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  • The Ballad of Jaimie and Vera Ch. 02

The Ballad of Jaimie and Vera Ch. 02

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And that was the status quo. We took some holiday vacations together. I met her folks and she met mine, but as far as they knew we were just friends. Sometimes, she or I would have a boyfriend. Rarely at the same time. Sometimes, she or I had a girlfriend. Only once did we manage a foursome. Male female female female. It wasn't that great. But, no matter who we were "with", we always stayed friends and we rarely stopped our little side thing for very long. Vera was the only one I really pulled all the kinks out for, and she with me.

Suddenly, it was my senior year. I was right on course to graduate with a degree in communications, but pretty much all of my time outside of class was focused on sex. And then I met Glenn.

Glenn was the first guy I'd met in college that seemed like a man. I even refused to call him my boyfriend, preferring the self-invented "manfriend". The first time he and Vera met they didn't get along, so I kept those worlds separate. With difficulty. As I felt graduation drawing near, and the crush of not just a job, but a real world career and a life outside of college bearing down on me, I began to think about where I wanted to be.

Glenn certainly ticked off all the boxes. Handsome? Check. Courteous? Check. Kind? Check. I could go on. The only problem I'd ever had with him was that he never seemed receptive to any out of the box thinking when it came to the bedroom, but I also felt like maybe what I'd been having with Vera for three years was a college phase, and that I needed to grow up. I didn't know how to say that to her though, so I chickened out.

When I told her that I thought he might be the one, she flipped out. We had a huge fight. Massive. She destroyed half of her kitchen. I kept trying to smooth her ruffled feathers but after an hour it seemed hopeless and, in a moment of weakness, I started yelling back. We called each other the worst kinds of names, and when I stormed out of her apartment, I really thought I'd seen her for the last time.

"Jaimie? Is that you?". Omg, it's really her. I don't immediately respond. I can't respond. Why is Vera here? The only words I can think of are all the awful, angry things I said to her before I walked out the door. Words that I've wished a thousand times I could take back. Bitch. Callous. Coward. So many more, and they just float around inside my head like a horde of locusts, a swarm of reminders of the way I treated her. It had been three long, mostly lonely years.

Of course, I had forgiven her almost immediately for the things she'd said about me. She'd been right. It was an alarming wake up call, but she wasn't wrong when she called me cloying and needy. I'd taken what she'd said to heart and tried harder to be my own person, but I never felt like I deserved forgiveness for the way I left things with her.

We just stare across the desk for a moment, partly out of the unexpected shock, and partly from the awkwardness, but then Vera's eyes well up. And then I'm crying, and then she's crying. And then she's coming around the desk.

And then she's in my arms again.

I sob on her shoulder almost incoherently, begging her for forgiveness. I'm not even really listening to her at first, but then what she's saying starts to get through my own warblings. She's saying the same thing. We back our heads out enough to look at each other again, though my arms stay around her sides and hers around mine.

"Sweet! Are you two gonna make out?"

"Fuck off, Carl!" There is a long moment of quiet when we realize we'd said it together. Carl raises his hands and slowly backs out the door. We stare angrily until he's finally gone before I lead her off to the womens room, but after that the crying starts again.

"Vera, I'm so sorry..."

"I was such a bitch..."

"...shouldn't have put you in that position..."

"...wanted you more than I was willing to admit..."

"...Glenn was so not worth losing you..."

"...tried to stand in your way..."

"...totally unfair..."

Eventually, our foreheads touch, and we just stand there holding each other.

"You were right, by the way..."

"...started to think about it later..."

"...felt so ashamed. I had no right..."

"...No, you had every right. I was dependant on you..."

And on and on. When that peters out, I stare at the floor for a long time.

"Vera, will you ever forgive me?"

"What?! Of course," she exclaims, looking horrified. "I'm the one that should be begging, J!"

"Don't be stupid. It never looked good on you."

It's so wonderful to hear her chuckle. "You're right. Smart suits my complexion so much better."

"And what's with this 'J' crap? Who was the one who called that lazy?"

"I... have had to make peace with the fact that sometimes I take an unnecessarily firm on dumb things, and I'm learning to let go of that."

"Personal growth!"

