He turned around to take in the little house with white-picket fence, like in the movies. The house for the happy American family. Not the tiny apartment he had bought with Keith. He wanted to scream.
"Ciaran!" A blonde about his age appeared on the door, the two children trailing behind. "What are you doing, come back in!"
Harith turned his back to the house and ran.
He ran until he found a familiar street and the way home. He was out of breath when he rang his own bell, but relief was immediate when his own body answered the door.
"Thank God!" he whispered, trying to catch his breath. This other body obviously wasn't as fit as his own.
***
Ciaran was still wondering what to do with his new body and unexpected location when he heard the doorbell ring. Being closest to the door, he sighed and went to open it, glancing at the closed bedroom door and wondering if it was normal to have visits on Saturday mornings in this house.
He was relieved to see his own body standing outside, disheveled and breathless, and obviously too distressed to notice he had gone out barefoot and in pajama bottoms.
"You must be the kids' dad," his face said, still panting. "Oh, boy, how did this happen?"
"I have no idea," Ciaran admitted, staring at his own face, which was suddenly so alien. It was like looking into a mirror, but the reflection did everything wrong.
"Oh, God!" The other took in a deep breath, holding his side, and finally managed to control his heartbeat. "I'm Harith."
"Yeah, I saw the marriage license. I'm Ciaran."
"Kiran? How come you have a Hindi name?"
"Keer-awn. It's Gaelic for 'little dark one'," Ciaran corrected patiently.
"Oh. Funny, in Hindi it means 'a ray of light'. And it sounds almost the same!"
Funny indeed. It was weird looking at his own face behaving uncharacteristically. The other seemed even more nervous than Ciaran was feeling at that moment.
"So... um... will you let me in?"
"You tell me. Your husband or wife or whatever sounds pissed off."
"Agh." Harith cursed in a language that Ciaran presumed to be Hindi and pouted.
Keith's voice startled both of them. "Now you even invite them here? You have no shame! Get out, both of you!"
Ciaran saw Harith cringe while Keith pushed him out of the door and closed it behind them.
"Oh, God." Harith looked truly miserable in his body. "I guess I messed up. But why did you sleep on the couch?"
"Let's get out of here," Ciaran muttered, grabbing his own forearm. "You could have worn pants, you know?"
Harith seemed to realize he was in pajamas and blushed. "Sorry, I panicked," he grumbled.
"Yeah, right, who wouldn't – waking up in a strange house with a strange man," Ciaran snapped. "Glad you'd fought, or he might have wanted to fuck me!"
"So? You bestowed two kids on me that I never considered having – I guess we're even," Harith retorted.
Ciaran snorted. They took refuge in a nearby coffee shop.
"You didn't tell me why you were sleeping on the couch," Harith said, sipping his tea – he was a no-coffee-thanks guy, which was why Keith had been startled by the request in the kitchen.
"I see my wife as a sister these days, but she still loves me very much," Ciaran answered, depressed. "What about you, what were you supposed to think about last night? Why was your marriage license next to you?"
"Keith said I should decide what that piece of paper really meant to me." Harith averted his eyes with a frown.
"I thought you were... married." He didn't like the word. It didn't fit a same-sex couple. God didn't approve of them. The piece of paper was a civil union, surely. No priest would bless that marriage, not even a Hindu priest.
"Yeah, well, I cheated on him," Harith grumbled.
Ciaran scoffed, shaking his head. "Funny, I sort of cheated on my wife too."
"And you have kids!" Harith looked shocked.
"Yeah, so what? You don't know what it's like."
"Well, tell me."
***
Harith liked the Irish guy, who was actually a couple of years younger than him. Ciaran looked good in his body, and had a decent body himself, although he should work out a little to become even better. But Ciaran was married. To a woman. And had kids. And was a bank manager. They'd never be able to switch lives.
"Hey, how about we run away together?" he suggested, brightening at the thought. Keith's words and being sent to the couch still hurt him, and at the moment the marriage license was just a piece of paper and Keith an unforgiving asshole.
