New Girl Fantasy

by Ann O'Nonymous

  

The aging silver '94 Sable pulled up to the curb and parked. A man behind the wheel shut off the ignition, opened the door and, after checking traffic, got out pulling crutches behind him. After locking up, he painfully made his way to the pavement and headed towards a very special house. There was a girl inside, one he truly loved more than anything. His home? No, a fire took that away long ago, along with a lot of bad memories.

They had met in a local park: he was a thirty-something has-been on crutches, and she was a seven-year-old strapped to a gurney, dragging a ventilator along for company. He said something silly – she laughed. Oh, that laugh was priceless! It was a cross between a snicker, a giggle, and a smirk. He said she "snigglerked," which brought another round of laughs.

He went to the park as often as he could, because around her, he forgot his own pain and troubled past. A past filled with constant beatings and verbal abuse as a child, service in the Army in two dangerous places (without a valuable skill, where else would you go?), and a biochemical mishap that left him with severe nerve damage, near kidney failure and one good lung. He made a living, if you could call it that, by photography.

"Johnnie, come play with me" she would excitedly call to him! She was always smiling, despite her own problems. A little girl should be out playing with her doll carriage, going to tea parties, and such – not worrying if she would live 'til tomorrow.

And he called her "Chrissie." She was the cutest little blonde girl, almost five feet high, with the prettiest blue eyes you ever laid eyes on. Blue eyes – maybe, if she was lucky, some day, some nice boy might see how pretty they are.

John hobbled up the sidewalk and up the steps to her porch. The first time he came here, a neighbor called the police and told them a drunk was hassling the family. Took an hour to convince them otherwise.

He pushed the doorbell; a familiar "Ding-a-ding-dong" chimed. In a minute or so, he could just about make out the distant sound of high heels echoing from the polished hardwood floor.

The door opened, and a voice shouted, "Johnnie, how are you? Come on in – I have some tea on; would you like some?"

"Hi Ellen! It's all right, isn't it? Oh, yes – I could use a cup of tea."

"Chrissie is upstairs asleep; they said she needs to rest. The hospital was quite an ordeal for her. C'mon out to the kitchen – there's a padded chair out there – oh, you know."

John smiled, then limped, struggled, grimaced with pain, and continued out to the eating area. Ellen stood close by, ready to assist, but stubbornly he waved her off. In the kitchen, he found the seat, and soon was rewarded with a hot cup of Oolong and oatmeal cookies.

After adding a squeeze of lemon and a dollop of honey, he stirred, sipped, and said, "I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to visit Chrissie in the hospital. I was in myself – my damn tests! They took more blood, prodded and poked, 'hmmed' a lot and all I got was a 'we'll let you know!' And the worst part is they don't." He conveniently omitted the part where Dr. Thomas C. Gray, Neurologist, said it's getting worse; and Dr. Louise Martin, M.D., estimated he had two years to go before everything would shut down. Two years and all the pain and suffering will be over.

"I thought as much, Johnnie," Ellen said then smiled as she continued, "Chrissie is very much improved now! Seems the newest drug combo is really working in her favor."

Inside, John was as happy as a clam (although how a clam would know it was happy was just beyond his ken) for his best friend. They had cheered, cried, laughed -- just like two sisters: not strangers, one of them being a beaten down old man.

As John sipped his tea, Ellen brought him up-to-date on Chrissie: how the doctors were amazed at her progress; how well she was doing in therapy, and how upbeat she was, always saying, "I'm going to beat this – just you wait and see!"

"I'm really, really happy for her! I can't stay too long, things to do, you know!"

Ellen frowned. "Now don't give me that! Stay and chat a while, John. You and Chris have fun together, but I know very little about you: for example, where were you born, how are YOU doing?"

So, one cup turned into three, a plate of oatmeal cookies disappeared, and a painful history was retold. John felt better after each retelling – perhaps it was some kind of catharsis. This time he got through it with only a single tear; well, maybe two.

"John, I shouldn't do this," Ellen began, "but I need a favor done. It involves Chris."

"She need blood, donations, rides to doctors or school – just name it!"

"It's nothing like that. Emm, you see I made a promise to Chris that if she showed a certain level of improvement, I would get her a special doll! It's one she's been wanting for a long, long time. It's paid for, and all I need do is pick it up. But, the problem is that I need to stay close to Chris – she has certain medicines she has to take at certain times. So, I can't go."

"Say no more – just tell me where in the city to go . . . "

"John, it's not in the city," Ellen interrupted, "It's in the next state. I can't get it shipped, because it is rather fragile, and I don't want to take a chance on damage. I'll pay for all your gas and an overnight stay. It means so much – I promised her, and I don't want to go back on my word."

