Sick Time


	Ever had mononucleosis?

	"Mononucleosis ("mono") is an infection caused by the Epstein-Barr
virus.  Signs of mononucleosis include fever, sore throat, headaches,
white patches on the back of your throat, swollen glands in your neck,
feeling tired and not feeling hungry." - AAFP Information Handout.

	In reality, it's like this: imagine being captured by your worst
enemy, who shrinks himself like they did in Fantastic Voyage, clones
himself about a billion times, and then proceeds to beat you to death
from the inside.  And, he's hooked you up to some sort of energy drain,
so you can't even move.

	Add to that nausea, occasional vomiting, and a secondary
respiratory infection or two, and you will understand why, in my lucid
moments, I hated my roommate Jim with a passion.  Because he was the one
that had infected me with all of this.

     The doctor had said it was almost inevitable that I would catch it
if I didn't leave the apartment for safer climes.  Unfortunately, I had
finals during the very week of most danger, and I couldn't leave.  Not
to mention I felt guilty about leaving Jim in the lurch.  He could
barely move himself, and he needed someone to make sure he was drinking
enough water, that he ate what he could...  You know, the sort of stuff
you can do at home to make sure that your roommate doesn't have to go to
the hospital.	Or maybe you don't know.  Anyway, it's not that hard,
even if it is kind of embarrassing at times.

     But I sort of owed him.  We'd come to UT at the same time and ended
up as roommates.  The first surprise I got was finding a big jock type
inhabiting my dorm room.  The second surprise I got was when I found out
he wasn't typical jock mentality - actually a decent human being,
instead of a large animalistic id-made-flesh.  EVERYONE got surprised
when he declared himself homosexual and proceeded to explore that side
of the fence with a vengeance.  It took a lot of late-night talks before
I was comfortable with the idea of an extremely large gay man sharing my
sleeping quarters, but eventually we both got comfortable enough with
the concept that we could joke about it.

     Eventually.

     He grew up in one of those little Texas towns, that you hear about
but I'd never seen, where it's practically a little nation all to
itself, and a monarchy too.  He was the eldest son of the eldest son of
the current patriarch and therefore in line for the throne, and he'd
had a lot to live up to when he was growing up.  Being gay was naturally
not one of them.  I guess the freedom of a 'big' city like Austin had
just been the trigger, and he really cut loose.

	But, he was rich as hell, and when I didn't turn on him like he
expected, he was really really grateful.  I made my own way, but when my
financial aid check was late coming in second semester, he paid for
everything until I got it, and didn't charge me a cent of interest.  And
if a girl hit on him, he'd direct her my way, which worked out a couple
of times.  Things like that.  And, when the first year was over, he
found a condo he wanted and 'paid' me to stay in town and occupy it,
while he went home to the family estate for the summer.  He refused to
let me pay rent, too.  He said it was so he wouldn't lose the best
roommate in the world; I think it was just he was scared of losing
someone that he knew was okay with him being gay.

	I made sure I didn't take advantage of him, like I could have, but
it was kind of cool having a nice place with nice furniture and an
awesome entertainment center and that sort of thing.  And he WOULD have
bought all that stuff whether I was there or not, and I did manage to
save him a couple of hundred dollars a few times, so it worked out well,
I think.

	So when he got mono the two weeks before the end of our second
year, I felt I had to take care of him.  I mean, that's what friends do,
right?  At least that's how I was raised.  So I ignored his protests and
the doctor's advice and did my best for Jim while studying and taking
classes.  His boyfriend Steve did the rest when I couldn't, which was
great, but he worked for a living, and he couldn't be there all the
time.  Steve had already had it, so he was immune; at least we all hoped
and prayed he was...

	My own crash didn't happen until Jim was feeling much better and
finals were over.  Thank God.

	Though I still hated him sometimes.  Mono is like that, though.
Sometimes I hated myself just as bad and wanted to kill myself.	At
those times, I'd cry myself to sleep, which pretty much meant a couple
of sniffles before I passed out.  It's mono; what can I say?

	Anyway, it was a Thursday, the week after finals, that he came
busting into my room in a panic.  "Brad, you gotta help me!"  Seeing as
how I had seriously considered reverting to diapers so I wouldn't have
to make the marathon trek to the bathroom, I really wondered if he'd
lost his mind.

	"Uh," I grunted, which was about all I could manage at that point.
It came out in two octaves, too.  The sore throat I had along with the
mono was a doozy.

	"It's my dad, he's coming to visit!"  I grunted for him to
continue, and he came and sat on the edge of my bed and held a straw to
my lips so I could sip flat Sprite while he explained.  "I've been
telling Dad that I had a girlfriend, right?  After I met Steve and
everything, 'cause he wondered."

     Jim and Steve had been disgustingly cute; after their third date,
even my friends could tell something was going on.  If you could stand
the idea of two gay guys in hearts-and-flowers kind of love...  I could,
barely, but any two people in fresh romance could be ultimately
disgusting, especially to someone like me who was single.  I knew they
couldn't really help it, but it was still gross.  And grosser watching
two guys moon over each other.  What made it truly terrible was that I
didn't have anyone in my life that I was that serious about.

	"Guh?" I confirmed.

	"Yeah, I know it was stupid, but I swear, he HEARD it in my voice
and asked me who she was and everything," he explained.  If he could
decipher what I was trying to grunt, he had a real future as a dentist,
I thought.  "Anyway, he's coming into town tomorrow night, and I gotta
find a girlfriend I can show him."