Suddenly, the bathroom door slams open, and Kara storms in. "What the fuck, Jaimie?! The phone has been ringing for like, forever!"

Vera half steps in front of me, open palms and arms raised. "I'm so sorry, this is my fault..."

"We're old friends, and it's been a really, really long time," I say on top of her.

"SHUT UP!" She points at me "You, get back on the phone!" Then she points to Vera. "You, stop interrupting her or we'll cancel your contract! You think there aren't a dozen IT firms dying for our business? Reconnect on your own goddamn time!" And just like that, she flies out the door.

"Vera, I'm so sorry, but I've gotta go!"

"Can we get some coffee sometime? To catch up?"

"God, I would love that!"

She reaches into her pocket and hands me one of her business cards. Her cell phone number is at the bottom.

The rest of my day goes by in a blur of halfhearted perkiness and full-on reminiscence. I can't stop daydreaming about our time together, and how much it meant to me. In my head, I begin to practice things I'm going to tell her.

When I go home that night, I think about calling her right away. I can't decide if that's desperate. On the one hand, I don't need to make the coffee date, or whatever it's going to be, for tonight. I could suggest next Tuesday. Or Monday.. That would seem like I was eager but not too eager. On the other hand, Vera had always been more of a loose cannon. Waiting a week and suggesting coffee right then was more her style.

Eventually, I decide that her style is her style, and mine was mine. I call her around 7, after having killed about a half a bottle of wine. For courage.

"Hello?"

"Vera? It's Jaimie!"

"Oh god, I'm so glad you called. Thank you for not waiting a week like some too cool for school jackass."

"Ha!" It's still sooooo good to hear her voice.

"What was with that bitch?"

"Kara? That's just a normal Wednesday for her."

"Good god. I don't envy you."

"So, uh..."

"Coffee! Right!"

"Can we do it like next Tuesday?"

"Mmmm, busy Tuesday. Can we do it Monday?"

I turn to stare at my completely empty calendar, and make the pretense of pausing to check it closely. "Mmmmmmmonday sounds excellent!"

"Ok! Awesome! Listen, I'm still at work, so I've gotta let you go, but I'm so glad we ran into each other!"

"Ohmygod, me too. I'll talk to you Monday!"

"Ok!"

I slump down on the couch, exhausted. Some time after I finished the bottom half of the bottle of wine, I was flipping through the channels and what should be on TV but that awful Lifetime Movie of the week with the daughter that had AIDS. I stayed up and watched the whole thing. I cried. The movie was sad too.

The next morning comes way too soon. I'd fallen asleep on the couch again. I reach over for my purse to grab my phone to see what time it was and knock the whole thing over. The sad contents of my life spill out all over the floor. I run my hand through the pile, sifting for my phone, when I come upon a little white and pink sheet of paper. Oh, my lottery ticket. Eventually, I find my phone, and yes, I'm super late again. Shower, but still no hot water. Still no Post-It notes. Still no good magnets. Still no sugar. Vera's reentry into my orbit completely wiped out any other thoughts last night. As I finally get myself together and pull together the stray innards of my purse, I decide to check the lottery numbers. I think the drawing had been on Monday.

Trying to check lottery numbers is maddening. The tickets always print them out lowest to highest, but the numbers are drawn in whatever order they're drawn in. I match one number, and then another. Two. Oh, two and the powerball! That's something! No, It's the powerball and three numbers. The powerball and...

The powerball and...

The powerball and...

...

I don't know when I fell backwards onto the couch. In one hand, I hold the ticket, and up next to it I hold my phone. I look at one, and then the other. Then back. Then back again. This is a joke. Am I still drunk? Are these the right numbers? Where else can I check these numbers? Frantically, I leap across the room and turn on my computer. It takes FOREVER to boot, and by the time I get Chrome up and running, I'm literally saying "c'mon c'mon c'mon" over and over out loud.

I pull up the powerball page, and there, right smack in the middle of the screen, in giant black letters inside of little white circles, are the numbers I got assigned at random when I bought this ticket on a whim. One unclaimed winner.

Then I call in sick.

