Ch Ch Ch Changes! Ch. 08-09

Chapter 8

My life settles down considerably after that eventful weekend. The next few weeks pass by filled with work, dinners with Sarah, and a couple of coffee dates with Sadie. Sarah and I never end up in bed again - though I think about it often, it just never seems to be the right time. It's early fall and the corporate gigs really pick up as the weather starts to cool and the resorts fill up. I'm asked out several times, though the invitations are always by men staying at the resorts. Having had such a bad experience on my first date I decline all these invitations - despite desperately wanting to experience intimacy with a guy for the first time I'm not willing to risk another bad experience. I continue to learn a lot more about my body and pleasuring myself, though. I also start to feel more comfortable in my body, no longer noticing the way it moves and jiggles so much - instead being able to see how it attracts the eyes of men and how I can use it in subtle ways to help things go my way.

I also meet Dr. Petterson. She's a really elegant woman in her mid 50s, quite tall - almost six feet - and rail-thin like a runway model. She dresses the part of a therapist, wearing earthen colors that flatter her olive skin and always keeping her long, graying brown hair back in a pony tail. She has a habit of peering over her half-moon readers that is equal parts analytical and endearing. The sanctity of our therapy sessions really allows me to dig into some of the challenges that have come up for me since the events of the solstice. We spend tons of time discussing safety concerns - Dr. Petterson seems more worried about me than I am about myself. As with so many other things, the more I listen the more I understand. She calls all the wisdom she imparts to me, 'psycho-education' - it doesn't require me to develop an insight into my own stuff, she just tosses it out there for me to digest. While Dr. Petterson had the same experience that I did - more than thirty years ago she too had been a man - she tells me that any trace of the man she'd been left her mind more than a decade ago.

In late September Sarah tells me that a guy she's been dating on and off in a sort of friends-with-benefits arrangement has a really good friend and that she wants us all to go on a double date. I'm super hesitant at first - my only other blind date with a 'nice guy' nearly got me raped. Sarah talks me down though, pointing out that she'll be there the entire time and that we've completed a self-defense course and that our hands are now registered as 'deadly weapons' with the FBI. Oh, dear Sarah and her silly sense of humor!

Sarah suggests that we do a double date that would have been right at home in the 1950s - going to see a movie at a drive-in theatre.

"Really? A drive in? Seriously?" I ask.

"Sure... look at it this way. If Sam's friend, Marcus, is a dog it'll be dark and you won't have to look at him. Plus, Sam has one of those fucking environmental nightmares of an SUV. There'll be so much room for you in the back seat that you'll either of plenty of space to get laid, or be able to put a lot of distance between you guys if you aren't into him." She looks at me with her puppy dog eyes.

I roll my eyes, and nod, assenting to my participation in this little adventure. Truth be told, I'm actually really excited to go. I've been working like a dog, taking extra gigs whenever I can - Dr. Petterson suggests that it's a way of 'sublimating' my conflicting feelings of desire and fear into something much less threatening like work.

Sarah is so excited by this that she tells me we have to go shopping again to pick out a new outfit for me. So it's back to the mall where I find a beautiful, and just-sexy-enough jumpsuit with dark, red flower prints on an almost purple fabric. It's cut in a halter style that has shows off a lot of my shoulders and some of my side-boob so it's super sexy that way, but it's a one-piece outfit that won't make it easy for an unscrupulous guy to get into. I can't wear a bra with it, given the way it's cut around my shoulder and chest - an idea that I find fun and sexy. Sarah convinces me to to get a raspberry colored, banded lace thong that would have stopped my heart had I seen it on a lover back when I was a guy.

We also go back to the spa where I get my hair cut. With my curls I can't go too short, but Lance, the fashionista, suggests cutting the hair on my temples super short, what'd I'd have considered a 'buzz cut' back in the day. He tells me that it'll be cooler and decrease the amount of volume that was starting to make my head looks disproportionately large. Sarah also convinces me to wax my legs and bikini line. While I can't say that the waxing was as traumatic as my first blind date, I do develop a new feeling of simpatico with that scene from "The 40 year old Virgin".

