She narrowed her eyes. "Do you have a lover?" she asked bluntly.

  "No, I don't. Although there was someone who kept me company while I was here all alone. But it was platonic. I had asked you many times to come, that I needed you, didn't I?"

  "But... I mean, you didn't mention a rival!"

  "I did mention that I felt lonely and missed you and the boys," he replied sourly.

  She opened her mouth and closed it. He could see her brain thinking, remembering, realizing, wondering, torn between anger and sorrow.

  "I'm sorry, Charlene," he continued. "Like I said, I don't want to dissolve our marriage, but I can't sleep with you anymore. I'll be celibate for some time, and then we'll see."

  "But this is... insane!" she exploded. "I mean, who is she, what did you do with her?"

  "Nothing! I told you, it was platonic. We talked a lot, we had a lot in common. We never did anything."

  "Why, is she married too?" she asked, sarcastic.

  "No, but I am," he answered, looking her in the eyes. "And I'm a Catholic, in case you forgot. I believe marriage is forever. So I didn't do anything stupid, if that's what worries you. But my feelings for you have changed, and that's why I'm asking you to let me move out of our bedroom. Not out of the house, mind you, just our bedroom. For a few months. I need to regroup."

  Charlene scoffed. "Move out of my bed... to go into someone else's?"

  "No, I told you, I'm not seeing her anymore – she's moved to another branch."

  "So she's a colleague."

  "I didn't know anyone when I came here. It's obvious the first people I made friends with are the people I work with."

  "Does Jim know about her?"

  Ciaran sighed. "Yes."

  "Bastard! Bastards, both of you!" Now Charlene was on the verge of tears. "I hate you, Ciaran!"

  The waitress brought their order and they ate in silence, Charlene sniffling and glaring at Ciaran between bites. Ciaran didn't know what to do. He was being a bastard, but he couldn't keep living a lie. He couldn't pretend he still wanted her – and she had already noticed his lack of interest in sex since they'd reunited.

  "I'm sorry," he said at last. "I don't want a divorce. Only some time to think on my own."

  Charlene sniffled.

  ***

  Harith made sure he came back on time to prepare dinner, since the previous night he'd been late. He felt guilty for the quickie with Mike, although Keith didn't know about it. And as they ate, once more noticing Keith's love, his conscience forced the words out of his mouth.

  "I cheated on you."

  "What?" Keith stared at him, puzzled.

  "I mean, yesterday... I was late because..." Harith lowered his eyes, uncomfortable. Telling wasn't always the best solution. "I had a quickie," he muttered.

  He waited for an outburst, but heard only a sigh. He dared to look at Keith who was shaking his head and staring at his plate.

  "I knew there was something going on," Keith said. "You were restless, and I was thinking we should go somewhere together."

  "A vacation?" Harith brightened. "Where? When?"

  Keith looked up, arching his eyebrows. "Nowhere. Not after what you just said."

  Harith hunched his shoulders, feeling the weight of his guilt. "I'm sorry," he said. "I love you, I just couldn't resist the temptation..."

  "I hate your vain self," Keith grumbled. "I wish you would get rid of him. But it's part of you, so I'll have to bear with it. I prefer when you're the happy-go-lucky guy, but I can't change the way you are."

  "Will you forgive me if I swear it won't happen again?" Harith begged.

  "Has it happened before?" Keith asked.

  "Um... a couple of blow jobs..."

  "All since you retired from baseball?"

  "Uh... yes..."

  "That's what I thought. Too much free time on your hands." Keith resumed eating, but Harith had a lump in his stomach, so he pushed away his plate. Way to go, Harith. You ruined everything. For a quickie. He's right, you're a cunt.

  "You coming to the club tonight?" he dared to ask.

  "Seems I can't trust you, so yeah, I'll come and keep an eye on you."

  Sharp tone, no eye contact. He must be pissed off. I deserve it.

  "You need to eat," Keith added, pointing at his plate with the fork.

  With a sigh, Harith finished what was on his plate. Stupid conscience. But then, it had to come out sooner or later. We'll work it out, he promised himself. After all, he knew how to beg for forgiveness – as soon as they were in bed...

  "Maybe I should skip the club tonight. I could call Ajay and ask him to cover for me..."

  "No, you love those shows. And I love your striptease."

  "I can do a private striptease for you," Harith suggested, hopeful.

  "And not wear your sari?" Keith chided.

  Harith shrugged. "It's just for tonight."

  "Do your show and then we can talk some more," Keith said, determined.

  Harith considered objecting, then gave up. This would give Keith time to calm down, and make forgiveness easier.

  ***

  It was only nine when Charlene came back and ordered the children to bed. "Ciaran can give you a lift home, if you want," she told Samantha. "He's waiting outside. He'll pay you for these two hours as well."