I sit there on the couch for an hour, doing nothing. I just sit, wide eyed, staring at the wall. Everything is about to change. I am on the precipice. I have no idea what is waiting for me at the bottom, but I desperately want to jump. I want to change things. My life has been missing something for a long time. It had been hard to admit, and I still didn't have a good handle on what that void meant, but now I could see that maybe there was a path to fixing it for myself.

I immediately threw out the adage that I couldn't buy happiness. Clearly, I could do something. I could do little things, enhancing things. Small things that make me feel better about myself. I start thinking about shoes or clothes, and that seems too small. I'll have a lifetime and enough money to keep up with three lifetimes of fashion trends. I need to think bigger. What could I add? Having Vera back in my life seems like a great start, but I sincerely doubt this money will affect her or my friendship with her.

When I really think about it, it seems like the void in my life has been sexual. Sure, I've had partners since Glenn. I'd never referred to any of them as lovers, oddly enough. Part of me thinks that's significant. Even sex with Vera, the best sex of my life, had been missing something after that first time. It wasn't that she didn't do enough, or didn't pay enough attention to me. It was something in me. So I thought about what I wanted.

I think about some of the other people I'd been with. Mostly guys, but a few girls here and there. Suddenly, out of nowhere, I remember this one guy I'd been with. His name was Jevon. He was a brother, and he was so proud of his dick. He spent the whole date preening and talking up his game, and when we got in the bedroom, he delivered on most his promises. The sex itself wasn't great. Heck, he wasn't even the biggest guy I'd ever been with. What stuck with me was the way his face lit up when he stuck it in me. The pride. He loved doing that to girls. I remember being so jealous. No matter how fantastic my tits are, the shock of seeing them the first time wears off fast, but a cock. I squirmed every time he brought it home, and he soaked that response up like a sponge.

Suddenly, my wine glass shatters in my hand. I curse as I realize I've gotten a bit of wine on the carpet, and that starts up a little tally in my head of all the things that are damaged in my apartment that will count against my safety deposit. Then I realize that doesn't matter. I could buy all the buildings on this block and not dent what I've just won. But I am no less shocked when I realized that the reason I broke that glass was because I was thinking about how great it would be to have a penis.

I sit up straight and spin around. I have that feeling that everyone is staring at me. Idiot, you're home alone in your own apartment. Still, everyone will stare. Could I hide it? I begin to run through my skirts and pants in my head for a moment before I yell "Stop!"

"What are we worried about here? The some people won't accept it? People already give me shit for being 'plus sized.' If they can't handle it, fuck them!'"

As far as I'm concerned, the idea that some people would be appalled seems like all the more reason to do it. I am my own person, and have been since the day I broke up with Vera.

Oh Christ, Vera. What would she think?! Her opinion matters more to me than just about anything else.

"No. Calm down, Jaimie. First of all, Vera will be the first one to tell you that you shouldn't do something, or not do something, because of what other people think. You got that from her. Second of all, if she doesn't like it, so what? We don't go back to being those kinds of friends."

"Third, you know damn well she'd be in your corner." My sudden shifts in and out of the third person seem a mite alarming, but I let it slide without further comment. I need more wine.

The following morning, I realized I'd been going at this all wrong. I needed to worry about money stuff first. I call out of work again, get all dolled up, and fly over to a rival law firm. At first I have trouble getting anyone's attention, but as soon as I begin waving around my winning 450 million dollar ticket, I get it. I spend the rest of the day working with a cute attorney as he gets in contact with a slew of people. Accountant, investment bankers, trust lawyers. It's like a parade. By the end of the day, I have a tight little group of people behind me that I feel comfortable with, and an appointment with a highly recommended, and very discreet, plastic surgeon for Monday.

The cat and I order takeout for every meal for the rest of the weekend. Part of me really wants to reschedule with Vera and tell her, but Monday has this odd feeling of rightness that I don't want to override. So it's just the two of us, gorging ourselves on chinese, italian, thai, and then more chinese.

"Come again?" Dr Halpig panics as he scurries for a napkin to sop up the coffee he spat all over his desk.

"I'm here because I want to have a penis."

"And you...aren't going to continue on with the other procedures to become a man?"

"No. I don't want to become a man. I love being, and want to remain, a woman. I just also want a penis." Dr Halpig coughs again, but it doesn't feel like he's stalling to deflect me.