Driving back from mall we stop to get slushies at an Eegee's - a local sandwich chain that has these awesomely fruity, thick, icy drinks. We're sitting at a little table in a small, low-walled courtyard enjoying the cool sweetness when we see a woman hobbling across the parking lot. She's very dirty, her skin seems to have the consistency of leather and she's limping. She has short, dark, unkempt hair with several streaks of grey. Her sallow, pitted skin, looks like it's lost all of its natural fat and looks like a thin layer of sore-blotched skin has been stretched over her skull. Her blue eyes seem to be falling into her skull. Her clothes are filthy, her white teeshirt is ragged, and hangs off her narrow, bony shoulders limply. Her pants are several sizes too large for her hips and waist, barely able to stay up on her narrow hips even with an old leather belt. The cheap hiking boots she's wearing have several holes and seem to be held together with duct tape. She stops at a garbage can on the sidewalk and starts rummaging through it, just tossing refuse onto the sidewalk in her search. We can hear her mumbling to herself, her voice hoarse. Her lips are cracked, and are an unhealthy shade of pink with white blotches. When she opens her mouth it's clear that she's missing many teeth.

I look at Sarah and she mouths 'meth head' at me. Not having experience with people addicted to methamphetamine I'm completely fascinated by the way she looks and behaves. She rummages around deeper in the bin, finds the remains of someone's discarded sandwich and digs into it, barely pausing to chew. It's equal parts disgusting and fascinating to watch. She leaves the trash strewn about and starts to walk in our direction again, I turn my head and look away, ashamed of the way I've been staring at her, and not wanting to get caught.

When she's only several yards away, just on the other side of the low fence that separates the courtyard where we sit, from the parking lot I hear her howl, literally howl like a coyote in anger.

"Fuck... It's you! You FUCKING CUNT!" her voice is gravely and raw, as though she's been screaming a lot.

Both Sarah and I, surprised, turn our full attention to her, Sarah moving so abruptly that she knocks her slushy to the ground, splattering strawberry Eegee across our legs and shoes.

The tweaker scurries up to the fence, the whites her sickly blue eyes streaked with red vessels against a jaundiced background. "Liesl... you CUNT! I'm going to fucking kill you! You ruined me. You did this to me!"

My jaw drops open. I've never seen this woman, or anyone like her in my life, especially during my short life inhabiting a woman's body. I don't let my eyes move away from the perceived danger of the toothless hag but pitch a quiet question at Sarah, "What's going on? How does she know my name?"

The meth head pitches the remnants of the sandwich at me, it isn't even close, but the intent is clear. Her eyes dart about looking for a way into the courtyard, thankfully the only way in is through the restaurant.

Sarah replies, speaking softly so that the woman can't hear her, "Liesl, I have no idea who she is, or how she knows your name. This is some scary ass shit! I'm going to call the police." I sense her looking into her purse, and hope that she is calling for help.

The woman's rage builds, spittle flies from her cracked lips as her horse voice amplifies more threats. "I'm coming in there you fucking prick tease!" She breaks a branch off a palo verde tree, her thin arms exerting an uncanny amount of strength. "I'm coming in there and I'm going to shove this up your tight cunt just like I should have fucked you in the parking lot!"

I can't help myself... the piña colada slushy I'd be drinking comes back up faster than lightning and I'm barely able to turn my head away from Sarah before I shower the Saltillo tiles of the courtyard with sticky, warm, coconut-flavored vomit.

My blind date has found me. The meth-fueled rage of what has become of John Kline screams at me as she starts moving towards the door of the restaurant. "The fucking Wiccans... the fucking Wiccans... I can't kill them, but I can murder you BITCH!"

I heave again, my stomach emptied. I look at Sarah, and I'm sure there is nothing but terror in my eyes, because there is certainly not much more than terror in every other part of my being.

I feel Sarah's hand on my wrist. I see her grab my my purse. "Liesl... LIESL!" She shakes my roughly by my shoulder, breaking my trance. "We are leaving!" She yanks on my arm so hard that I feel the chair start to tip under me, I catch myself at the last moment and feel her pull me towards the fence as she-who-was-John-Kline slams open the door of the sandwich shop. Sarah places a chair with it's back to the fence, and I feel her pushing me up onto it as I realize it will provide just enough height for me to scramble over the barrier between the courtyard and the sidewalk, giving me safe access to the parking lot, and the safety of Sarah's car. I scramble up and over, knocking my shin painfully against the hard edge of the fence. I hear the glass of the front door shatter - but can't afford to look.

