Even my dreams seemed to be confusing, disjointed, and very disturbing. I had dreamt that I was laying in bed, the whispered sound of another voice speaking to me, trying to reach out towards me.
"Where am I? Who...am I?" It seemed to ask.
I wanted to open my eyes, but couldn't. And yet, in the dream when I was able to do so, I found myself looking down at myself. I was Faye, or rather she was me.
"Faye? Faye? Can you hear me?" I asked, seeking...searching, but there was only darkness now, the echo of her voice fading off into the distance, the sound of my own name being called as it did.
"Howard! Howard! How...ard!"
I woke up, was it dream? It seemed so real, so bizarre. I could still hear the sound of my name being called, jumping almost three feet off the bed when the phone rang.
"Hello?" I gasped sounding like I'd just been out running.
It was the hospital calling. I had left instructions to be notified the moment there was any change, any change at all.
"Just wanted to let you know," the Doctor began. "Though he is still comatose, there are some good signs that he may be coming out of it sooner than later. There was finger movement early on this morning. And though there hasn't been anything else since then, that's a really good sign. As I had said before, the likelihood of Howard eventually waking up is only a matter of time now. However...I do like to be cautious in these instances. Until Howard does have full consciousness, we won't know the extent of any additional complications, if any...until then."
I had hung up the phone after that, knowing that I had a lot of research to do for one thing. Plus, I still needed to pick up my belongings for another. I also wanted to drop by the hospital and check how I was doing first-hand myself. It was going to be a very busy day. I hurriedly dressed, called a cab, and went down to the compound yard where my totaled car was still being held. I had in fact remembered to wrap my hand, almost entirely, making it appear as though it had been hurt in the accident. Signing for my luggage, I was relieved when the guy behind the counter didn't question the odd looking signature, simply looking at my ID and accepting that. What he brought out to me however wasn't complete. I was missing what appeared to be a whole lot of stuff.
"I'm missing an entire bag!" I explained. About the only intact piece of luggage was a small carry on, which had held more of my cosmetics. Little good that would do me, and another duffle bag that at least held a few other things which appeared I could use was about all there was. Inside that was another pair of jeans, couple of tees, and another pleated skirt. Most of my underwear and other personal items were missing.
"Sorry, we gathered up what we could. But there was a lot of wind and such blowing things about. And as far as seeing any other luggage, well...unless we missed it, or unless someone else came along and found it...this is all we managed to salvage."
I now knew I'd have to do some shopping, though the thought of having to go out and buy up a bunch of women's intimate apparel wasn't very exciting to me. I still wasn't used to the idea of having to wear a bra as it was, let alone the still strange (giddy) sensation I still got when slipping on a pair of women's panties. Neither of which I was wearing now. And which I was suddenly made aware of as the fat, bald-headed, unkempt, unshaven man behind the counter stood glaring at me, forcing me to take stock of myself. I quickly looked down, twin points too revealing pressing against the thin material of the borrowed tee shirt I had on.
I couldn't believe I was actually offended at some guy staring at my tits. But I was. I soon after left, taking with me what had survived the accident, which still wasn't all that much as I saw it, wondering then if Faye had actually packed that light, though it certainly hadn't felt like it when I loaded the trunk of my car after picking her up from the airport. A lot of it really was missing.
My next stop of course was the hospital. And though I couldn't stay long having left the meter running on the cab, I wanted to drop by long enough to check on things myself. As I'd already been told, I was still resting comfortably, or so it seemed. Ensuring no one was about, I leaned over, whispering. "Faye? It's me...Howard. Are you in there? Can you hear me Faye? Can you hear me?" I waited for some sign of recognition, anything. But there was nothing. Once again stopping by the nurses' station, I left the same instructions I had left with them before. To call me at the sign of any change, no matter how slight or insignificant. I returned home knowing that I now had even more work to do. Research on the computer to see if there was anyone else who had experienced the same phenomenon that I was. IF there was anything out there at all on the subject.
And the second thing of course. I needed to buy a whole bunch of new underwear.
**
I signed on my computer, and luckily for me...I knew the password of course. I then Googled everything and anything that was even remotely related. Most of the things really having nothing to do with what I was looking for, though one or two others hinting at something that possibly could have. Until I realized after reading further, that most of that was more mythic in nature, past beliefs, and somewhat religious symbolisms. I was having very if little luck until I stumbled across a rather bizarre link, something about it just catching my eye, causing me to click on it and read further. That led me to a blog, someone named "Chris Smith," who had set up some sort of a web-site for men and women both who all appeared to have basically one thing in common. Gender identity confusion of one kind or another. Though most of what I read was pretty much along the lines of what you'd expect to find. Men and women both either going through the process of having a sex-change, or thinking about it. Not exactly what I was looking for or hoping to find, until I followed another small link, as part of Chris's biography. That one caused me to hold my breath for a moment. There was a small quote beneath his name. It read. "He is me...and then. Who am I?" I read further, and though it didn't go into specifics about what I was hoping it would, there was enough there that hinted at something deeper, more profound. I decided to take a chance, sending off an email to the address listed for contacting. At first I wasn't sure what to write, what to send in hopes that Chris would respond back to me as quickly I hoped for. I sent: She is me...
I sat back trying not to think about any of this, not yet. It was almost too overwhelming for me as it was. And...I had another problem facing me now too. I was running low on cash. I had just a little over a hundred on me, with no access to my own account, or credit cards. Faye of course had a couple, but there again, the signature thing was apt to cause me problems there. I wasn't sure how lucky I'd be in being able to actually use them for one thing, nor did I know what her balance was, or limits. Using them would be something I would do only as a last resort. Unfortunately, I was going to have to do something about buying a few things either way, like it or not. And without having access to a ride, nor the luxury of taking a cab again, I had no other choice but to go next door and knock, hoping my new found friends...old friends, could possibly help me.
Sharon of course had already gone to work, but Jillian was up and about, and more than happy to take me out to do some much needed shopping, though I fibbed a little in telling her that my credit cards were pretty close to being maxed out, so I'd have to be very careful and wise in using them.
"No worries," she smiled. "I know where we can go to get a BIG discount. Friend of ours works at a woman's lingerie store. That's where Sharon and I always go whenever we need anything. I'm sure once we explain to her what happened to you, she'll be more than happy to help." I was delighted to hear that, though on the drive over to the store, Jillian then informed me that they had in fact all gotten together on occasion in times past. Part of which was a repayment of sorts for all the "free stuff" they got, in addition to the discounted merchandise items. "Don't worry, you'll like her. She's really sexy, and very cute...a bit of a wild side on her yes, and a few kinks...but nobody better who can help us out here. Trust me."
I'd always hated that saying. "Trust me." There was always a catch, some hidden warning that always proved itself out, though when it did, it was usually too late. Even so, I followed Jillian into the small, yet well displayed lingerie store, though realizing as we did, it wasn't just about that. Aside from the expected obvious, most of their stuff was almost TOO sexy, TOO revealing, not to mention the fact that a back area of the store appeared to cater to mostly "adult toys and novelty items."