"Ok. Normally, during sexual reassignment surgery, there's a long ramp up of other procedures like jaw shaving, liposuction, etc. They're mostly for cosmetic effect, but they also delay the process so that the patient can be sure this is the change they want. The early procedures are completely reversible, but as you get closer to the actual sexual reassignment surgery, it becomes more and more permanent. You aren't interested in that. You just want a penis." He didn't end the sentence on an upturn like a question, but I respond like he did anyway.

"That's correct."

"Do you want testes?" Now it's my turn to stumble. "Ostensibly, you want this for sex?" I nod. "The testes produce only a minor of the material that goes in the ejaculate, but with stem cells from a prostate, we can create a hybrid organ that will suffice. Alternately, there are other ways to repurpose some of your existing organs for that-"

"No! I want to keep as much of my vagina intact as possible."

He pauses, considering. "Well, the clitoris is usually repurposed to provide the nerve cluster for the glans penis, so that's out. On the plus side, the clitoris contains more than twice the nerve endings, so with a little bit of work on my end, you're going to have a very satisfying experience. Adding testes will take up a tiny bit of real estate just above where your urethral opening is now. Do you want to have the urethral opening moved to the penis?"

I stare at him for a minute, confused. "Oh! Yes! I want to urinate from the penis."

"Ok. Assuming we can find the right donor, you should be able to keep everything else intact. We'll come back to the donor and dimensions later."

"Could I get pregnant?"

Dr. Halpig immediately nodded. "Absolutely. If that should happen, I could put you in contact with a similarly discrete ob/gyn office. But to answer your question more directly, no part of the internal function of the vagina would be changed."

"Now, the recovery from a procedure like this will be lengthy. You'll need around the clock help from a nurse for the first week. After that, you'll have maybe another three weeks of recovery and therapy before you'll be able to get around on your own. You'll be on a cocktail of painkillers, testosterone, steroids, and, probably some human growth hormone. You'll need someone to help you around and such, though it doesn't need to be a nurse after the first week. We can provide assistance if there's no one you'd feel comfortable asking..."

At that, I lean back and think.

Vera is facing the other direction as I approach. I plop down in a seat across from her. As soon as she hears me, though, she spins around and says "Oh hell no!" We both bolt up, and this time, the hug brings such a sense of overwhelming relief that I think we were relying on each other to stay upright. Vera is in heeled boots, dark jeans, and a sharp black leather jacket over a white button down blouse. A classic look for her, but it feels fresh with her slightly modified haircut. I feel like I'd dressed appropriately. I was wearing her black boots, black slacks, a salt and pepper jacket with a red scarf over a red t-shirt.

"God I missed you," I say. It feels good to admit it. Cathartic.

"I missed you too, and I'm not afraid to say it." I don't want the hug to end. I'm a little rusty on the proper kissing protocol for ex-girlfriends, but Vera handles it for me as she turns to flag the waitress. We sit back down while Vera orders some incomprehensible jargon drink. I order black coffee.

"You look amazing," Vera says as soon as we were alone again. I'd shed the jacket and scarf. It wasn't really cold enough to warrant them, but I liked the look.

"I might have spent a little while getting ready for this," I say dismissively.

"Jaimie, I really need to apologize again, and no interrupting," she says, wagging a finger at me. "You were just trying to do right by me, and I was still as full of insecurities as I was the day we started our little thing. I took all of that out on you."

"We were both-"

"No." She pauses, considering, and then continues. "I mean, we both had some issues to work out, and we didn't have the kind of healthy relationship where growth was prized, but I set those ground rules, and I'm the one that lost it." I nod. She's right.

She asks about Glenn. I tell her all about how great it was at first, but that it got stale quickly after graduation. I tell her about how he left me and the irony of being told I wasn't adventurous enough for him. She seemed especially sad to hear how low and alone I was after that, like she felt that she should have been there. I talk a little about my job, and that I am going nowhere. I don't mention the lottery. It feels like the kind of thing I should be saving until she and I feel more like an us, no matter the status.

I talk about the people I'd been with. I even talked a little about the void. I hadn't meant to say anything about that, but it popped out. Talking to her is just as easy as it ever was. She asks questions about it, but doesn't pry.

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