	"Unh nnnuh oohhh aaahwuh," is what came out, meaning, 'I don't know
anyone,' with a subtext of 'You dolt, what am I gonna do, start calling
people when I can't even lift my arms?'

	"I had this idea, though, but it involves you.  Please, Brad, would
you help me out?" he asked.

	"Uh?" I asked, and he explained.

	To his credit, he didn't withhold care to try and influence my
decision.  On the other hand, at that point I was of the opinion that a
true friend would have humanely ended my suffering, so I felt entitled
to sulk for a while before I agreed to his stupid-assed plan.  At least
it mostly involved me sleeping....

	I don't know how he knew what he knew or the people he knew, but he
brought in a couple of guys who did drag or something, and they spent
the night working on the house, giving it that 'feminine touch.'

     Me too.  The first thing they did was feed me some Darvon.  I asked
why, and all they said was, "You'll see."  The second thing they did was
stuff me into a hot shower and wash everything, including the hair I'd
been growing out since our dorm days.  It felt good, in a remote sort of
way, especially with whoever-it-was running his fingers through my hair
with the hot water going.  I was squeaky clean when I got out and they
wrapped me into a clean set of sweats and back into bed.

     The third thing they did was hot wax my face.  I later found out
that this is an incredibly painful procedure, but the Darvon kicked in
and I really didn't feel much.  Or see much, or hear much, or think
much...  My eyebrows mostly disappeared at the same time, as did all my
chest and abdominal hair, my underarm hair, most of my arm hair, and all
the hair on my legs.  I have no idea how long this took; they were there
all night, and I kept waking up just long enough to get helped to the
toilet to urinate, back to bed, and then to drink a glass of something
and choke down some pills before I passed out again.

	I found out later that they had trimmed my hair and painted my
toenails, too, but I was completely unconscious for those evolutions.

     I got moved into Jim's bedroom after that, which I remember as
being amazingly cold for May in Texas and incredibly painful, even
though I was mostly carried.  I was shivering so hard I could barely see
straight, and they made it worse by taking off all my clothes.  By the
time they redressed me and slipped me under the covers of Jim's bed, I
thought I was going to die.  The electric blanket they'd put me on
helped, though, as did Jim pressing against me.  I thought about
protesting, since I wasn't gay, but I decided I'd wait until I got warm
again before I did, and then I passed out from exhaustion before I got
really warm.

     Jim woke me up later, and practically carried me into the bathroom
for another hot shower.	He did all the 'dirty work' this time, but
aside from a couple of asides about 'finally getting me all hot and wet'
which made me chuckle, he was all business.  I did smile at them,
though.  It hurt when I laughed.

     I got put into fresh clothing, and this time I noticed it was into
a nightgown, which I didn't remember either of us having one of before.
Jim explained that he'd spent some money on girl clothes for me, which
was gonna help support the fiction that I was his girlfriend.

     Yes, I WAS delusional and fevered at the time, or I never would
have agreed to this.  On the other hand, there was no way he could
expect me to do a whole lot more than sleep, which was alright with me.
Especially since I couldn't do anything else anyway.  And I did owe him.
And, I hate to admit, the long flannel was almost warmer than the
sweats, somehow.  It really felt nice, in the minutes I had of
consciousness during the day.

	Jim spent a lot of the day shopping with one of the 'girls' for my
new wardrobe, while Steve kept an eye on me like he'd done with Jim two
weeks before.  I slept, with occasional episode of consciousness that
were devoted to pissing, drinking, and despairing of ever living again.
Even a fifteen-second crying jag can exhaust you when you're not awake
more than five minutes at a time, and they did exhaust me, several
times.

	What eventually caught my attention was some sick bastard pounding
on the front door like he was going to bust it in.  I wanted to ignore
it, but it was too loud, and then I finally realized that it was Steve
who'd forgotten his key.  I said a lot of choice words, or thought them,
as I staggered to the front door, gasping for extra air as I held myself
up with soggy limbs.

	When I fell on the doorknob and pulled the door open by some
telekinetic feat I hadn't known I had in me... no one came in.  I wanted
to drop to the floor and collapse in a tantrum, but I knew if I did, I'd
die there.  So I looked outside.

	The light hurt, a lot.  I squinted into the glare, and saw someone
there - which at least meant I wasn't hallucinating or dreaming the
knocking - but I couldn't tell who it was.  "Huh?" I said, protesting
everything from me having to get up and Jim being gone, to the raise in
tuition and the fact that people were still hungry on Earth.

	"Oh, my God, Stephanie?" asked a deep male Texas voice.  "Let me
help you back into bed, where's that worthless son o'mine?"

	"Uh?"  Stephanie?  This was a whole new set of circumstances to
complain about, so I did.  "Rrrrr!"

	But the voice had already grabbed both my arms, shut the door, and
taken me back to bed, where it wrapped me in the covers and made sure
the electric blankets were where they could do some good.

	*Fuck all of you, I hate you,* I decided, and with that outburst of
emotion, I passed out again.

	When I woke up again, I heard Jim's voice in conversation.  I
screamed out as loud as I could, not quite as loud as a mouse breathing,
but Jim heard and came in to see what I wanted.  I pointed to the
bathroom, and he got me up and helped me in, setting me on the seat and
arranging me so I wouldn't piss on myself.

