It's A Deal

by Staci Marie

   

I was terribly tired when I stumbled in from the garage, not really alert, not too terribly hungry, and not at all interested in anything but a good night's sleep. But there at the kitchen table sat Amy, our anniversary dinner getting colder by the minute and the candles burned to within inches of the tablecloth. I focused on her eyes. She'd been crying.

"You said you'd be home by eight. It's nine thirty."

"I'm sorry, Honey. Traffic was hell."

"You could have called back."

"I tried. Cell phone was dead and my charger is in your car."

"It worked at seven thirty when you said 'fifteen minutes at the most'"

"You're right. I should have figured out a way to let you know I'd be late."

I plopped down beside her, put my arm around her shoulders and squeezed. She was limp.

"The truck driver died."

She turned her head just slightly and stared into my eyes.

"Dinner looks good."

"Don't even. I mean. How dare you come in an hour and a half late, with me crying and wondering if you died or something, and then you sit down and wanna eat dinner like there's nothing . . . . What truck driver?"

"Poor guy. His hay truck was on fire. They think he had a heart attack. Came across the freeway at this end of the Ford Street Bridge and trapped us up there with nothing to do but hope the gas tanks didn't explode."

"Did he . . . die?"

I paused a moment, wondering if she'd heard anything I'd said, then nodded.

Amy let out a little squeal while simultaneously putting her hand up to her mouth.

"They got him out first. He didn't burn." Dying in a fire, I knew, had always been her greatest fear.

"I'm sorry, Jack. It's just that I was so worried about you."

I squeezed her again, and this time she squeezed back.

"Are you hungry?"

I lied.

"Let me up and I'll throw everything in the microwave."

"No. It's fine like it is. Besides, we'd better eat before the candles burn down to the tablecloth."

Amy sighed, said, "OK," and I realized she was just as tired as I. So we ate. The steak was quite good. The rice pilaf was good. The sautéed mushrooms were wonderful. But everything else was rubbery.

Once finished Amy sat listless beside me, so I stood and cleared the table.

"Wanna go sit in the living room?"

She slowly raised her eyes till they met mine. She stared in silence as I watched a playful little bit of a grin sneak across her face.

"What?" I grinned back, thinking she had the bedroom on her mind.

"You're cute."

"Yeah? So?"

"So sit back down right there. Across from me."

I did as told.

"Now let me have your hand."

"Which one?"

She grinned a little more. "Left." She took my hand in hers and just stared at it for a minute or two, turning it over a few time in the process. Then she reached slowly into the pocket of the apron that hung on the back of her chair.

"Amy?" My voice raised slightly to something of a squeak as I approached the "y" at the end of her name. But she didn't respond. She just kept staring at my hand. More specifically at my fingernails. Then, as her hand emerged from the apron pocket my fears were realized. Between her thumb and index finger was a bottle of nail polish.

"Amy? What are you doing?"

But she did not answer, at least not with words. Her left hand held the bottle while her right unscrewed the applicator brush. I cringed, but I had learned in three years of marriage that it was best to leave Amy alone when she was tired and had some crazy idea about what she wanted to do to me. So we sat across the table from one another, not muttering a word, while she painted my fingernails a shiny plum/pink.

She blew on them a minute or two. Then, convinced they were dry, Amy gave me a tug and we went upstairs. Three steps from the top she hesitated, yawned, and announced, "I'll get that off in the morning. Right now I just want to get some sleep."

She didn't even change, just flopped down on the mattress and was instantly out of it. I, on the other hand, lay awake in something of a dreamworld stupor, rubbing my smooth, shiny nails with my fingertips and enjoying everything about them. Eventually, however, I joined Amy in slumberland, not aware of anything until I woke up Saturday morning with my feet sticking out at the end of the bed.

"Hold still, Sleepy Head." Oh crap, she was at it again. I raised my head just slightly to see nine plum/pink toe nails as the brush came down on the last little piggy.