  "Why, thank you," Samantha answered, bowing like a medieval maiden and waving good-bye to Colin and Hugh.

  She exited the house and joined Ciaran who was sitting in the car. She leaned over the driver's window. "I'm not going home, but to a club," she said.

  "I can take you there, if you wish," he answered.

  "Okay." She went around the car and settled in the passenger's seat. "Thanks."

 
; Ciaran gave her some cash. "We didn't really discuss the price, but I think this is standard wage for babysitters," he said, a little grumpily.

  "Keep your money and buy something for your kids," she replied, observing him.

  Startled, he looked at her, then put the money in his pocket. "You sure are weird," he muttered.

  You have no idea, honey, she thought. She wished there were men like this one back home – dark-haired, blue-eyed, and with those luscious lips. She might not be looking for a Prince Charming, but she'd had loved to spend some time with a man like this. And many others, for that matter.

  "So, where do I take you?" he asked.

  "Desi Boys Magik Club," she said, giving him the address.

  He brooded all the way, so she imagined the "date" with his wife hadn't been what he hoped it would be.

  "Would you like to come in? The show is already on, and it's fun. You could get your bad thoughts off your mind," she suggested as he parked in front of the club.

  "Thanks, but no. I doubt Charlene would appreciate it. She'd think I went to Angela's instead."

  "If you're so keen on spending time with other women, please do come to my place! I'll gladly skip the show tonight and keep you entertained in ways you could never imagine!"

  "I'm married!" he protested.

  "You just mentioned another woman," she replied.

  "It was an unconsummated relationship."

  "Mine wasn't a sex offer, you know," she said. "You wouldn't have cheated on your wife if you'd come with me. Unless sex is the only thing that interests you. But I think you badly need something else."

  "Like what?" he snapped.

  "Some carefree time off?" she suggested.

  He snorted and shook his head.

  "Okay." She nodded, thoughtful. "Well, if you need me, just wish for me, and I'll show up."

  "Right." He sounded incredulous again. Of course, he couldn't believe he had just given a lift to a real magic user – who didn't really need it, since she could instantly transport herself wherever she wanted. But she couldn't pass on the option of spending a few minutes with Ciaran.

  "Good night, Ciaran." She smiled and exited the car. Handsome Ciaran had resisted the offer. Uncommon, but that was why she liked him in the first place. That was why she had started following him, keeping an eye on him – and his family.

  When she entered the club, The Hijra was bowing to thundering applause. Good. I hate it when he cross-dresses. She'd rather watch the striptease. Harith was another one of those men she'd love to spend some time with – although she knew it was hopeless with him. He wouldn't look at a girl even if she fell in his lap.

  Her eyes scanned the club, and she saw Keith sitting at a table on the side of the stage. As there were free seats next to him, she asked permission to join him, and he nodded with a frown. He was probably upset by something, since he almost immediately left and headed backstage.

  Curious, Samantha closed her eyes and followed him with her mind. She saw him going to Harith's dressing room where The Hijra had taken off the makeup, the jewelry, the sari, and The Stripper was putting on his modified clothes.

  Harith smiled. "How about I skip this and we go home?" he asked, hopeful. "I don't want to get naked in front of everybody tonight."

  "So now you have problems showing off your body?" Keith replied sharply. "What about yesterday?"

  "I didn't get naked!" Harith protested.

  "You're already half-naked at the gym," Keith retorted. "Sweatpants down and you're ready."

  "I apologized, why are you still mad at me?" Harith sounded whiny now.

  "Just get done with the damn show. I'm tired, I had a bad week," Keith snapped. "We can talk tomorrow."

  Harith pouted and finished preparing.

  Keith went back to his chair, and Samantha observed him while Harith came back on stage. She also observed The Stripper, who for the first time didn't smile, didn't take center stage and was rather quick, albeit still following the music. And no full nakedness either, as if in self-censorship – he let the others be the kings for the night, playing the background dancer.

  Samantha pondered as she wished herself home. Ciaran and Harith obviously had problems with their spouses. She sat in the lotus position and consulted her cards – the unicorns seemed to say both young men needed a lesson of some kind.

  She closed her eyes and sent her mind to Ciaran. He was sleeping on the couch. For the first time since Charlene and the children had moved to town, he wasn't in the master bedroom. Not that he'd had any sex in there since Samantha had started watching him. She doubted he could be celibate for much longer, though, and he might need to be reminded of why he had married Charlene in the first place. Then he could either divorce her or fall back in love.

  Samantha's mind moved to Keith and Harith who had just arrived home.

  Keith gave Harith a pillow and a blanket. "Go to sleep on the couch tonight," he said bluntly.

  "What? But..."

  Keith took their framed marriage license off the wall. "And think about this while you're at it. Think about what it means to you. Then tomorrow we'll talk about it."