	When my bladder emptied, I remembered what had happened earlier.
"Izzuh yuh Dah?" I asked.  My throat hurt like it always did, like
someone had carefully sanded the lining off with a wire brush.

	"Yeah."  Jim shook his head.  "He got here about two hours before I
told him to, but he was so sorry about disturbing you it was almost
worth it."  He grinned evilly.

	"Ah."  That made some kind of sense.  I swallowed, which hurt, and
Jim held a straw up to my lips.  I sucked as hard as I could, which was
enough to get the liquid coming.  Water this time, though it wasn't
like I was picky.  When I had enough for the moment, I spit the straw
out.  He had been counting out pills, though, so I had to take the straw
back several times before I was really done.

	Jim put the cup back on the counter, and helped wipe me and pull my
clothes back together, which I noticed again was a nightgown.  That
reminded me of something.  "Uh!  J'm?"  He stopped and looked.
"Stef'nie?"

	"Ah..." he hesitated, and I glared at him.  Or tried to.  It hurt,
but then again, breathing hurt.  He relented, and explained quietly into
my ear, "Steve, Stephanie.  It just sort of came out on the phone a
couple of months ago, so it's kind of yours for now."

	Great.  I was irritated at him until I went to sleep again; maybe
thirty seconds max, as he brought me back to bed and piled covers on me.

	When I came to consciousness again, I didn't hear anyone.  I
managed to get to the bathroom by myself this time, though it was
ghastly.  So was taking my pills.  When I came back, I noticed that Jim
had refilled the drink boxes.  When he'd had it, I had set up several
containers with liquids, several feet of tubing, and little clamps, and
constructed something that worked a lot like the water bottle in a
hamster cage, except you had to hold the clip open to drink, and there
was a choice of beverages. I chose Gatorade, and drank until I couldn't
stand it any more, then let go of the clamp, threw the hose away from my
body and went back to sleep.

	I know; this all sounds boring.  It's a lot less boring, in a bad
way, when you hurt so bad that sometimes you can't see, and when it's
so hard to move you just want to let go and drop to the ground and die,
except you don't have the energy to let go.

	Anyway, the next time I woke up was kind of interesting, because it
was Jim waking me up.  By kissing me as he pulled me into a sitting
position.  He didn't usually wake me up like this...

	"Sweetheart?" he said.

	"Uh?" I said back, more than a little confused.  I wanted to say
something like 'I'm gonna tell Steve about this' but I couldn't find
enough of the words.  Which was a good thing, I discovered, as I saw
Jim's dad standing in the doorway watching me.  Everything crawled back
to me - usually you say 'rushed' but my brain was as tired out as the
rest of me - and I smiled at him when I figured things out.

	"Steffie?" Jim said, and I made a noise as soon as I remembered
that that was 'my' name for a while.  "Dad and I, we just got back from
dinner, and he wanted to meet you for a minute."

	"Hi," I managed towards Mister Macdonald.  Normally, it should have
come out as one note, or maybe two; this time it came out as a glissando
of about fifteen sixteenth notes.

	"Hello, Stephanie," he said, striding forward and holding out his
hand.  I held mine out too, and he caught it before I dropped it.  That
was good; it might have fallen off and broken.  "It's good to finally
meet the girl that caught my son's heart," he grinned.

     I just squeezed his hand and smiled until he gave my hand back.

	"Anyway," Jim commanded as he lay me back down, "we'll all talk
later if you're feeling better.  Steffie, do you need some help to the
bathroom?"

     I nodded twice, that being all I could manage, and blinked, and
when I could open my eyes again, the bedroom door was shut, Jim's dad
was nowhere to be seen, and Jim was half-carrying me into the bathroom
again.  "You're doing great," he assured me as I swallowed more pills
with his help.

	"I am?"  I really hadn't done much more than lie there, but that
was apparently all that was required, because Jim nodded at me,
grinning, and carried me back to bed.  "Good," I managed to get out
before I was buried under soft warm covers again and left alone in the
dark.

	The next thing that woke me up was Jim stuffing almost-hot towels
on one side of me before he crawled in the other side and pressed up
against me.  He felt warm, too, like he'd just taken a hot shower, so I
felt really good, and I managed to stretch out of my usual heat-
conserving fetal position before I went back to sleep.

     I woke up again in dark.  Apparently, Jim was tired, because he
didn't wake up with me.  I managed to dump all those towels - cool by
now - off the edge of the bed, because I was too weak to climb over
them, and get out of bed and go to the toilet by myself.  I started
getting cold and exhausted after I took my pills, though, so I crawled
back into bed, next to Jim again and went back to sleep.

	Next time it was in sunlight, and Jim was gone, though the bedroom
door was shut.  I managed by myself, and even got a look at myself in
the mirror.

	My sophomore goatee was completely gone, which I guess I should
have expected, but it was still a bit of a shock seeing it- well, NOT
seeing it, I guess.  And most of my eyebrows were gone too.  In fact, I
barely had any hair visible at all, except on the top, where it somehow
looked like more.  I guess that was the contrast.  But whoever-it-was
had trimmed it too, giving me a feminine set of bangs, and as I looked
at myself, I noticed I had a girl's scrunchie holding the rest of my
hair in a ponytail.