"Liesl... hurry, she's coming!"

I just sort of fall over the fence and land on my left shoulder, the sidewalk's unforgiving concrete knocks the wind out of me. Sarah is on the fence now, and I look up at her and see her kick the chair away and almost gracefully vault to her feet just beside me. She reaches down with an arm that carries both of our purses, while her other hand holds her mobile to her ear.

I hear the patio door open with a sound that is nearly identical to the one I heard from the front door, the tinkle of broken glass across the tiles in the courtyard marking her progress.

"Liesl... come on..." I look up... searching the lot... confused with pain and terror, while adrenaline floods every nook and cranny of my being.

"We are being attacked... She said she wants to kill us! The Eegee's on Oracle at Orange Grove! Please hurry..." Sarah is screaming into her phone, presumably talking to a 911 dispatcher.

I roll onto my knees, I feel Sarah continuing to tug at arm. I manage to stand and start half falling and half running towards her car, both my shoulder and knee bright spots of pain clouding my awareness. We are moving more quickly with each second, but the rage I feel being broadcast from the tweaker-John-Kline leaves no doubt that we won't be safe until we are driving away in Sarah's Prius. We reach the car and I dive into the driver's-side, back seat while Sarah slides behind the wheel. She pushes the ignition button and her trusty Prius provides a bing to let us know it's awake and ready. I sit up and try to grab the door shut but feel the the force of the car's acceleration while Sarah makes a left turn push me into the passenger-side door. That same force slams the opposite door shut for me.

"Please... we are in our car and leaving the restaurant. She just shattered two doors and is coming for us."

Sarah doesn't slow down when she gets to the Oracle Blvd exit of the parking lot, turning a sharp right that flings me across the back seat once again, this time hitting the thankfully shut driver's side door. A blinding flash of light clouds my vision as I feel my head impact some hard part of the car.

The little motors in the car whine loudly as it slowly picks up speed. Finally, I'm able to look back and see that wreck of a human being tumble onto the sidewalk in pursuit, her bright blue eyes still somehow visible to me even as we quickly distance ourselves from her.

"Yes, I'll stay on the phone. Please, send a cop! Yes, we are safer now... we're driving south on Oracle."

Sarah checks her mirror and I feel the car lurch to the left across the three lanes of traffic, once again sending me like a pinball across the car. I feel far more dizzy than I should, even with Sarah's erratic driving.

"Fuck... Sarah... you're gonna kill me back here." I feel blood trickling down my leg, from my nose, and the new pain in my head. My shoulder aches from multiple collisions with the pavement and car doors.

"Buckle up, Buttercup! We can't lose track of her. I'm going back and making sure the police find her!" Sarah is on a mission. I see that she's pulling into a left-turn lane and quickly fasten my seatbelt before she can make the u-turn that might finally dislocate my shoulder or break my neck.

On cue, she does exactly that. The Prius' old, worn and undersized tires sort of bounce and skid as she whips the car around, heading back towards the restaurant in the relative safety of the car.

"Thank you... yes, we are returning to the restaurant. We're going to follow the crazy bitch..." Sarah seems to be in her element as she navigates traffic and the 911 dispatcher.

The phone finally pairs with the car's Bluetooth and I hear the dispatcher's preternaturally calm voice from the speakers behind me.

"We have officers on the way, ETA is 2 minutes. DO NOT ENGAGE THE SUSPECT. Do you understand? DO NOT ENGAGE THE SUSPECT." Her voice is equal parts calm and authoritative.

"We won't... we are just going to make sure the officers can find her!" Sarah tosses her phone onto the passenger seat now that the Bluetooth is working.

"Has anyone been injured?" queries the dispatcher.

I see Sarah's eyes looking for me in the rear-view, they drip with fear and anger. "Liesel, sweetie? Are you ok?"

With the overdose of adrenaline fading, the sharp pain I feel in my shin from the fence, and both my shoulders from the fall and subsequent smashes against the car doors starts to push the terror of being attacked from my awareness, substituting pain in equal measure.

I feel myself nod just a split second before the tears start burning down my vomit-smeared and bloody cheeks. I begin to wail in terrified pain and anguish.

"We are dispatching an ambulance to the restaurant. Is the victim breathing?"