"Funny," John grinned, "I need to take a few 'rolls' of scenery for a customer. It will fit right in, Ellen. And don't you go slipping me any money, now! I'll be glad to do whatever it takes to help Chrissie."

Oh, Johnnie, I'm so glad you said that, thought Ellen. "No, damn you! Stop being so damn effing stubborn. Take the effing money, for Christ's sake."

At that pronouncement, John's head shot back – he had never heard Ellen use one cuss word, let alone three. Rethinking, he could use the money, so he said with raised eyebrows, "W-e-e-l-l-l, if you put it THAT way, I guess I'd better!"

"You better believe it, buster," Ellen replied grinningly, "Here's two hundred dollars – that's for gas, food, overnight stay, and 'film for your cameras,' and no arguments, okay?"

"Okay," John replied, grudgingly accepting the bills. He knew better than to argue with a woman. Especially one who called him "buster."

In a matter of minutes, John was told the address, a route was planned, and overnight stays figured out. The Interstate would bring him close, but there was still a drive to go from there.

"I don't have to pack, Ellen, I keep an overnighter in the trunk."

"John, you can leave in the morning, when you're rested – I don't want you to be a statistic!"

"But . . . "

"No, John! Tomorrow is fine! I'll call and tell the lady to expect you. Now, please – tomorrow morning, after a good breakfast."

John mumbled an okay, as he studied the map. The trip was about two hundred miles, as the crow flies – but he was driving, so it was closer to two fifty. By his watch it was two thirty in the pee emm.

"Well, Ellen, let's get these dishes done," John replied, thinking he could be there and back by six thirty tomorrow.

"SIT! I'll get these done. Okay, while I wash, you tell me the real truth about your tests."

"Looks like I can't hide anything from you Ellen," John grinned, and told her the whole story – almost.

At three o'clock, John left for home. Ellen went to her phone, quickly dialed a number, and left the following message: "John agreed to pick up doll. If I know him, he'll be going tonight. Please don't hurt him – he's been hurt too much in life."

Back in his car, John looked back at the house and silently said, "Sorry, Ellen. The sooner I go, the sooner she has her doll." Within half an hour, he was cruising at 60 mph on the Interstate. At seven pee emm, he was off the interstate and stopped for the night at the cheapest motel he could find. A check of his map in the room showed he was about an hour away.

At seven thirty the next day, John stirred from his sleep, stumbled in crutches to the bathroom, where he took care of nature's call, ran a bath, and generally got ready for the next phase of "Operation Doll."

By nine, he was in the dining room ordering bacon, scrambled eggs, sausage, juice and toast. The coffee was complimentary. It was much better than his "home cooking," which really could use some help.

After paying the bills, he was back onto a three-lane highway leading to a hilly area. The three lanes eventually became a climbing two lane into a mountainous area – well, to someone born and raised in a flat area like John, these were mountains.

Looking around, John slowed down to 30 mph as he took in the scenery. "Wow," he thought, "I could really get some great shots here."

At a wide spot in the road, John pulled over, found his Minolta 5 meg, and took a shot of a gravel road intersecting with the highway on the right. Another was taken of an abandoned "art deco period" gas station. A third composition was a blue-painted chalet-type house that attracted his attention. That done, he looked at his map, thinking out loud, "Let's see – it's on the right, about two and a half miles more. Ellen said there's a sign outside, so I couldn't miss it."

Back in the car, John continued at 30 mph, admiring the scenery. The sign, "Madame Crystal Lake, Purveyor of Perfectly Proper Dolls for Particular People, 1 mile" caught his eye.

"Well, she's right there! With that sign, nobody could miss it," John mused. "Soon, Chrissie, we'll have your gift!" He felt elated at doing this, and smiled at the thought of seeing her face light up.

The establishment was slightly off-road, down a gravel drive. It appeared to be a house from the late Victorian period with a slate roof and railed porch painted in battleship gray. Two wicker Adirondak chairs, also painted gray, added a bit of ambiance. To the left of the porch steps was a flower garden with daisies, and other flowers he could not name. On the right, a green-painted trellis supported two rose bushes – one with white flowers, and the other one, red. And a little further away, a floral-decorated gazebo. Off to the left, another garden (?) appeared – for what purpose, John mused.

With the aid of his crutches, he got up to the door, and was surprised when it opened. "Hello," he called, "Anybody home?"

"Come on in, John – I've been expecting you!"

Expecting me? How could . . . Where could . . . Oh well, we can ask.

"Hello, John," she said as he entered the home, "Ellen called and said you were coming. Said you'd be here a little later – I guess you just couldn't wait to see the doll, but how about some nice herb tea."