"What, exactly, are you doing? I thought you were going to take it off my fingernails today."

"There's time for that," she giggled, obviously in a better frame of mind than the night before. "But in the mean time I'm going to make you just as pretty as me."

"Pretty as…? What are you talking about?"

"We're going to Rosie's for lunch?"

"The tea room? That's a girls only place."

"Yep! That's why I want you to be pretty. We're gonna turn you into the prettiest little woman you've ever seen."

"Amy, what are you talking about?"

"You, silly. I want you to go with me to Rosie's."

"But I can't pass as a girl. Look at me."

"Oh yes you can. Please let me try. I just want to dress you like a girl and then if you don't look like a sexy little movie star you don't have to go."

How pathetic. I never could say "No!" to Amy, so off we went to the shower where I thought we'd have some fun, but she whipped out the shaving cream and a razor. In moments my legs were as silky smooth as hers. Then she shaved my arms, my chest, my back, and finally my underarms.

"Oh my gosh!" The reflection in the full-length mirror wasn't even me.

"That's nothing," she giggled before kissing me square on the lips. "We've got a whole lot more to do by 11:30."

Before long my face was being powdered, my eyelids were being painted "Lilac," my lashes were being stretched and thickened, my lips were being painted to match my nails, and I, for some reason, was enjoying everything about myself. Finally Amy pulled from her closet the wig she'd worn on a couple of dates when she didn't feel like washing and curling her own hair.

She held it to my forehead, then stretched it back and over my head until it was tight against my scalp. Wavy blonde strands dangled all around my face, reaching down to the middle of my back.

"Look at yourself, Jackie."

"Excuse me," I protested, not particularly liking how she'd changed my name. But then I caught my reflection in the mirror. My expression changed instantly, and Amy noticed.

"Like what you see?"

I mistakenly said that I did. That's when she reached for the bra, the panties, and the dress, all hers, and I realized for the first time in my life that I was not any bigger than my bride. Her size 8 dress fit almost perfectly. But I figured two or three socks on each side and our bodies would pass as twins.

"Ok, cutie. Time to stand up and check yourself out in the full-length mirror now that you've been girlified."

I turned to face myself and realized that Rosie's was going to happen no matter how much I protested. But I couldn't take my eyes off my reflected image. I was hot. And I enjoyed being hot.

"What did you call me, Amy?"

"Jackie."

"Kinda fits, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, kinda does. Do you like what you see?"

Still staring, and turning to catch all angles, I nodded.

"So are you thinking it would be alright to go out on the town dressed like this?"

"Not even! I mean, if somebody recognized me I'd be a goner."

"Oh, Jack, nobody's going to recognize you. Not even your mother would know you dressed like this."

"Serious?"

"Look in the mirror, Jack. You're hot."

"No way!"

She giggled, pulled me close, and kissed me square on the lips. Fortunately we were wearing the same lipstick. Then she took my hand and gave me a tug. "Come on, Miss Jackie. Let's take a stroll through Rancho Mall. Just walk. My guess is we'll be whistled at or asked out at least three times before we get from one end of the mall to the other. If that doesn't happen I buy dinner for two at Tony's…after you've changed back to Jack. But if I'm right you have to dig into your cute little purse to pay the tab at Rosie's, then we get five minutes together at the mirror in the lady's room."

I followed her to the car and let her drive, since I was not exactly used to pushing accelerator and brake pedals with three inch heels.

As I entered the car I caught a quick glimpse of myself in the side-view mirror, and Amy was right. I was hot. And realizing that, I felt a huge smile stretch across my face.