  Harith was too startled to reply, and didn't resist when Keith pushed him out of the room and closed the door in his face. Still incredulous, Harith dragged his feet to the couch, where he dropped everything before slumping down. He took the framed license and stared at it with a frown, then put it on the low table next to the couch, and settled for sleep.

  He picked the marriage license up again to look at it one more time, dropped it on the carpeted floor with a snort, then switched off the light and hid his face under the blanket. "Just file for divorce, asshole," he muttered.

  Samantha sighed. Definitely time for a lesson. Could end up with two divorces or two reunions. That would be up to them. Maybe one couple would split and the other wouldn't. The unicorns had no answers about that.

  Just weave the spell. Bring some magic back into their lives. See what happens.

  She took in a deep breath. "So. Be. It."

  A thunderstorm hit.

  3.

  Ciaran's internal clock didn't go off on Saturdays. He woke up on the couch, but was puzzled to see it was not his couch – or his living room for that matter. Stunned, he pulled himself up and looked around. What happened? Where was he? Even his body looked different.

  He rose and went looking for a bathroom. The apartment was small, and he found it inside a bedroom. A dark-haired man was sleeping in the double bed. Ciaran tiptoed past him and reached the bathroom.

  He gasped at the sight of his face in the mirror. Where did those green eyes and highlighted brown curls come from? Nor could he explain the muscular body – it wasn't his! But whose body and face was he wearing? And was that person in his own body now?

  His heart beating faster, he tiptoed back to the living room and slumped back onto the couch. What was going on? His eyes fell on a frame lying facedown on the carpeted floor. He picked it up and saw it was a "Certificate of Marriage" between Keith Randall and Harith Nagrath – both being male.

  Shocked, Ciaran gulped and dropped the frame, which crashed on the carpet. Ciaran winced, but luckily the glass didn't break. He put it back on the low table delicately, although it felt like burning his hand. A same-sex marriage certificate. So the man in the bedroom was... his spouse? Which of the two was he?

  The dark-haired man emerged from the bedroom, startling him. He must have heard the frame crash on the floor. "Have you made up your mind?" he asked grumpily, heading for the kitchen.

  "About what?" Ciaran asked, confused.

  The dark-haired man scoffed and didn't reply – he must be Harith. He looked Indian.

  Ciaran had no idea of what he was supposed to say, so he kept his mouth shut. He followed the other man into the kitchen. He badly needed a coffee. He had no idea of what was going on, how he woke up in someone else's body – and a homosexual, no less. But the core of the Church's teaching is brotherly love for every pers
on, so he tried hard not to be judgmental of whomever he'd become, or better, whomever he was impersonating with that body.

  He watched the other man pour himself some coffee and waited, but none was offered to him.

  "Can I have some?" he dared to ask.

  The other glanced at him, surprised, then handed him the mug, picking another from the shelf over the coffee machine.

  "Thank you." Ciaran took in the coffee smell with his eyes closed. He felt better already. Maybe he could figure out what was going on with some caffeine in him. He slowly sipped, staring at his feet.

  "Harith," the other man said. "Are you all right?"

  Harith? So he was the Indian guy? With those green eyes and fair skin? Wonders never ceased! "I'm fine," he assured, unable to look the other man in the eyes.

  "Have you thought about what we said yesterday?"

  "Yes. No. I'm sorry, I need time." Mostly to figure out what was going on. Maybe he should call his house and see if Harith was there.

  The other man sighed. "When you're ready to talk, you know where to find me." He grabbed his mug and went back to the bedroom.

  "When I know what this is all about, we can talk," Ciaran muttered. He glanced at the kitchen clock. Too early to call. It was Saturday, after all, and even the children might sleep longer...

  ***

  "Dad, why are you sleeping on the couch?"

  A little hand shook Harith's shoulder as the child's voice insisted, "Dad, are you awake?"

  The words sank in and he was awake. He opened his eyes, dumbfounded, and saw two children standing next to the couch, staring at him. The shorter one must have spoken, and the tallest had an ugly frown, as if he were mad at him. Who were they? And where was he? It wasn't his house, his couch, his... body?

  "Bathroom," he panted.

  The tallest child pointed, thinning his lips.

  "What's wrong with Dad?" Harith heard the other ask while he slammed the door closed behind him.

  Dad?! He went to the mirror as slowly as he could, terrified at what he would see. Blue eyes, dark hair, high cheekbones... not his face, though. Not his body. A father's body. Someone else's body! Where's my body? Where's Keith? What's going on?

  Harith panicked.

  He rushed out of the bathroom and looked around for a front door, a foyer, anything that would remove him from this nightmare. A father! Married! With a woman! He found the door and rushed outside, oblivious to his T-shirt and pajama bottoms.