Live Long and Prosper            by: Brandy Dewinter            © 2000, All rights reserved

 

Chapter 6 - "Wishful Thinking"

By the time Lainey came on deck in the morning - a few minutes late, actually - there wasn’t much doubt about my problem. The lumps behind my nipples might have been a bit softer, but the volume had increased dramatically. Whatever cancer I had was clearly out of control. I was trying to decide how to break the news to Lainey when I noticed she had cut her face on something.

"What happened to your face?" I asked, my voice cracking a little after the long night of silence.

"Nothing," she growled, looking embarrassed for some reason. It looked almost like she had cut herself shaving, but of course that couldn’t be what happened.

For some reason, I didn’t feel like asking again. It shouldn’t be any big secret, but she had growled at me in a hoarse, low tone that sounded so angry, and for no reason. Instead of saying anything, about my own problem or her cut or whatever, I just stayed quiet. After a few minutes, I gestured at her life vest and started to unhook the lifeline. She was ready soon enough, and I went below to see in the mirror what had happened overnight.

Taking my shirt off was less problem than I expected. I was afraid of scraping my tender nipples on the fabric, but the shirt seemed loose with plenty of room to stretch clear of the swelling. After I had it off and could look in our full-length mirror with a more normal angle than looking down inside my shirt, I decided calmly and rationally that there was good news and bad news. The lumps were there, all right, absolutely undeniable. That was the bad news. The good news was that they didn’t look all that big in the reflection within the mirror. I guess seeing them against my whole chest provided a better perspective or something.

I stripped out of my Speedo trunks, too, and . . . And it looked like more bad news. I’ve never been one to worship my own equipment, with too-cute pet names or anything, but I really thought it was smaller than it should be. Maybe the cancer in my chest was having other effects, or maybe it was the other way around, but, like I said, more bad news.

Pivoting a bit so that I could see my rear and legs in the mirror, I realized that if I didn’t have the problems where I still itched, on my chest and between my legs, I’d actually be looking pretty good. I didn’t seem to be wasting away or anything. My skin was taut and smooth, and surprisingly supple for an old man. My body was pretty flexible, too. Just to see if I could, I bent down to touch the floor, and found I could do it easily, which was something that had been impossible for me for years.

My hair had been in a braid for long enough, so I took it down and stepped into the shower. Rubbing soap over my body and hair felt really nice without all that body hair. My skin was wonderfully sensitive. It was going to be such a damn shame when the cancer took over completely. I was feeling so good! And yet, something was so wrong.

I did notice that I was getting a little hair back on my body, just stubble, but it was another sign of the basic unfairness of it all. That symptom looked like it was recovering, and if it hadn’t been for . . . well, in other ways I’d have felt like our trip was the most healthy thing anyone had ever done.

After my hair was towel-dry, I found the next problem. My underwear didn’t really fit. Whatever was eating away at me had taken my waist down enough the elastic wouldn’t hold them in place. I ended up putting the Speedo back on. It wasn’t nearly as tight as it had been, but it was stretchy enough to cling, and to hide one part of the bad news.

All my self-examination had taken long enough that I figured it was my job to do breakfast again, so I scrounged a bit of the hash from the day before, stretched it with a little powdered egg, and resolved that I was not going to keep anything from Lainey any longer. We’d have to address whatever was bothering her whenever she felt like talking about it. But we would make Taiohae later that morning, and she needed to know about my problem right away. Figuring I needed to make some sort of peace offering, I found a bit of cheese and an onion and sort of enhanced the hash a little more before dredging up another smile and gathering up the breakfast tray.

"Oops, damn, almost forgot," I murmured to myself. I hadn’t put a shirt on after my shower. I wasn’t going to just wave my swelling in her face. I’d have to figure out some way to introduce it carefully.

Lainey was still looking angry, her jawline firm and her brow sort of frowning, when I came on deck. I tried to keep smiling, but it was pretty hollow, and I knew she wasn’t really fooled. Neither of us said anything for a few minutes while we ate.

Then it was one of those things that happen when you’ve lived together for a long time, and we both tried to talk at the same time.

"Lainey, we need to . . . " "Oh, Adam, I’m so sorry . . . "

And then it was even sillier, as we both said simultaneously, "What?"

I guess I was more emotional about my growing cancer than I had thought, because both times I had spoken, my voice had cracked. Lainey was showing emotion, too, because she still sounded really hoarse. At least, I hoped it was emotion. I didn’t want her coming down with something too.