	The nightgown made me look feminine, too, including- I poked myself
experimentally, and the twin lumps on my chest were semi-solid, but had
no feeling.  I poked harder, and confirmed that I still had nerve
endings underneath the lumps somewhere, which was good... but under the
nightgown, you couldn't tell the things were fake at all.

	I looked like shit, of course, but it was a surprisingly feminine
shit.

	The daylight enabled me to see some of the stuff Jim had gotten,
too.  There was makeup and hair stuff in the bathroom, and some jewelry
too, and there were clothes in the bedroom, including some obviously
women's underwear kind of items.  *Weird,* I thought, because Jim was
the last person that I'd have expected to have such things...  Of
course, he'd bought it all, not 'acquired' it from girlfriends.

	My last thought before I went to sleep was imagining putting the
racier underwear on my car mirror like trophies...

	I made it up and down a few more times, feeling proud because I was
doing it myself again, but I didn't see Jim until he came to bed.  He
told me that he'd spent the day showing his dad the tourist spots, and
he was pretty tired and stressed, but he thought it was going okay.  He
explained this to me as we both showered together.

	I'd thought, dimly, that I was getting better, but it was a measure
of how bad I was still, that I didn't even consider the showering
situation until we were in bed together, me in another nightgown and him
in jammie pants, and even then I couldn't do more than chuckle sleepily
before I passed out again.  Still, I'd been awake almost twenty minutes,
which was a record for the week, I thought.

	I only had to go once during the night, and I managed to both go to
the toilet and drink myself full of Gatorade again without waking Jim
up.

	Sunday morning, I actually was awake in bed for several minutes
after my usual piss/take pills/drink lots routine.  I'd almost decided
to get up and see what was going on when, naturally, I fell asleep
again.

	I woke up after lunch, and smelled something that had to be food,
and I almost felt like eating it.  At least, the idea of tasting it was
no longer instantly nauseating, even after I drank something.

     I got up out of bed and noticed a pink robe hanging on the bedroom
door hook.  *S'not Jim's, or Steve's.  Must be 'Stephanie's,* I decided,
and slowly made my way over to the door.  I still had enough strength to
slip the robe on and open the door, so I did.  "Jim?" I called out,
getting irritated again at how my voice was bouncing all over the place.

	I couldn't see anyone from where I was, but a few seconds later Jim
called back, "I'll be right there, darling," and in a few seconds, he
was.  He was wearing a suit and tie, too.  He pushed me back into the
bedroom and shut the door.  "What's going on?" he asked quietly, putting
arms around me to support me.

	"I'm almost hungry," I whispered back, and was happy to find that
that put my voice back under control.  "What are you eating?"

	"Dad got some barbecue after we went to church..."  He rolled his
eyes at me.  "It's pretty good, though.  Want me to bring you some?"

	"Should I come out and meet him?" I asked back.  I guess, thinking
about it later, that I was still fevered.  But it made sense to me at
the time - I'm dressed like a girl so I can convince him that I'm Jim's
girlfriend, and I can't do that by just hiding in the room forever - and
a glance in the mirror told me I looked as good, or as bad, as I had
yesterday.  Feminine enough to look like I was halfway to death's door,
anyway, which was good enough.

	"Are you serious?" Jim asked me, holding me with both hands. "Are
you sure you can handle it?"

     I shrugged at him.  "We'll try it, and if not, I go back to bed and
sleep some more."

	"Okayyyy," he said skeptically, but he helped me outside and
towards the dining room.  Someone had cleared all our books off
the expensive Scandanavian table - while I was done with finals, Jim
still had to make his up if he didn't want F's for the entire semester -
and Jim's dad was sitting at it, gnawing on a rib.  "Dad," Jim said as
the older man stood up, "Steffie said she wanted to come out for a
minute, but I don't want her to stay up too long."

	"Wahl, that's great," his dad said, smiling broadly at both of us.
I smiled back, and Jim settled me into a chair placed very close to his.
"What can I get for you, missy?"

	I sort of wanted a rib, but my teeth hurt too much.  Everything
hurt too much.  Especially my stomach, all of a sudden, and I started to
salivate at the sight of real food.  I swallowed the mouthful of spit
and said, "Um, brisket please?"  My voice went everywhere again, and I
tried not to sigh.

	"That's a bad sore throat you got there," his dad said as the two
of them put stuff on a plate.  Not just brisket, but some cole slaw and
potato salad too.

	Jim busied himself cutting the brisket up into little pieces for
me, which made me want to laugh at him.  "Yeah, the doc said it's a
secondary infection, coming in with the mono," he explained.

	"I hate it," I commented in several octaves, which made Jim's dad
smile.

	"Wahl," he drawled at me, "I 'spect you'll be up an' around soon
enough, if you let Jim take care a'you an' keep restin' like you have
been."  It was astonishing, how much like a hick Jim's father sounded.
Jim didn't sound anything like that at all.

	Before I could work up a reply, Jim answered for me.  "Oh, she
will, Dad."  He put an arm around my shoulders and 'encouraged' me to
lean closer to him.  Leaning up against him was easier than sitting up,
anyway, so I just nodded and smiled.

	I had thoughts about feeding myself, like anyone over the age of
two, but this was not to be.  Jim started a steady stream of tiny bits
of meat and potato salad and slaw towards my mouth, and it was easier to
let him do it than it would have been to get him to stop.  Especially
since I couldn't remember the words to get him to stop, and he wasn't
giving me time to say them anyway.