"She's the one you hear wailing in pain right now!" Sarah reports as she scans the roadway ahead of her, we are quickly approaching the sandwich shop again. "So yah.. she's breathing but she looks really hurt!"

I hear the wail of a police siren as Sarah slows the car and slips into the left-turn lane across three lanes of traffic from the entrance of the Eegee's. I see the vile form of tweaker-Kline not 20yards away from us, across those three lanes of traffic. Her dirty fists balled up so tightly it looks like her arms just end in little knobs. Her rage-filled eyes are darting about as she scans the environment for her prey. Sarah slams the breaks on the car, bringing us to an abrupt halt and painfully pressing the seatbelt into my battered shoulder. I'm guessing that Sarah sees the abomination and is trying to figure out whether to turn, wait, or pull back into traffic and drive away. The need for Sarah to make a decision is quickly rendered moot.

The sudden stop of our car catches she-who-was-Kline's eye and I see her recognize Sarah's car. There isn't even half a second between the look of recognition and the beginning of Kline's rage-driven sprint directly at us, heedless of any danger.

Oracle road is technically a highway and is the main traffic artery connecting central Tucson to the populous northwest corner of Tucson. As such, there is almost always heavy, fast moving traffic across all six lanes, much of it commercial in nature. Speeds on this stretch of the highway average fifty miles per hour. Today is no different. The last thing I see before my world blinks to black is the flat face of a white delivery van advertising "Tina's Tasty Tortillas" erasing what was John Kline from my story.

Chapter 9

I wake up to strange sounds, on an uncomfortable bed, and with bright, glaring lights that prevent me from immediately understanding where I am. The first thing I recognize is Sarah's voice, "Oh thank God, you're awake!" I feel her hand holding mine.

I blink several times and raise my hand to shield my eyes, quickly realizing that there is an IV in place on the back of my hand. I manage to shield out the worst of the glare and realize I'm in a busy Emergency Department. Sarah and I are alone in a glass-walled treatment room and I can see all sorts of professionals in scrubs and lab coats going about their business.

My lips are really dry and when I speak my voice sounds a bit horse. "Sarah, what happened? Why am I in the hospital?" The pounding ache that rings my head like crown, another sharper ache in my right shoulder, and a dull throbbing pain in my knee should all be clues as to why I'm here, but my brain is working that way yet.

"Liesl, I'm soooo sorry. Oh sweetie, you have a concussion, a broken shoulder, and a deep gash on your leg. You passed out right after..." her voice trails off. I seem to recall some wild event taking place earlier today but its all really fuzzy - like I'm watching a really tiny video on a phone held too far away from my eyes. "The most important thing is that you are safe now. It's all over, sweetie. I'm sorry my driving was so awful. I think I gave you the concussion."

She's clutching my IV-free hand with both of hers now. I look at her and see that she's crying and it appears as though she's been doing so for quite some time. Her cute little nose is all red, the skin under it rubbed raw. "Concussion? Sarah... what happened. Weren't we at the mall?"

"Oh my God... the doctor said you might not remember. We went to gets slushies after the mall. We were at an Eegee's and we saw this meth-head woman." Sarah looks around to see if anyone is listening, then pitches her voice down in volume and tone. "She started screaming at you. I think she was that douche-bag you had a date with, that guy that almost raped you in the parking lot! She said something about the Wiccans changing her back! She came after us - She wanted to kill you, Liesl. I'm sure of it. You took a bad fall trying to get away and then..." Sarah looks really sad and apologetic, a tear rolls down her cheek, "I got you in my car to get away but you got slammed around because I was so panicked when I drove off. Either the fall or my driving or maybe both ended up giving you a concussion, and chipped a bone in your shoulder. The gash on your knee happened when you were climbing the fence, at least that's what I think caused it."

I feel oddly disconnected from the story she is telling. In one respect I know it to be true, and can even remember vague, brief images of what happened. At the same time I feel that those events are emotionally and cognitively a million miles away from my experience.

"Really? That Kline guy got changed back? Black hair, blue eyes?"

Sarah nods.

"What happened to him... or her I guess?"

Sarah's face pales. She looks at me very seriously. "She ran out into traffic on Oracle when she saw my car. She got hit by a delivery truck at full speed. She was killed instantly!"

Sarah's words register in my mind, but don't connect to any emotions. "That sounds awful. The entire thing!"