John smiled, said, "Thank you very much – I could use something. Can I assist you?" He took a good look at his hostess. Her brown hair caught his attention! It was just like one of his nurse's – he remembered because she was his favorite. This woman appeared to be about forty-five or so, wore blue jeans and a white blouse.

Looking around, he saw shelves of dolls – there were boy dolls, girl dolls, nurse dolls, ballerinas, baby dolls, some in beautiful wedding gowns and others standing ready to be a treasure to some little girl. Several dolls were boxed, ready for shipping; others in various stages of completion. There was the fragrance of roses, lilies, lilacs and other scents. Snips of cloth littered the floor: bits of satins and silks; nylon and tulle; pink, red and green cotton cloth – it was the female version of the North Pole gone wild.

"Come over here, John and sit by me," Crystal said, patting the seat beside her. "Do you require my assistance?"

He grinned, shook his head, hobbled over, sat and took the offered tea.

"My name is Crystal Lake. I'm a maker of fine dolls! As you can see, it's a little cluttered right now."

John smiled as he took in the view. Something here made him feel different. "Christmas is a long ways off, Mrs. Claus," he grinned.

Crystal laughed as she replied, "We need to work all year 'round to get the orders done, you know. John, why don't you drink your tea, and we'll have that special order done."

For a minute John was confused. If she was sitting here, how could she finish the order, unless she has help. Of course, that has to be it!

He took a sip of the oddly flavored tea, decided he liked the brew, whatever it was. The inquiry, "This is really nice – I've had a lot of tea, but I just can't seem to place this. It's like an Assamese, combined with licorice and mint with a hint of, of . . . of what?"

She answered, "There is a bit of Sri Lanka, a bit of Assamese, some oolong, a touch of yerba mate, but the rest is a secret blend of special herbs and home-grown spices."

John finished one cup, had a second along with an oddly seasoned salad. At two o'clock, he was dead to the world.

Crystal looked at the sleeping man and intoned a prayer for his safe keeping. "John never got what he deserved in life, so life will now give him what he desperately wants."

. . . - - - . . . - - - … --- … --- . . - - . - . - … -- …

A small mound stirred under pink satin sheets in a canopied bed larger than she needed. One hand stretched, followed by the other. Then quickly, the body went upright – a small hand moved to a face, felt around. The scream was next – "aaaaagggghhh! What happened to me!?"

The door to the room opened, Crystal walked in, and simply said, "John, it's alright. Lay back, and I will explain during breakfast."

"What . . . why . . . what did you do to me," John started to say, then noticed the lack of the pain he had endured for years – his penance, he called it. "Please, Crystal, tell me – what's going on?"

"In good time, doll!" She deliberately gave him a hint.

"No, damn it – now! Oh, hell, I'm sorry. I'm just so, so . . . confused. Please, tell me I'm not going mad, that this is not a dream."

"First, you must eat – you've been asleep for five days. We'll get you dressed, have a nice breakfast, and Auntie Crystal will tell my little darling all that's happened."

At "my little darling," John scrunched up his nose. Sleeping five days was his first shock, the second was the fact that he now appeared to be – no, was -- a little girl about seven years old. He marveled at the ability to move without pain.

"If I have to be anything, I'll be it as long as I'm free of that suffering. Crystal, this is so strange, but I thank you. I don't know how much more struggling just to go to the bathroom I could accept," John said, as he twisted his wrists and ankles, lifted his legs up and down.

From the dresser, Crystal got a mirror and slowly approached the bed. "I think you'll like what you'll see."

John looked in the mirror at the little girl. She had brown eyes, honey-blonde hair, flawless skin and the cutest dimples. "Is that really me?"

"Yes," Crystal replied, "Now we need you dressed and fed. You have a busy day ahead."

"But . . . "

"No buts . . . Out of bed, young lady! Bath – now."

John accepted the offered robe, slipped it on and scampered ahead of Crystal. It was to be his first bubble bath.

In the bathroom, Crystal washed and scrubbed her charge as clean as could be. Then it was out of the tub, a good toweling down, a powdering all over, and into Crystal's bedroom. (John had a good look at his new "appearance" and absolutely enjoyed the lack of pain. It was a better than even trade.)

When he saw the frou-frou waiting on the bed, he skidded to a halt. "Whoa, is that what you intend for me?"

Her grinning reply was "You better believe it, doll."

"Well, if I close my eyes maybe it won't be so bad."

"Now that's the spirit! Let's go," Crystal said with exaggerated enthusiasm.

Twenty minutes later, John was standing in front of a mirror looking at a lovely seven-year-old in a white nylon dress with petticoats peeking under, white Mary Janes with lace top anklets, and a very attractive woman behind him affixing a huge bow to his long hair. A quarter-filled charm bracelet was on his left wrist, along with a bracelet and watch (yes, a watch – can't be late for hair appointments).

