Author's Note - My apologies for taking so long to get back to this story. I lost interest for awhile but am keen to finish the arc of Liesl's story and anticipate finishing in one or two more chapters. This chapter may stand alone, but will make much more sense if you read the entire series. I hope you enjoy.
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I lay low for the next week. While my body hurts, my mind feels release from the dread that had plagued me since the blind date that went so horribly wrong. I hadn't realized it but fear of being attacked by that man had really done a number on me - the fear of another bad date, or worst yet, being attacked by him prevented me from going out and having fun.
I also spend a great deal of time talking about the event with Dr. Petterson. She helps me process the attack and how it has effected me. That is helpful, but we both end up spending a lot of time talking about the Wiccans. Simona had gone through her transmogrification 30 years before I went through mine and in all that time she'd never encountered the Wiccans again, with the exception of meeting newly changed people referred to her by others in our small community. What became glaringly obvious to both of us was that the Wiccans were covertly monitoring us, at least to some degree - how else could they have known to punish my attacker by reversing this transformation? Simona adds another level of intrigue when she tells me that she believes that not only did they switch John Kline back to being a woman, but they also likely saddled him with an addiction and quite possibly a very sickly body. There is no way he could have gone from healthy when we had our date to the meth-ravaged creature that came after us in the several months that elapsed between the events.
The take home message for both of us, one that we will spread to the rest of our peeps, is that the Wiccans are watching us, and are making judgements about our behavior, then reacting as they see fit. The net effect of this is quite chilling in a sense - there is an omniscient and quite possibly omnipotent group of people that have a power over our lives and are accountable to nobody so far as we can tell. The only, odd solace that Dr. Petterson and I can take away from these revelations is that there is literally nothing we can do about it - so why worry?
I tell Sarah that I'm totally ready to go on our long-planned double date with her 'fuck-buddy' Sam and his friend Marcus. My shoulder has healed, though the gash on my knee has left a scar, but it's hidden by the jumpsuit's pants and I'm feeling very confident about myself when the guys arrive at Sarah's place to take us to dinner and then a double header at the drive-in. Sam is a perfect match for Sarah - he's on the shorter side 5'6" and built like a wrestler, looking as wide as he is tall. He has short, curly, dirty-blonde hair that frames his masculine face and square jaw nicely. Same gives me the impression that he's basically a mass of very large muscles attached to a handsome face, and as I find out later, a witty, sharp mind.
I'm actually stunned when I see Marcus. Sarah hadn't mentioned that he was black so that was a pleasant surprise. He stands almost six feet tall and looks like he lifts weights with Sam almost every day, his body tapering from ultra-wide shoulders to a seems-too-narrow waist. The cute Hawaiian shirt he's wearing seems about to rip at his shoulders but hangs loose around his waist, while the black cotton pants he's wearing show off a bottom that I find myself glancing at far too often. His face has a boyish charm - it's clean shaven and little dimples dot his cheek when he smile, which he often does. His hazel-green eyes, and short unruly hair just add to the aura of his attractiveness.
The guys pile us into Sam's Suburban and we drive to a popular Mexican restaurant, La Parrilla Suiza. It's not very romantic, but has a fun atmosphere, strong drinks and yummy food so it's a good pick in that it doesn't make me feel pressured for romance later in the evening. We drink a couple of pitchers of margaritas while we are there, or maybe I should say the boys drink one and a half pitchers and Sarah and I each have one. Sam and Marcus have been close friends since they were stationed at the local Air-Force base together and now work in the local aerospace industry as engineers. They tell us many stories from their wild days in the military, most of them involving too much alcohol, all of them at least R-rated. The stories are funny, but also quite endearing - it's clear how close their friendship is.
Watching them clown around with each other leads me to a realization. Back when I'd been Austin, I'd had male friends, but never a best buddy. After the events of the solstice, a few of the guys would text me every so often wanting to hang out or go on a hike, but when I didn't return their messages every single one of them stopped trying to hang out within a month or two. It sounds sad, but what it helps me realize is that my friendship with Sarah has become the most important and closest friendship that I've ever had - and it wouldn't be this way if I was still Austin.
We share a lot of laughs with the guys during the meal, and I catch Marcus looking me over several times during the meal. This for me is such a novel experience - when I'd gone on dates as Austin I'd never gotten the impression that my date was checking me out, not like Marcus (and once or twice Sam) does. I find myself enjoying the way Marcus' dreamy eyes linger just a beat too long when he glances at my chest, or the way I see him looking at my bottom when I see our reflection in a mirror as we leave the restaurant. The guys are complete gentleman and politely decline Sarah and my attempts at splitting the bill. We pile into the gigantic SUV, Sarah driving, with the slightly inebriated Sam beside her, while Marcus and I sit in the back.