She must have been less surprised than I was, or something, because she recovered more quickly and said, "Adam, I know what’s wrong with you."

I nodded, and said, "I think I do, too."

She looked at me sympathetically and said, "It’s not the end of the world, you know."

"I know," I agreed. "At least, not for you, and that’s what’s really important."

"It’s not for you, either," she said. "You can cope with this."

"Of course," I agreed with a confidence I didn’t feel.

My voice was still cracking on every statement, though, so I know I didn’t sound too convincing. She slid along the cockpit cushion to cradle me in her arms. It felt so good to be held. I suppose that’s another sign of how much the idea of my own mortality was affecting me. I never knew it would be that way. I guess I just expected I’d die all at once, somehow, with no time for contemplation.

In a minute, I was weeping. Sobbing, really, with little hiccuppy breaths that would have been childish and embarrassing if I didn’t have more important things to worry about. Lainey used one hand to pull the hair back from my face, then leaned down and kissed my forehead.

"Oh, dear Adam, I am so sorry."

"Thank you, love, but it’s not your fault." I wondered if she were feeling guilty because she had asked to visit that island. Which wasn’t any of the problem of course. You don’t ‘catch’ cancer.

"But it is," she said. "You don’t know what I did."

"You did something to cause this?"

"Yes. I know you’re going to find this hard to believe, but this is really my fault."

"Lainey, it’s not contagious. Besides, you don’t have it."

"Yes I do, actually, though of course it’s different for me."

I leaned back and reached up to touch her breasts. They were fine, if anything a little firmer maybe. In any event, no lumps.

"But you’re fine. You don’t have any signs of cancer at all."

"Cancer?" she said, sitting up herself. "What are you talking about?"

"What are YOU talking about?" I asked instead of replying. Then I did answer anyway. "I have two lumps on my chest, behind my nipples, and they’re growing, and, um, some other things. I figured that has to mean I have some sort of cancer."

She laughed at me. It wasn’t any little giggle either, but a full belly laugh that made me mad, even as it relieved me because it meant she wasn’t angry at me for some unknown reason.

"What are you laughing about?" I demanded. My damn voice cracked in the middle, though, which sounded pretty ridiculous. The mouse that roared.

She wrapped me up in her arms again, still laughing, but I wasn’t having any of it. I shrugged free and moved to sit on the other side of the boat.

"Tell me what is going on," I demanded again, forcing my voice to stay low.

She still had a big smile on her face, but she did settle down and look at me more seriously. "Adam, you don’t have cancer. You’ve got tits!"

"What?!"

"Take your shirt off," she ordered.

For some reason, I was embarrassed. I mean, I could see not wanting to show my lumps in public, like some sort of beggar’s display, but there were only the two of us within sight. Still, I looked around to make sure we were alone, then silently stood and pulled my shirt off. There, in the full light of day, were the two swollen areas of my chest, looking worse all the time. The nipples had gotten a lot darker, too, and the areas around them. I guess I had been putting that down to the dim light, but there in the daylight it was as undeniable as the swelling.

Lainey stood and moved toward me, taking my chest in her hands and caressing the swellings lightly.

"Ohhh," I moaned, unable to hold it back, then, "Ow!"

"Sorry, but I needed to check."

"I told you I had a lump behind each one."

"Yes, but they’re not cancer."

"How do you know?"

"Because once upon a time I had lumps just like that. About 40 years ago. You are showing all the typical signs of a girl in puberty, growing breasts."

"Don’t be ridiculous."

"Believe me, Adam, I didn’t want to believe it either."

I remembered that she had said it was her fault. "What do you think is causing it?"

Now it was her turn to be embarrassed. She blushed, then sat down on her side of the Breeze again. This time, she patted the cushion and motioned me to join her.

When I was once again sitting close to her, she said, "Dear, you’re going to have to put aside your engineer hat for a moment, and listen to what I have to tell you. This all started on Tirce’s island."

I interrupted her. "I know, but that was just when we noticed."

"Yes, but I’m not sure you understand. Do you remember what Tirce said just before we sailed?"

"You mean about the wishes? Sure."

"Well, I think they’re coming true."

"Don’t be silly."

"Now, Adam, I told you that you need to be open-minded about this."