	Jim and his dad were talking about stuff, but I wasn't really into
whatever it was, so I just ate what was put in my mouth and tried to
keep a pleasant expression on my face, just like any sorority girl
would.  It wasn't that hard; I guess my endorphins were coming back from
vacation.  I was glad they were back; I'd missed them.

     I ate half a slice of brisket and maybe two tablespoons of each of
the sides before dinner was over, but that was enough to satisfy my
cravings.  I thought that, with the lack of food in the last week, that
my stomach was probably the size of a golf ball by now, which made me
smile before I drifted off to sleep...

	Jim woke me up just enough to where I could manage half the work of
walking back to the bedroom - Jim did the rest - and then he helped me
off with the robe and back into bed.  I felt astonishingly full,
considering how little I'd eaten, but then again, this was the first
solid food I'd had in over a week.  I also felt tired, but that was
nothing new.  I smiled at him, and I was gonna say something, but I fell
asleep before I could get it out.

	Jim accidentally woke me up as he was getting ready for bed, and
then he decided the two of us should take another shower.  I didn't
mind; I could, just barely, smell myself, and it wasn't a nice smell.

	"So how's it going with him?" I asked as he was holding me from
behind and rinsing us both with the hose.  I was hanging on to the
showerhead, gripping with enough force to slightly deform an overripe
banana.

	"Not too bad," he said sourly.  "He's still an asshole, but I can
deal with it a bit better."  He sighed.  "I miss Steve."

	"I know," I agreed.  "Just don't show it.  How long is he gonna be
here?"

	"Oh God," Jim groaned.  "He SHOULD be gone after tomorrow.  I hope
and pray."  I nodded.  "Brad?" he whispered into my ear.  "I really owe
you big time for doing this."

     "Oh, sure," I agreed before I realized what he'd said.  One of
those sentences where agreeing meant you didn't agree, or something like
that.  "I mean, no, Jim, it's not a problem, really.  I mean, look at
everything you're doing for me."

	About then, I guess, it hit us both what it sort of looked like,
with him pressed up against me from behind and both of us all slick and
all that.  We laughed, but he didn't waste any time getting us both out
of there and me dressed again.  At least he stuffed me into clean
clothes.

	It was sort of weird, but I almost felt safer in the nightgown
around him.  Of course, I didn't have anything to worry about anyway - I
wasn't buff enough for him - but it was still sort of funny.  I didn't
mention this to him, though; he looked guilty enough.  I dunno why.

	I guess our conversation had sparked something, though, because
when we went back to the bed and he tucked me in, he pulled the phone
out and dialed and started talking to Steve - you could tell it was
someone intimate, and he only had the one boyfriend at the time.  He'd
shut the bedroom door and was talking quietly, so I didn't think he
could be overheard.  And hearing his voice drone on and on was
soooo soothing...

	The next day went basically like the previous two had.  Jim and his
father left fairly early in the morning, I had no idea why, and I spent
the day sleeping and doing my little bathroom routine by myself.  I felt
more energetic than I had in a long time; I even managed to sneak out of
the bedroom and raid the refrigerator for the hoped-for barbecue
leftovers.  I was exhausted and shaky when I finished, but I'd also
eaten two whole pieces of meat, AND walked all that way by myself.  And
back.

	Having mono makes you REALLY pathetic, in case you hadn't figured
that out by now.  You'll cry over things like finding a door
unexpectedly shut, and in the worst of it if you spend ten minutes a day
fully conscious you're overdoing it.  So these tiny signs that I was
heading back to normal were cause for rejoicing, which I did until I
passed out again.  Oh well...

	About four PM, I was on my way back from the bathroom, fully
intending to read a book for a while, when someone knocked at the
bedroom door.

	Like before, my thoughts didn't race like they would have normally;
they kind of sauntered casually.

     *Who's that?* was the first one.  Then, *Got to be Jim's dad.  Am I
decent?*  I was, for a girl.  *Oh.*  This was mildly embarrassing.  *Do
I say anything?*  Then I remembered I'd just flushed the toilet,
announcing to all and sundry that I was awake.  *Oh well, guess so.*  I
made my way over to the door and opened it.  It was Jim's dad, like I'd
deduced, which made me feel clever.  "Yeah?" I asked in a four note
arpeggio.

	"Hi, Stephanie," he smiled, which made me smile back.  He had a lot
of charm, even if he was a redneck asshole.  "Ah hope Ah'm not
disturbin' you?"

	"Not really," I told him.  "What's up?"

	"Well, Ah'm gonna be headin' back to the farm tomorrow mornin', and
I just wondered... you know me and Jim have had our differences, but we
seem to be gettin' back in tune as it were."  I nodded absently.  I had
no idea if this was what Jim thought, but I'd have to mention it the
next time I saw him.  "Anyway," Jim's father continued as I wondered
where Jim was, "I was thinkin' about takin' him out to a nice place for
dinner tonight, since it's mah last night in town, and since you know
him purty well, I was wonderin' if you thought it'd be a good ahdear?"

     I almost asked him what an 'ahdear' was, but caught it just in time
to save us both from embarrassment.  He looked like he was having enough
emotional strain anyway, at the moment.  I guessed that things like
'caring' didn't come easily to this man.  "Oh, um..."  I tried to think,
I really did, but all that came to mind was my hunger.  "Yeah, I think
he would," I smiled at him.