The drive took about fifteen minutes, everyone of which was spent in language practice. And though I didn't think it possible, by the time I opened the car door and turned to exit, my voice was as feminine as Amy's. I'm not sure how she did it, but she had me talking, giggling, laughing, teasing, and singing with something approaching soprano. And when I stood up and pushed the car door shut, I realized for the first time that I would be paying for lunch…at Rosie's…from my cute little purse. A bearded guy in a rusty old Ford pick-up truck whistled while looking right at me. I figured he was looking past me and whistling at Amy, but when I turned I realized she had not even gotten out of the car yet. I was surprised, to say the least, and a little bit flattered, all at the same time. And as I turned my head back I realized I had an uncontrollable smile stretched across my face. He was interested in me, and I liked the attention, even though it was from another guy.

Before we reached the door to the mall, I was targeted by two other men. The first whistled from a distance, making me vaguely aware that Amy might be right. Maybe I was able to pull it off. Maybe I could pass as a woman. Then it happened. As we approached the door to the mall, it was pushed open by a young, brown haired man in a suit. He held the door for the two of us, and being a gentleman I let Amy enter the mall ahead of me. As she passed through the door, his eyes turned and met mine. But they were different from anything I'd ever seen in a man. Still I recognized the look. He was flirting. He thought I was pretty and he was flirting with me.

I know I blushed, but more important is that I smiled back at him, and my eyes sparkled in much the same way. He was flirting with me . . . and I liked it . . . and, of all the strange feelings a man could have, I thought he was kinda cute. Holy crap, what was I thinking? How could I think a guy was cute? But that's what my mind was saying. And, of course, Amy noticed.

"You going to wear those red cheeks all day?" she giggled.

"What red cheeks?" I pretended ignorance. After all, how could I admit to my wife, to the woman I love, that I thought some flirtatious guy at a mall door was cute?

But Amy just giggled all the more. "You know something, Jackie?"

"What?"

"I think you're going to like being a woman a whole lot more that you can possibly imagine right now. There's so many quirks. So many twists and turns. Straight ahead at ninety miles an hour just doesn't happen."

I stared blankly as she rambled on, then noticed she was distracted by something over my shoulder.

"Look out, Juliet," she almost whispered. "Romeo is coming at full speed ahead. Say you'll call him and get his number. And touch his arm with your long nails, kinda dragging them down toward his hand."

As she stopped speaking I turned and found myself smiling up into his sparkly, questioning eyes.

"I'm George," he said, staring straight into my eyes, "and I have to have dinner with you tomorrow night."

I couldn't help myself and nodded. His smile grew a little bigger. Then my head cleared and I remembered what Amy said.

"Give me your number." My fingernails had already started down his left arm. I paused just below the elbow and did a sort of twisty little thing with all four of them, then continued toward the hand. "I'll call you later tonight, George."

He quickly pulled out a business card and wrote his cell number on the back.

"About 10?"

He said ten would be good, then turned and went away.

We watched till he was out the door again, then Amy burst into laughter. "You are good, Jackie. Oh my gosh, I can't believe how good you did that."

"Is that how I acted when I met you?"

"Exactly. You were so cute, such a puppy."

"I wasn't a puppy."

"Oh, Jack, you followed me everywhere, you carried everything for me. I can remember getting home from work one evening and you were sitting on the front steps with twin red roses in a bud vase and this sad little puppy dog look all over your face until I said how much I loved the flowers. Then you lit up like the noon-day sun. You were a puppy."

"Yeah, well that's only because I love you."

"So . . . where do we stand now? I mean, now that George has come into your life?"

"Amy!!!"

"Admit it. Jackie thought George was pretty cute. Jackie was flattered at the attention she was getting. But mostly, Jackie was so excited about the attention that she forgot about Rosie's."

"Oh shit," I muttered, under my breath.

"I heard that . . . and it's not going to get you out of one trip to a tea party."

"I guess." I turned slightly and gave Amy my very best Jack glance, which must have been hysterical with all this girl stuff on. Then I teasingly asked, "D'you think there will be any cute guys there?"

Amy shoved me in the shoulder, then grabbed my arm and dragged me down the mall. It was fun, to say the least, tagging along as her girlfriend. She treated me as one of her friends rather that as a husband, much more open with comments and jokes. It was a sort of freedom I'd never experienced, and in many ways I did not want it to go away.