"I . . . I, I . . . Crystal, I look like a girl from the . . ."

"You are a very adorable young lady who wants to display how pretty she is. This does not mean you are '80s, '60s, '30s or even 1890's. Only that you like to dress as feminine as possible!"

When Crystal was finished, John turned one way, then the other. He held out the skirts of the dress and swayed, pirouetted, then danced, enjoying the lack of debilitating pain – he never felt so good.

"Okay, little missy, I'm hungry! If you want to admire yourself, you can stay – me, I'm getting breakfast," she stated, as she held out her hand.

John took it, and together they went down to eat.

Over a delicious meal of four organic scrambled eggs with onions and peppers, four organic bacon/sausage(s), half a plate of home fries, a choice of juice (no coffee for a little girl). As he ate, Crystal told him, "The story of the doll was a ruse to get you here, where I could perform this 'operation.' Your new name is Sandra – just like Chrissie's favorite doll."

John nodded, thought a minute then inquired, "but what about the 'John' me – won't she miss me?"

"Ellen already explained that you are very sick and in a hospice on the coast, and that you are a niece he was caring for. He's not expected to live much longer. The adoption papers are already signed."

"You mean I will be Chrissie's sister?"

Crystal looked at her and saw the smile starting to form. "Yes! You and she will grow up together, go to school together, and learn to be ladies together – that is why you are a little girl now."

"But I have 'John's' memories, right?"

"For a while, yes. In time, they will fade – the abuse, pain, rejections – all gone."

Bzzzz, bzzzz, bzzzz.

"That's the porch step alarm. I think that's Chrissie and Ellen; I'll go and greet them."

Well, that answered one question. Sandra – not a bad name. It could've been Priscilla, Missie, or Cecellia, John thought. His hands traveled all over his new, smaller body. OH, MY GOD! BOYS!

"C'mon, Sandra. Meet your new family," Crystal said from the kitchen entrance.

Sandra got up and almost skipped to the work/family/parlor room.

"Hi, Sandra," Ellen said, "This is your new sister, Chrissie. Chrissie, this is Sandra – John's little niece."

Chrissie came over and gave Sandra a big kiss and hug, "I always wanted a sister!" she said. "I'm s-o-o-o-o sorry about your uncle John – he was my bestest friend."

Soon the two girls were sitting, holding hands and giggling, just like two sisters should.

"Oh, Ellen," Crystal started, "here's a bag with some cameras in – Sandra was taking after her uncle. I understand he was interested in photography, and I think she should be encouraged in that direction."

Ellen took the bag, smiled, and enigmatically stated, "He was the best thing for Chrissie, and I do, and will continue to, love him for that."

"So, how is Chrissie? That tea work as planned?"

"The doctors were floored!! They can't understand it – what did you do?"

Crystal smiled as she replied, "It's simple, really. Chrissie has a reaction to certain metallic elements in foods. In her case, they accumulated, and caused her the symptoms she showed. The tea I sent washed out that accumulation, and once she is free of that poison, she's a normal healthy girl. In time, she'll grow out of it. Before you go, I'll give you another three month's supply."

"But the doctors? Why couldn't they diagnose the disease?"

Crystal replied, "There are no more than ten cases, worldwide, in a year. Very, very few doctors even know it exists."

It was after a tour of the entire house, workshops, and outside that the girls grew restless. Back inside, Crystal said, "I thank you for coming – if you want, you can stay overnight here."

"Crystal, I thank you very much, but I want to show Chrissie off to the hospital staff back home. And I already have a reservation at a motel just off the Interstate. So, I guess I'll be seeing you in three months, then."

"And I'll be seeing all you and the girls! Keep in touch, and do let me know how Sandra is adopting to her new life – any problems, just call."

"Will do. C'mon girls – say your good byes."

Chrissie was the first to hug and kiss Crystal, adding, "Thank you so very much for my new sister. I love her so much already."

Crystal replied, "You are so welcome dear. She will help you remember John."

As Chrissie and Ellen went to Ellen's car, Crystal said a private good bye to John: "Take good care of yourself, sweetheart. Live a good life, treat others kindly, and think of Auntie Crystal fondly."

It was a sobbing little girl that hugged and kissed the older woman. "I'll never, ever forget you. I'll try to be the best sister to Chrissie!"

Crystal smiled as the little girl ran off to get into her new parents car. She waved her good-byes to them, until the car was well out on the road.

"Ah Crystal, sweetheart, this is the way it should be," she said quietly to herself as she re-entered her house. The laugh came naturally as she noted mentally, "I can't wait 'til Sandra finds out that Chrissie is a latent Lesbian! Won't that be a real hoot!"

 

Blessed Be, Annie O

  

  

  

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