	He smiled back gratefully before he gently ordered me back to bed
and made sure I had everything I needed.  Finally he shut the door, and
#ding!# I passed out again.

	About an hour later, I'd rolled over and taken a mouthful or two of
water.  I was just about to go back to sleep when I realized that it was
going to take me a looooong time to get dressed if he was going to take
us out to a fancy restaurant!  "Shit," I asked the ceiling, "why do I do
these things to myself?"  The ceiling didn't answer, which was a relief;
I'd been half-worried, and half anticipating, hallucinations, but now
would be a really bad time to start having them.

	I pushed myself upright, and looked around the room.  I had enough
in the way of clothes, at least... and Austin just didn't get very
fancy, especially on Monday night.  Probably, one of the dresses would
do....

     I spent at least a couple of minutes sitting up with my eyes
closed, having a bout of REM sleep in which I was already dressed and I
was at some restaurant, with Jim behind me.  I think what knocked me out
of it was when I started to fall over, but it was enough to get me
moving.  I tortured myself by getting out of the bed and going into the
bathroom.

	A full shower or bath was beyond me, but I thought I could handle a
hospital style bath by myself, so I stripped down to the bra - I wasn't
sure I could get it off, or back on again - and knelt down in the tub
before I turned the water on.

	When I finished, I was a bit cleaner, somewhat warmer, and most
importantly, I didn't feel any more tired than I had when I started.
"Jeez, I'm almost well," I told myself as I carefully got out of the
tub.  It was a lie, but it made me feel better even as I recognized how
much of a lie it was.

	I wrapped a towel around me, girl-fashion, to get into the mood,
and wandered out to look at the girl clothes that had appeared in Jim's
bedroom.  There was rather a lot, and I hoped he hadn't spent too much
money.

	Part of me really wanted to say to hell with everything right then
and go back to bed, but I really did owe Jim, and this would help him
out, I knew.  So I flopped on the end of the bed and looked around
intently at the clothes that were strewn over the room.

	I looked and looked and looked, and I didn't realize I'd fallen
asleep again until I almost fell off the bed.  "Oh shit," I said softly,
because I'd lost another fifteen minutes too.  "Gotta go," I told
myself.

	It was easier to crawl across the floor than walk, so I crawled to
one of the larger piles and dug through it until I thought I had
collected something that looked 'nice' and feminine enough.  Or
somethings.  I had a white blouse, a long black skirt, and a black
sweater vest, plus a lace-infested under-dress or whatever it is.  You
need one of those, in case... I have no idea why you need one, but you
do.  And a pack of pantyhose.

	I'd watched my mom get dressed enough times for work that I knew
what to do with everything, and even the stupid reversed buttons didn't
confuse me too badly.  But it seemed to take forever and be REALLY hard,
especially the damned pantyhose, and I was tempted to just lie down
right there in the floor and rest...

	"Nooooooooooooo," I moaned as I pushed off and went scrabbling for
shoes.  The very first thing I found was a pair of black sandals, and I
knew black shoes went with black clothes, so I tried them on.  They fit,
which was mildly disturbing, but it was gonna be a lot easier to explain
than the shoes not fitting.

	That was all I could think of for the clothing; next was...
"Makeup, ugh."  That meant I had to go into the bathroom again, and
worse, stand up.  I crawled back over to the bed and used it to climb
upright again.

     Going into the bathroom showed me a ghastly amount of stuff, much
of which I had no earthly idea what it was for.  But, again, I'd watched
my mom enough times to pick out some foundation, and some eyeliner, and
mascara, and lipstick, and eyeshadow, which was all I had time for
before the spots in my eyes threatened to grow together and knock me out
completely.

	Five minutes of resting my chin on the toilet seat restored me
enough to where I remembered what I had to do.  I looked up at the
bathroom mirror, high high above me, and shook my head.  "No way."

     But, I realized I was almost sitting on a small table, and one that
was low enough to the floor that I didn't have to get up.  All I needed
to do was to shut the lid.  And to find a mirror, and I thought I
remembered one.  On the vanity.  "Oh, Lord, give me strength..."

	I made it upright long enough to find the mirror and make a semi-
graceful landing, but then I had to rest again.  "This is stupid," I
commented to the world at large, but that was sort of a comment on the
whole damn thing, from Jim having to come out when he got to college all
the way to me sitting on the bathroom floor.  It was, too, but I
realized that I really didn't have time to get existential right then,
so I filed the idea away for later discussion and got to work when I was
strong enough.

	Foundation was easy; just smear it evenly over your face until it's
all one color.  I could even brace my back against the tub for most of
it, which made it less tiring.

	The eyes were next, and I had to do some serious thinking to
remember which part to do first, but finally I decided on liner.  After
a bit of experimentation - I'd had no idea my hands shook that much - I
figured out that if I put the mirror flat on the toilet lid, rested my
hand on the lid, and put my eye right over the mirror, that I could line
the top lid without too many problems.  I know it went on kind of dark,
but I figured I could smudge it out later.

	The shadow was next, and that was easy.  I'd just figured out which
way the stupid curved mascara brush was supposed to line up with my
eyelid when someone opened the bedroom door.  "Jim?" I squeaked,
somewhere above high C.	I really hoped it was him...