"Look, even if I believed in wishes and magic and all that, I certainly didn’t wish to be turned into a girl!" Then I gasped and said, "unless, you . . . "

Now she really looked embarrassed, ducking her head and avoiding my eyes.

"Lainey, you didn’t!"

"Well, at least you seem to be considering the possibility," she said with a rueful little smile. Then she lifted her head and looked directly into my eyes, "Actually, I did and I didn’t. It’s not what I wrote on my paper, but . . ."

"But what? And what DID you write?"

"What I wrote was, ‘I wish my husband would have a long, healthy, and happy life.’"

"That’s what I wrote!" I interrupted her again. "Except I was wishing it for you, as my wife."

She gave me a hug and said, "Somehow, I’m not surprised. Anyway, while you were setting the sails, doing it your same old way, I was musing to myself that I thought you’d be happier if you were a little more spontaneous, a little less rigid in your habits. I swear I don’t know why I thought this, but in my mind was the idea that you needed to be more like a high school cheerleader."

My mouth hung open so far she must have been able to see my breakfast. I was speechless, just staring at her.

Then I realized I was being silly. That whole line of reasoning was based on the idea that wishes worked, and magic, and that Tirce was a real witch, and everything. Stupid.

I shook my head and sat back. "This is all wrong. There is no magic, and no wishes, and nothing you were thinking about makes a bit of difference in what happens in real life. If you say my lumps are developing breasts, well, I guess I have to believe it’s possible. But there has to be some rational, medical reason for it. Maybe something we picked up on that island is screwing up my hormones or something, but it’s not magic!"

"Okay, like what?" she asked calmly.

"*I* don’t know! But it’s not magic."

Lainey leaned back in her seat for a moment, then said, "I would be inclined to agree with you, except for a few other things. I’ll grant that maybe the changes in your waist might be due to some sort of hormonal thing, though in fact that doesn’t really happen after you’ve grown. But what is making you get younger?"

"Younger? I’m not getting younger. I’ve been feeling pretty good lately, aside from these lumps, but that’s not because I’m getting younger. It’s just that we’re living a healthy lifestyle, and I’m getting good exercise and so on."

She reached out to touch my flowing hair. "Then how do you explain your hair turning dark again?"

"What?"

"You mean you didn’t notice?"

I guess I had, because as soon as she said something, I really knew what she was talking about. I had seen the dark roots in my hair when I looked in the mirror, but I think I must have put it down to trapped oil from braiding it or some trick of the lights in the cabin. But in my mind’s eye, I replayed my reflection in the mirror and I knew that there was at least an inch of dark hair next to my head, though most of it was still gray.

Lainey saw the introspective look in my eyes and knew I was admitting to myself what she had pointed out. Then the next implication hit me between the eyes and I said, "But your hair is getting darker, too. Blonde, I mean."

"Yes, it is," she nodded.

"So you’re getting younger, too?"

"Yes, but I’m afraid that’s not all of it."

"Are your breasts growing, too? They don’t feel like it."

She laughed again, or at least chuckled, but it had a strange note, as though the humor was in some way more intellectual than emotional. "Hardly."

I expected her to continue, but she just regarded me solemnly for a long moment, as though I were supposed to be able to guess the rest or something. Well, I couldn’t, or didn’t. I was getting tired of her little test, and was about to say something I’d probably regret later when she reached up to point at the little cut on her cheek.

I still didn’t get it, which I suppose she could tell by the confusion that must have shown on my face. Before I could say anything, she said quietly, "Adam, I had to shave this morning."

"What?"

She knew I had heard her, so instead of answering that question, she went on. "Adam, dear, the changes you’re seeing are the opposite of what I’m seeing. Your waist is shrinking, and hips are getting rounder, while mine are going the other way. And I had whiskers this morning."

"So? That just means you got some of whatever I got. Maybe it means I don’t really have cancer, but it’s just hormonal problems."

She was ready to make a further argument, but I stood up and looked past the bow, cutting her off. "Look, there’s Taiohae. Let’s get ready to dock and we’ll go see a doctor. I’m sure there’s a logical, scientific explanation for all this. And a fix."

"Very well, dear, but as, um, developed as you are becoming, and as sensitive as I’m sure you must be, I think you need to wear more than a polo shirt today."

"What do you mean?" I asked, but even as I said it, I knew.

