Spells ‘R Us: Sobo                by: Vanessa Singer

 

George Fitzgerald sat next to his grandmother’s bed, holding her hand. She was calm now, but he knew that wouldn’t last. When she awoke from the drug-induced stupor, she would be as bewildered and confused as before. And, sadly, that bewilderment would continue until the day she died.

Alzheimer’s had taken hold very rapidly, even in a woman of her advanced age. She’d been so vibrant and full of life until just two years ago, when she began to forget things. It started slow, but after the diagnosis, Hatsano Takemori did something for the first time in her eighty-nine years of life. She gave up.

George, her sole surviving grandchild, had made sure that she was placed in the best care money could buy, but there were limits to what they could do. The drugs had helped at first to extend her periods of lucidity, but now, the disease was winning. And all George could do was watch and pray for a miracle.

"It’ll be alright, sobo," he said softly as she jerked slightly. He looked away as he stroked her hand, his gaze locked on the tattered picture of his grandmother from many years ago. It was at least fifty years old, and showed a much younger and more vibrant Hatsano Takemori amongst her fellow dancers. She’d had quite a career as a dancer before meeting Patrick Fitzgerald during the war. Even after they’d moved back to the states, she found steady work until age caught up with her. But those good years had left her with many stories that she’d shared with George. Stories that George cherished more and more each day.

The door to the room opened, and an older woman dressed in a nurse’s uniform entered. She was in her late forties, but still was quite pretty. She wore her long blonde hair in a tight bun and a pleasant smile on her face.

"How are you today, George?"

"I’m alright, Miss Louis," he answered, never breaking his grip with her hand. Angela Louis had watched this boy, who was still in his early twenties, come in every day to spend time with the only family he had left in the world. He’d spent so much time with her that he’d lost the well-paying job that had allowed him to afford this level of care. Angela knew that he only had one more month before they would be forced to move Hatsano to a state-run facility.

George talked to Angela for a few minutes, then asked if he could have a few moments with his grandmother in private. Angela smiled and wished George a good day, leaving to continue her rounds. As she left, George closed the door behind her and quietly set the lock.

"Sobo, I can’t bare to see you like this," he said softly, reaching under his chair to retrieve the small lacquer box he’d concealed beneath his coat. He paused for a moment, weighing the options in his head. If he proceeded with his plan, he was forfeiting his life. He knew that, and yet, he couldn’t stop himself. It was too painful to see her going on this way.

"I met a man today, Sobo. A good man who said he can help you," George said, sliding open the lid. He glanced up at the door, making sure that no one was coming, and continued. From the box, George pulled a small bronze wand. He admired it for a moment before continuing. It was old, but still had a brilliant luster. Circling it were words in some lost language, etched into metal that seemed to glow with power.

George moved his grandmother’s hands softly, forcing them to hold the cool surface of the rod. Her grip tightened the lower end while George held the top. Between them, hints of the etched lettering was visible.

"Now, please, be brave…" George said as he began to recite the words that the old man at the mall had taught him. He’d never seen the little store before today, but something seemed to draw him to the odd little man in the bathrobe. He somehow knew everything about George, including his deep heartache involving his grandmother. George had been about to buy a new frame for his grandmother’s picture when suddenly, without any explanation, the old man produced the wand. George was hesitant at first, but after what the old man had told him, he didn’t see any other way to help his grandmother. So, he purchased it for ten dollars and waited for his opportunity.

Both George and Hatsano released audible sighs as the wand came to life. In the pit of his stomach, George felt something like a hole open and a sickening sense of flow begin. It wasn’t blood or anything so vile. It was more of a spiritual aspect. Some part of his soul was flowing out of him, through the wand and down into the ancient woman he loved so much. And, just as suddenly, the flow reversed, forcing some of Hatsano Takemori’s soul into her grandson’s body. It roared into him, spreading warmth and contentment throughout his young form.

The wand didn’t work instantly, nor did it care for what essential elements of George Fitzgerald and Hatsano Takemori were swapped. It took a long time for the young man’s spirit to fill the old woman and expel the disease from her mind. He could feel her mind growing stronger and her memories clearing beneath the haze of disease. He feared he might lose consciousness as the spiritual ebb-and-flow continued, draining him and then refilling him with the essence of another. Aspects of himself were lost forever, but not traded away for naught.