     "Yeah?" Jim called back, and I sighed in relief.

     "I'm in the ba-"

     "What the hell?" he said as he came in the bathroom.

     "Your dad, he wanted to take us out to dinner," I explained.  "So I
had to get ready, and..."  I stopped talking when he walked out.

	I thought about it, and finally realized that we were probably
running late and that he had to start changing himself, so I went back
to gently daubing the black goo into my eyelashes.  Toilet paper worked
pretty well to get rid of mistakes; some of the Q tips that Jim used to
clean his ears worked even better.  I could just reach the box by his
sink without having to get up.

     I'd finally gotten my eyes looking even on both sides and halfway
decent, when Jim called, "Stephanie?"  It wasn't too hard to remember
that I was supposed to answer to that, dressed like I was and doing what
I was doing, so I answered as soon as I could.  Jim came into the
bathroom and helped me up and back into the bedroom without really
asking me if I wanted the help.  The skirt was really tight; I could
only take little baby steps after I pulled it back down where it was
supposed to be.  I guess that was a good thing.

	Jim's father was there, shaking his head.  "Steffie," Jim said
sternly, but his dad interrupted.

	"Jim, when I axed her," which confused me a lot.  "I axed her about
you an' me goin' ayout.  I didn't say nothin' about takin' her to dinner
with us.  No offense," he nodded at me.  "But you're way too sick to be
out of bed, Stephanie."

	Jim put me on the bed and everyone looked at me.

	"Well..."  I felt really stupid now.  "I just sort of assumed you
wanted me to go with you, and I am feeling a lot better than I was,
really."  If you tried to write down what my voice sounded like when I
said this, you'd need four sheets of music paper and a tape recorder; I
was hitting sixty-fourth notes in four octaves, and a few times I would
swear I got two notes out at the same time, which was supposed to be
impossible.  "I just sound awful," I added, which was wholly and
completely true.  "And I'm hungry.  And I'm almost ready..."

	We had a discussion, which made me more tired than I really needed,
before they both agreed I could come along.  I was starting to get
irritated with Jim; I mean, what did he want me to do, just lay in his
bed like a life-sized blowup doll?  And I guess that helped, because
Jim's father laughed and told him he'd better do what the 'little lady'
said before she (me) got upset.  That bothered Jim, and it would have
bothered me too, except I'd just spent an hour trying my damnedest to
look just like a little lady, and just for Jim's sake, to go out to a
stupid dinner that no one wanted me to go to, and it just seemed so
damned futile that I started to sob before I could stop myself, and that
settled the issue right then.  I got to go, and Jim's dad departed the
bedroom quickly.

	Jim dabbed at my eyes with a tissue while I hoped furiously that I
hadn't ruined the best makeup job of my life.  'Twas also the only
makeup job of my life, but it was the principle of the thing that had me
upset.

	Finally, I got calmed down and cleaned up, I guess, because Jim
stopped wiping.  "I guess, all you need to do is your hair.  And the
rest of your makeup," he said.

	"Yeah," I admitted.  "Can you help with that?"  I didn't know how
to make my hair go, and if he did it, I wouldn't have to stand in front
of the mirror for a while, the operative and painful word being 'stand.'
And I had no idea what I'd missed on the makeup.

     He agreed, and I spent a while with him brushing blush over my
cheeks, and then lining my lips with lipstick.  I felt kind of dumb,
forgetting lipstick.  Then there were several painful minutes while he
did I-don't-know-what to my hair, using a brush and a pick and some
clips, and then he grinned at me and said, "Done!"

	"Can I see?"  He hauled me in front of the mirror - well, I walked
by myself this time; I just needed help getting off the bed - and I
looked.

     If you hadn't known I was sick, it was pretty obvious, because...
well, I just looked horribly sick.  But, again, like a horribly sick
GIRL, and this time I looked like a horribly sick girl who had made a
serious effort to look nice and well for whatever reason.

	This was way too complicated a visual message for me to figure out
in an hour or less at my limited brain capacity, so I just looked at the
hair and makeup.  They both looked as good as a normal girl would have
done, at least to me.  My hair looked good pinned up like it was, and
the makeup wasn't too garish.  The eyes, I noticed particularly, looked
really good...

	Jim came back in and started attaching jewelry to me, much faster
than I could have managed, and then showed me myself again.  "Perfect!"

     I nodded, and so he put me on the bed to rest until he got ready,
which I did.  Getting ready must've taken more out of me than I thought,
because it seemed like I'd just barely closed my eyes when he was
pulling me up and saying, "I thought you wanted to go out so bad."

	"I do, I do!" I protested, and let him help me to my feet.  "Lemme
look at both of us," I said, and he led us both over to the mirror
again.  I hadn't messed anything up, and the two of us made a nice
looking couple, especially since he was wearing a black sports coat and
tie, which matched my outfit.  I smiled at the reflection, or him, or
something, and he smiled back before he took us out front.

	Jim made sure I was holding on to his arm as we walked out to the
car, which was not something I was going to object to.  I realized that
I probably didn't want to run into anyone we knew, but that was about
the time we were pulling out of the parking lot, so it was too late
already.  I shrugged, and then reverted to instinct, which meant sleep.