"Jackie, I think it's time for pierced ears."

I stopped, instantly frozen to the floor tiles.

"Amy? What did you say?"

Then there was silence…deafening silence. Finally she moved in close to me, very close to me, and whispered. "I don't exactly know what's been happening today, Jack, but I have a feeling I will be seeing a whole lot more of Jackie than I ever imagined, and if that's the case I want her to be wearing pretty earrings."

Again we were buried in silence. Staring into each other's eyes, but with a new tone of seriousness. I too realized that Jackie would be living in our home just as much as Jack. I liked being Jackie. No no. I loved being Jackie. I loved the way the skirt moved, and the way the long hair flowed down over my shoulders. I loved the feeling in my legs when walking in heels. I loved the giggly girl, the innocent, giggly girl my wife had become while I was dressed as Jackie. But while I was drifting into the dream-like state of mind, Amy was moving in closer and closer till finally the touch of her lips on mine brought me back to reality (so to speak), and we kissed. Oh did we kiss. With arms around each other and lips locked for several minutes, I'm sure we brought plenty of attention to ourselves as the "two lesbians in the mall."

Instantly Amy took my hand and dragged me off to a restroom.

"Oh…my…gosh…Jack,…that's the…."

"Jackie!"

"…that's…what?"

"I'm Jackie."

"Yeah, well, Jack or Jackie, what got into me? It's like I became a lesbian or something."

"I liked it."

"Yeah, but…."

"Amy! What is going on in your mind? Don't worry about it. We kissed." I paused and looked around at my pink surroundings. "Now we're in a restroom. A pink restroom. A lady's room. And I don't belong in a lady's room."

She caught my glare, turned a smile in my direction, then started to giggle.

"What's so funny?"

"Look in the mirror," she said. "You are the prettiest, sweetest looking girl in the mall. If anybody belongs in here it's you…until your beard starts showing."

I paused a moment, then giggled with her. "I guess we'd better get to Rosie's then, and get that over with so I can get home and shave."

"Yeah, we'll get your ears pierced another day."

I said nothing. But the excitement I felt over another day as a girl was intoxicating. But still I said nothing. Amy, however, was her usual perceptive self.

"Your silence tells me you're enjoying this charade and don't want it to end."

I looked up into my wife's beautiful eyes and felt tears forming in my own.

"Don't cry, Jackie, or we'll have to start over on your make-up."

I put my arms around her once again, squeezed slightly, then whispered, "I love you, Amy."

"I love you too, Jack. Now let's go to Rosie's and see what kind of worm can I opened."

She took me by the hand and led me out of the bathroom, out of the mall, and across the parking lot to Rosie's where we were seated at a table near a tiny wooden stage.

"It's children's day," Amy explained. "Little boys and girls will be modeling toddler clothes so that we tea drinking ladies can see how to dress our preschoolers in September."

As I was making up my mind how to show excitement and enthusiasm at such a silly, girly activity, I heard the other two chairs at our table being dragged across the floor.

"Good morning, Amy. You look delightful today." The voice was behind me, and very recognizable. Then the second voice chimed in.

"Yes, absolutely delightful."

"Oh, hell," I muttered, under my breath. Then I turned around and faced the smiling countenances of Mom and my older sister. I'd been framed. Submarined. And there wasn't a thing I could do about it. So I made up my mind to simply make the most of an awkward situation and pretend to fit in.

"Mother. Gina. Why you two are just as ravishing as always."

"Well thank you, Jackie," Mom said. "You look more…beautiful… than I ever remember you."

Gina pulled her hand up to her mouth and chuckled, but said nothing.

Then, driven on by Gina's obvious obnoxious behavior, I pulled in my most feminine voice and said, "My only purpose in life is to please." I glanced at Amy who winked in my direction, I suppose for giving a "good response" to my mother.