George closed his eyes as the waves of essence washed over him. Then, suddenly, the connection was broken. The wand grew cold and fear washed over the young man’s mind.

"Sobo?" He asked quietly, but heard a voice that was not his own. Opening his eyes, he looked down on a woman that seemed younger by a few years. Streaks of black marred her hair, and the deep pronounced wrinkles on her face seemed softer. Those were the only physical changes George could see to his grandmother, but his own were far more extensive. He’d feared that the wand would transfer the disease to him. Or perhaps he would lose all of his faculties while his grandmother regained her own. But, that was not the case. He still could remember and compute in his head. But, in exchange for his mental clarity and just a pinch of youth, he had taken in a great deal of his grandmother’s essence.

The first thing he noticed was the hair. His own was as dark as night, but had always been cut short. Now, it seemed to hang low, brushing against his shoulders. He lifted his hands to his chest and felt strange fleshy mounds. He slipped his hands into his ill-fitting pants and felt the slit between two strong legs. It took all his willpower not to scream, instead moving into the small bathroom to see the extent of his transformation.

George Fitzgerald saw a woman reflected back from the mirror. A woman with mostly Asian features, but sharing some of his own. She had wide brown eyes and jet-black hair, but retained a hint of Irish blood in her veins. She stood as tall as George, though his clothes didn’t fit her quite as well. Her pert bosom pressed against the white shirt, stretching it uncomfortably over sensitive nipples. Her hips were much wider, causing him discomfort when he walked. And her legs were longer, making the tan slacks look like high-waters. She looked to be about his age, if maybe a bit older, and was rather attractive. She looked very much like Hatsano.

Two weeks later, Hatsano Takemori’s time at the Mount Pepper Rest Home was over. She had no more money to spend on the expensive home, but it didn’t matter. In open defiance of all that medical science understood, the eighty-nine year old woman had seemingly been pulled back from the abyss of senility. She rode down the hall in the wheelchair, waving to the nurses politely and thanking them for all their help. They took the praise, but wondered if they had anything to do with her remarkable recovery.

The large male nurse pushed the wheelchair out to the front door and waited for a moment as the beige Ford Taurus pulled in from the parking lot. The engine idled for a bit before a tall woman stepped out, wearing a pair of tight blue jeans and a battered DUKE UNIVERSITY sweatshirt. Her short black hair was secured in a pile behind her pretty face, which lit up as her grandmother rose unsteadily from the wheelchair.

"Sobo, please. Just wait until I open the door."

"Nonsense, dear. I’m feel good enough to open my own door."

Georgia Fitzgerald stepped back and swept her arm toward the car, allowing her grandmother to open the door herself. Georgia watched carefully as the old lady got in and buckled her own seat belt. The male nurse folded the chair up and smiled at the pretty young woman who’d appeared just after Hatsano’s recovery began. Georgia smiled back as she thanked him for all his help. Then, she got into the car and pulled away from Mount Pepper, hoping never to return.

"What did you tell them about me," Georgia asked, slipping her sunglasses on as they drove.

"Oh, dear, I just told them that you had gotten a new job that required a lot of travel. They just figured you were a friend or a nurse or something. Don’t worry, my sweet magomusume, no one would believe the truth if I told them"

Georgia smiled. The old lady was at least as spry and mentally sharp as she’d been when Georgia was a boy. Georgia had been amazed at the speed of her grandmother’s recovery, and with her apparent knowledge of all that had happened in that room. She knew that George had given up his manhood for her, and seemed to be perfectly at ease with it. She even commented on how lovely Georgia had become, and how she expected her to go out and have great-grandchildren for her. She wanted someone to share her stories with, and more than anything, wanted to see her granddaughter happy and content with the life she’d gained. Georgia, while not ready to go out and have great-grandchildren, smiled at the suggestion and wondered what other little bits of her grandmother had become part of her as well. Only time would tell, she thought, as they drove back to Georgia’s apartment and into their intertwined lives.

 

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