	"Steffie!" someone barked at me, which woke me up.  I looked
around, blinking, and Jim was on the right side, beckoning me out.  I
slid out and he helped me out and up, and smiled at the valet.  I smiled
too, wondering where in the hell we were, but I didn't see a sign before
Jim whisked me in.  I had no real idea what to do, so I consciously
decided I would act like a brainless sorority girl and let Jim make all
the decisions.  All I had to do was stay conscious, and smile.

     It worked, I guess.  We had to wait for several minutes in the
lobby before we got taken back to a table, and then I got wedged into a
corner which supported me on both sides, and I was right next to Jim.
And nobody really looked at me too much, and if they looked at me at
all, I'd smile at them and they would smile back.  I guess that was
good.

     Everyone asked if I was okay - the hostess, the waiter, everybody -
and Jim kept explaining it while I kept smiling vaguely.  I got a lot of
sympathetic looks, which was okay with me, and they were really nice to
me when Jim ordered some kind of broiled fish for me.

	Dinner was a lot like Sunday lunch had been, except I was using my
own utensils this time, and of course I was dressed a lot nicer.  Jim
and his dad talked about stuff I could not be bothered to try and
comprehend, so I concentrated on eating and looking feminine.  That
pretty much translated into 'Eat daintily' and smiling a lot.  Luckily,
my brain could handle that for almost the entire meal.  And the fish was
pretty soft, too, so it didn't take a lot of effort to cut up and eat.

	Jim's dad started asking me questions, about my major and stuff,
and so I lied my ass off.  Luckily, I was Plan 2, which meant I could
talk about the English parts of the curriculum and leave the engineering
out of it entirely.  And, of course, talking about something I was
actually taking made it a whole lot easier to lie.

	Eventually, Jim finished stuffing his face, and he put his arm
on the back of my chair.  I'd been done for a while, so I leaned against
him and took little tastes of his apple pie.  It was good pie, and I was
sort of sorry I'd had fish instead of a dessert.

	Eventually, Jim tapped me on the shoulder, and when I looked up at
him, he smiled and bent his head down.	*Oh,* I realized as he kissed
me, *he wants to kiss me?*  But it was too late, of course.  I made sure
I smiled when he pulled away, though, because I was sure his dad was
watching.  "Ready to go?" he asked, and I nodded, and then we got into
the process of getting me up.  "Don't forget your purse," he said as he
handed the black leather item to me, which confused me since I didn't
remember bringing it.  By the time I decided not to worry about it, we
were at the front again.  "Do you want to go freshen up before we
leave?" he asked.

	I sort of had to go pee again, so I nodded before I really thought
about it.  I really thought about it when Jim had dropped me off in
front of a door that said 'Ladies,' but by then it was too late, and I
had a bunch of women coming up behind me, so I went the only way I could
go and pushed the door open.

     It was a bathroom.  The only difference I could see was no urinals.
And, of course, it had women in it instead of men.  Some of them were
talking, but some of them weren't, which was good, since I didn't feel
like a conversation right then.  I found a stall, managed to find the
appropriate organ, sit, and urinate before I fainted or exploded, which
was a good thing.

	A minute or so after I finished, I realized I had to leave
eventually, and it would be best if I got out while I still had a ride,
as it were.  So I pulled the pantyhose back up and wiggled everything
around until I thought it was okay again, flushed the toilet, and came
out.

	I was just going to walk out, but some woman started to wash her
hands, which reminded me to wash mine, and then when I was washing, I
noticed that all my lipstick had disappeared except for a ring around
the outer edge.  I dried my hands and then rummaged in the purse until I
found the lipstick and then carefully reapplied it.

	When I came out, finally, both Jim and his father were standing
around waiting.  I started to say 'Sorry,' but Jim's father came out
with, "We thought you might have got lost in there!"  And chuckled at
his own 'humor.'  I just smiled politely at him and latched myself onto
Jim again.

	We went home after that, and Jim's dad said some nice things before
he left for his hotel room.

	"Oh, my God, you were fantastic tonight," Jim said in admiration.
I wrapped my arms around him in a hug, because I was tired of standing
up, and I almost went to sleep right there.  He took me into the
bedroom, which woke me up, and he kept wanting to ask me questions, but
I was so tired, it was all I could do to remove the clothing and jewelry
and get dressed in a clean nightgown.  Jim un-did the hair and makeup
for me, and then I was out.

	The next morning, Jim and I woke up with his alarm, which didn't
make either of us pleased, but he shut it up quickly enough.  I was
going to go back to sleep, but Jim put his arm around me and said, "God,
you were fantastic last night."

	"Thanks," I said muzzily.  I wasn't expecting him to kiss me again,
but I guess that was all he wanted to do, because after he did, he let
go and lay back down in the bed.  This time, though, he had his arm
around my waist.

	I thought about saying something, but once again, before I could
decide whether I should or not, I went back to sleep.

	The next time I woke up, Jim was gone.	I thought hard about
changing back into 'me,' but decided that I'd wait until I got the
all-clear from Jim that his dad was back in BFE Texas.  It'd really suck
to blow it now, I thought.

	I was hungry again, though, so after I'd relieved myself and taken
my pills and drunk a lot of Gatorade, I put the pink robe on and slowly
trudged into the kitchen and towards the refrigerator.  The barbecue was
gone, and I was debating whether to try heating something frozen or just
go back to bed when there was a knocking at the door.

	"Man, I knew it," I smirked as I wandered towards the front door.