Oh my gosh. I was pissed at all three of them. They set me up, but why? Then it dawned on me. It was my mother. She is the one who wants me and Amy to have children, and she thought seeing all these cute little preschoolers parading by our table and hearing all the ladies saying "Awww" would help Amy get pregnant. That's bull shit. My mind raced through everything that had transpired that day, and suddenly this really calm feeling came over me. I was enjoying this charade. I liked being a girl. In fact, I loved being a girl. I loved the clothes, I loved the make-up, I loved the diminutive nature I had taken on. Everything female made me comfortable. I liked the long hair flowing down all around my face. I loved the bangs dangling down to my eyelids. The dainty watch and the dainty rings, along with the painted fingernails, made me so much more comfortable with myself. Then my concentration was broken.

"You know something, Jackie," my mother interrupted, "I always thought you'd make a pretty girl."

"Well get used to it," I shot back at her, "cause I really like being a girl and I don't think I'll be going back very soon."

She stared blankly into my painted face.

"I'm an accountant, Mom, and I work all alone in my office every day. My clients don't really care if they see Jack or Jackie, just so their taxes get done. Heck, I could switch back and forth on a day-to-day or week-to-week basis and nobody would figure it out in a million years."

"Oh, Jack, stop it."

"I'm serious, Mom." And with that comment I opened my purse, took out a tube of plum/pink lipstick and freshened my appearance.

Tension filled our little corner of Rosie's Tea Room, but the show was wonderful, and I did indeed come away thinking that it might be nice to have a baby, though I was not ready to admit that to Mom. Instead I was thinking of earrings, acrylic nails, and, of all things, breast implants. And then it dawned on me. I did not want to be a father. I wanted to be a mother…but not like my mother.

At the conclusion of the show Amy dragged me into the lady's room once again. Mom and Gina followed, with Gina giggling every time she looked in my direction. Finally Amy, Mom and I were talking, and Gina was kind of on the outskirts. Then suddenly her hands came up under my arms and she squeezed my sock filled breasts. She burst out laughing, I was shocked, but Mom lit into her like I was a real woman. Holy crap! I didn't know Mom had it in her.

When everything calmed down a little, Gina shot out of the restroom, shouting over her shoulder, "She's probably got three socks in each cup," to which Mom started to laugh.

"What's so funny."

"Well first off, she has two socks on each side, and I know 'cause I helped her stuff them in there, and second, she referred to you as 'Her'."

I just stared for a moment until I felt the corners of my mouth slowly turning up.

"By referring to you as 'Her' she was acknowledging that you are a woman."

"Cool!"

Then Mom just stared at me again. "What's so cool about it?"

"I like this, Mom. I've had more fun today as a woman than I've had the last ten years as a man."

"So what are you telling me, Jack? Are you serious about that accounting office thing, with Jackie taking over every other day or so?"

"I think so. I'm serious that this has been a lot of fun and I really want to do it again…like tomorrow. But I'd like to keep you as my mother."

Too much. I must have said too much. Mom stared for a moment, then turned and hurried out the door.

I turned to Amy and smiled. She took my hand in hers, then dragged me out the door and to our car.

"Sorry, Amy. Seems like every time I get around family there's a fight."

"Don't worry, Daddy. I've gotten used to the whole bunch…even you."

I stopped, turned her in her seat just slightly, then stared into her eyes.

"Daddy?"

"Unless you think our little Jack Junior should have two mothers."

"I'll give it some thought."

"Well maybe you should think while you're driving, Jackie. We need to get you home for a shave."

I leaned over and kissed her square on the lips. Then I turned forward and drove. About a block down the road, in my most feminine voice, I said, "I think better when I'm wearing dangling earrings. So I'll let you know after I get them pierced tomorrow."

Amy chuckled slight, then leaned over and whispered, "It's a deal."

Good thing Amy agreed. Some things are way too good to give up, and Jackie was not about to pack up and leave any time soon.

  

  

  

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