His own face glared back at him. "Harith. I'm Catholic. I'm not gay. And I will not give up my children just because this... thing happened to us."
"Oh. You're right, of course." Harith slumped his shoulders with a sigh. "So, what do we do?"
"I can't believe this is happening," Ciaran shook his head, unable to look at anything in particular. He looked uncomfortable in Harith's body. "I'm still dreaming. I want to wake up."
Harith gave him a compassionate look. "Tell you what," he said at last. "Let's just act as though it's really happening." He paused to think. "When I was first scouted for baseball, it felt like a dream. I couldn't believe it was really happening – to me! But I just... went out there and played the game."
"Same with your... marriage, I guess?"
"We had to wait for that, but it's a real marriage now."
"Who solemnized it? Not a priest, I assume."
"No, but it's still valid by law."
"You should call it civil union, not marriage."
"What's the difference? We promised to love each other forever – you tell me your formula for marriage and it will apply to me and Keith as much as it does to you and your wife!"
Ciaran scoffed. "So, we were both lucky enough to become permanent residents of this country and now what happens? We switch bodies. How do you think we can handle this? What do you know about banking?"
"Not much," Harith admitted. "Keith takes care of the financial part."
"So how do you propose we proceed?" Ciaran's voice was tinged with irony.
"I don't know." Harith shrugged. "You didn't like my proposal, so it's your turn to come up with something."
Ciaran glared at him. "Fine, let's agree we switched bodies and we can't switch our lives as well. So we try to live each other's life while we figure out what happened and why."
"But how?" Harith exploded, exasperated. "You can't do my job and I can't do yours, what do we do, pretend we're sick? Ask for a sick leave or a vacation or what? And how is this going to help us with our spouses?"
"I have no idea," Ciaran replied, looking out of the shop windows and pondering. "But I can't take a leave from work, so you'll have to go in my place. But as we can't afford to make mistakes there, I'll be by your side, officially as assistant but really to help you deal with everything. Can you find someone to do your work at the gym?"
Harith sighed. "I'll call Ajay and tell him to look after my customers. And they'll also have to do without me tonight at the club."
"What club?"
"The Desi Boys Magik Club. Do you know it?"
"Uh... I took someone there last night, but I didn't go in."
"Well, you should have tried it! It's a funny place, with plenty of wonderful people. I play a couple of numbers there, The Hijra and The Stripper. Keith will be happy if you don't go out tonight. I guess we both have some explaining to do – although I have no idea what to tell your wife."
"Well, since you can't stand women, it kind of helps, as I told her I don't love her anymore." Ciaran smiled, amused. "What do you want me to do with Keith, follow my heart, keep him at bay and let him file for divorce?"
Harith heard himself answer before he could think. "No! I love him!"
"Good for you, but he's not going to touch me while I'm in this body," Ciaran warned.
Harith snorted, frustrated. "Boy, this is going to be tough..."
&nbs
p; "Yeah, well, you better get back to my place and get dressed. Do you have a car?"
"No, and I don't drive," Harith answered.
It was Ciaran's turn to curse under his breath in an unknown language. "Okay, let's walk back. I'll take the car and pick you up tomorrow after church, so we can talk some more. Then on Monday I'll take you to work. Don't forget to call your friend to tell him you won't be performing tonight and need a week off from the gym as well."
"O-okay." Harith braced himself for a very long day.
They walked back to Ciaran's house and Ciaran took the car after Harith handed him the keys. Harith noticed how Ciaran looked longingly at the children.
"Who was that, Dad?" they asked him when his body was gone.
"Huh? A friend. Have you seen my cell phone? I need to make a call."
The eldest – Colin, if he remembered correctly – handed him a cell phone.
"Thanks. Excuse me." He turned his back on them and the blonde wife, who stared at him with her arms crossed on her bosom.
Harith stared at the phone. It wasn't his, so it didn't have the numbers he needed on it. So he called home and Keith answered – of course, who else, Ciaran was still on the way.