And she knew that I knew, so she just pointed at the helm, and went below. For the first time in more than a year at sea, I didn’t immediately don a life vest and lifeline. The sea was calm, and the Breeze was steady, as was the breeze. And most of all, I didn’t want to squeeze into my vest right then.

Maybe I knew she was right. If not in the real cause, at least in the basic effect. As much as it made me feel stupid, I knew that I had reached the point where I ‘jiggled’, and I didn’t want to. In a couple of minutes, Lainey came back on deck with a gray sports bra. Even though I don’t suppose my expression showed it at the time, I appreciated that she just handed it to me without a word, and let me figure it out for myself.

Once I had it on, I realized it was actually more comfortable than just a shirt, since the constant jiggling was not only a distraction, it had caused the shirt to rub my tender spots.

I gave Lainey a quick, but honest smile as I reached for my shirt.

"Thanks."

She nodded, then looked at the set of the sails. "Can we reach the port on this heading?"

"We should be able to," I said. "I checked the GPS before I came out and our course made good is just slightly to windward of the harbor buoy.

Sailing details provided a nicely neutral topic of conversation, and we discussed the harbor notes from the reference books. I went below to call the harbor master and arrange for a berth, looking once again at my reflection in the mirror. Now that Lainey had pointed it out to me, it was clear that I was looking sort of effeminate. I pulled my hair back into my standard low ponytail, and stood a little straighter, but all that did was make my neck look longer, somehow, or maybe it was that my shoulders looked narrower. I don’t know what it was, but the result was another of those good news, bad news things. The good news was that I was becoming convinced that I didn’t have cancer, at least, not based on the lumps on my chest. But the bad news was that it was clear that Lainey was all too likely to be right that I was on a path to become a woman. I tried to tell myself that was a better deal, but I’m not sure I was convinced.

"All set?" Lainey asked as I came back on deck.

That led to the next round of ship’s business talk, and by the time we were done, we were ready to become a powerboat again. We found our berth in the marina easily enough, tied up, and were putting the cover on the furled mainsail, working together facing away from the dock, when I heard the warble of a wolf whistle, with an echo.

Turning around, we saw two scruffy looking men standing by our boat. One was wearing a torn blue t-shirt, and a cap that might once have been red. The other had a French flag on his t-shirt, which should long ago have been burned or buried.

When he saw that he had our attention, Torn Shirt, speaking airly as though he were offering polite conversation asked, "Where are you ladies from?"

I was speechless. And all of the sudden I was really, really embarrassed that I was still only wearing my Speedo and a polo shirt. Lainey, on the other hand, was magnificent.

She put an expression on her face that was as haughty as any Frenchman ever dreamed of being able to show, and snapped, "And what business is that of yours?"

"Perhaps nothing," Torn Shirt replied. "But based on how long you have been at sea, we might have something to offer you."

"Not that long," Lainey said, turning back.

"Long enough for two women as plain as you," Flag Shirt said, speaking for the first time.

"Seriously," Torn Shirt said, interrupting any retort Lainey might have considered. "Where have you been? We seldom get American yachts in our little port. If you’re headed back to America, perhaps we might arrange for you to carry a package for us. We could pay very well."

"Not interested," Lainey replied, still speaking for us.

"Well, at least tell us what the weather has been like, if you came from the west? Or did you come from your Hawaii?"

Lainey looked at me and sighed, shrugging her shoulders. This guy seemed like he would not leave until we told him at least a little of where we had been, and that was actually a normal sort of question for a yacht pulling into port.

She refused to look at him, though. We just went back to our boat chores as she spoke over her shoulder, "We’ve been headed this way from Tahiti for the last couple of weeks."

Even turned away, I got a sense of tension from the two men. Perhaps it was because Flag Shirt spoke next, and abruptly. "Did you stop anywhere along the way?"

"A couple of times."

"Where?"

"One little uninhabited cove day before yesterday, and a bit bigger island about 300 miles from here."

Now the two men conferred urgently and quietly behind us, speaking French with a sort of blurry accent that I couldn’t keep up with at all. Then Flag Shirt spoke again, "Was that an island like half a volcano, where the bay is on the windward side, but still sheltered?"

"Yes, more or less," Lainey said, turning around to look at our interrogators again.

But all she saw of them were their rapidly disappearing backs as they almost ran from our dock.

 

(continued in Part 7)

 

 

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Live Long and Prosper © 2000 by Brandy Dewinter. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.