"Hello, I'm sorry to disturb you, I'm a friend of Harith and Ajay and my cellphone was stolen. I need to talk to Ajay, do you have his number?" He put on his best Hindi accent, and between that and having Ciaran's voice, was sure Keith would never recognize him.
A little grumpily, Keith gave him the number. Relieved, Harith made the second call. He had covered for Ajay often enough at the club that Ajay owed him a few shows. And he could go to the gym in his place as well. He didn't explain much, just said he wasn't feeling good and had problems with Keith, so he needed a week off. A week, tops. Ajay didn't argue and agreed to be his substitute – not as The Hijra, but for everything else. There would be no Hijra that Saturday night at the Desi Boys Magik Club. Oh, well.
Harith hung up with a sigh.
"What language was that, Dad?" Colin asked.
"Hindi," he answered absentmindedly.
"What's Hindi?" Hugh asked.
"The official language of the Republic of India."
"When did you learn Hindi?" That was the wife, who came forward defiantly.
"Cool, my dad speaks three languages beyond English!" Colin exclaimed.
"Three?" Harith was ready to panic again.
"Gaelic, French and now Hindi? You have a gift for languages." The wife sounded sarcastic, though.
"Well, don't test me on that, will you?" he replied defensively. "Let's stick to English."
But the boys enjoyed immensely the game "how do you say..." and he didn't mind answering in Hindi. As long as they didn't ask for a lesson in Gaelic or French, he was fine. And talking to them kept the wife away – albeit in the room, and keeping an eye on him.
***
Ciaran rang Keith's bell – having been kicked out, he hadn't taken the key – and Keith let him in. Very taken by the thought of impersonating an assistant to himself, Ciaran barely said "Hello" and rushed to the bedroom and the wardrobe to see what was available.
"What are you looking for?" Keith asked, staring at him from the bedroom door.
"I need a suit on Monday. Do I own a suit?" Ciaran answered wondering if the suits in the wardrobe belonged to the body he was actually in or were Keith's.
"Of course not! What would you need it for?"
Of course, Harith was a sportsman. Damn. He couldn't go to the bank in sweatpants.
"I really need one next week... Can I use one of yours?"
"You have wider shoulders and narrower hips, how on earth would mine fit you?" Keith sounded impatient. Ciaran was running out of ideas.
"What did I wear for the wedding?" he asked, although he'd probably rented a tuxedo. Well, Harith would have probably rented a tuxedo for the occasion. Could he rent a suit?
"A sari," was the sharp reply. "Red and gold, like in your dreams. What's with you, Harith?"
Right, Harith was the woman of the couple. Ciaran cursed under his breath. "I really need to be at least business casual," he said, desperate.
Keith came over to the wardrobe, picked a jacket, pants that were not jeans, and a white shirt and put them in his hand. "Here's business casual," he snapped irritably.
"Are they mine?" Ciaran wondered.
"Of course they're yours, we've two different sizes, in case you forgot. What are you up to, Harith?"
"I need to help a friend, and I need to look respectable." Ciaran observed the clothes – they'd have to do until he bought this body a new suit.
"So our marriage means nothing to you." Keith crossed his arms over his chest, staring at him.
Ciaran remembered Harith's outburst and realized Keith was pissed off – rightfully so.
"Yes, I mean... I do care about our m-marriage..." He stammered on the last word. Same-sex marriage was a sin. Why hadn't God punished them? Why was he judging two strangers again – only because he was in one of the two's body? He pursed his lower lip, glancing at Keith's frown, and decided to go with the truth – sort of. "I'm helping this friend, we both have marriages on the rocks and I need time to... figure this thing out. The meaning of the word, what a spouse is, what I'm feeling right now... all that stuff." He was feeling panicky, but he wouldn't let it out. He couldn't be Harith, whoever Harith was, in spite of being in his body.
The speech seemed to work. Keith took a deep breath as he slowly nodded. "So where are you going next week?"
"Working nine to five, I took it off from the gym. I hope you don't mind." Ciaran held Harith's clothes like a shield between himself and Keith.
"What about tonight?" Keith asked.
"What about it?" Then Ciaran realized there was the show he was supposed to do but hopefully Harith had called it off. "Oh, I asked Ajay to cover for me. I don't feel like going out tonight."
Keith sank his hands in his jeans pockets. "That's a first. You can put those clothes back, they'll be there for you on Monday morning, you know?"
"Right." Reluctantly, Ciaran put away the clothes and closed the wardrobe doors.
Now he had a problem. Spending the whole afternoon – and then night – alone with Keith. Damn.
***
Harith's very much alive Inner Child meant he enjoyed the company of children. And he was very happy to hear Colin was playing up in the local Little League. He spent the afternoon playing baseball with him, teaching him his tricks – which amazed both kids, who couldn't believe their dad had suddenly become proficient in baseball.
Unfortunately, at some point, the children were put to bed, and Harith had to face Charlene. And she didn't look happy. But Harith had no intention of sharing the bed with her, so he headed for the couch after kissing the boys good night.
"I thought you wanted to keep this family together," Charlene said, glaring at him from the door.
"I do. I love those kids," he answered.
"Yes, I know you don't love me anymore, but you could pretend at least a little, you know?" she replied, rubbing her arms. She looked on the verge of tears.
Harith pondered, trying to remember what Ciaran had said about his feelings for his wife, but he was too upset himself to think clearly. He wanted to go back home and curl up next to Keith. Pity he had the wrong body, and Keith would kick him out if he saw him.
"I'm sorry, I can't sleep with you," he said at last. Honestly, he couldn't. He considered going to the club as a customer, but the day had been so strange, he felt a wreck already. "Good night, Sweetie."
He lay down on the couch and closed his eyes. He heard her sigh, then walk away. He exhaled with relief. But he better ask Ciaran what he wanted him to do about her. Tomorrow. They were supposed to meet tomorrow. And maybe in a dream he'd receive an answer – why had he switched bodies with Ciaran? It felt so wrong...
***
After dinner Ciaran sat on the couch with Harith's laptop and checked his email, wondering if he should also
check the work e-addy. Don't be stupid, it's Saturday night, Monday will be good enough. Then he surfed the net, checking Dow Jones and Wall Street like he was accustomed to do. He was so engrossed, he hadn't realized Keith was watching him until the other spoke.
"Since when are you interested in finance?"
"Don't we have a bank account?" Ciaran answered, still staring at the screen.
"Of course we do."
"Which bank and branch?"
Small world – they were his customers, and then he remembered where he'd seen Keith. He'd found the pediatrician among his customers and had kept him on file for when Charlene brought the kids to town. Not that they had met often – he was sure Keith didn't remember him any more than he remembered all the customers he'd met in the past year.
"That friend of mine, he's the manager of our bank," he said absentmindedly.
"And where did you meet him?" Keith insisted. Obviously Harith wasn't the type who went out with suits. But Ciaran knew his body was handsome in other men's eyes.
"Tried to... well, doesn't matter. He's married and so am I, right?"
"Is he the quickie?"
"No, he doesn't go to the gym – doesn't have time. No, there was nothing between us. He's straight and wouldn't have let me anyway."
"Still, you tried to seduce him."
"No, I didn't. We bumped into each other and kind of stuck together when we realized we both had problems with our spouses."
That was so truthful Keith believed him. "So what's his problem?"
"He doesn't love his wife anymore. But he doesn't want a divorce."
"I don't want a divorce either," Keith grumbled. "I understand your weaknesses, and I only want you to make up your mind."
"I am working on it," Ciaran assured, switching off the laptop and looking Keith in the eyes. "I swear, Keith, I'm working on it. Give me time."
Keith sighed, but nodded.
Ciaran put away the laptop. It was tricky trying to be somebody else. He wondered if the boys were already in bed – checked the time, yes, they were, sigh.
"Mind if I sleep here one more night?" he asked.
Body Switches Page 11