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Chapter 62 - Remake Yourself At Home

Mrs. Betancourt grimaced and clutched the edge of the table with her head down.

Lea held her hands and took a deep breath. “Mom, dad….I’m alright. Truly. Last night, yeah. I felt like I had nothing left. Like I was drowning in a me that wasn’t me. But Kenzie…” She put a hand on my shoulder. “She was there for me. As a friend. As more than I can imagine. She saved me.”

And I was also the cause of all her grief in the first place. I held her hand and gave a measured smile. Mr. Betancourt nodded at me and offered, “Thank you, Kenzie. I don’t understand much of this. How it happened…what forces wrought this. But I prayed all day for strength for my whole family.”

I looked at Lea’s father. While he didn’t have tears in his eyes, I could feel he was holding them back.

And what if I told him I was the force that wrought this? That with a bitter, vindictive whim over Wes giggling at my writing nearly two years ago, I’d somehow willed him into a small, cute girl forever. Sure, I told myself I didn’t know what thought or action led to what, but I could sense it deep inside. I’d wanted Wes to hurt. I’d wanted him to be a girl completely and utterly. And only with my guilt had I altered him further so that pain stopped. Altered him so he adored me for what I’d done.

I was too big a coward to do more than think those words.

Lea brushed her hair back and said, “It’s as crazy and incomprehensible for me. But what I understand is…It will be alright. I may sound different and look different and even feel different, but I love you just the same. I’m Wes, even though I like the name Lea.”

Carefully, Lea rose from her seat and wrapped her arms around her dad. Her mom soon joined the hug. I politely looked away.

I did my best not to involve myself in their moment. I found stuff on the walls to look at, such as crucifixes. If I was some sort of demon or…monster, then they weren’t working.

Glancing back, I saw Lea’s mom give her a kiss on the head. She flinched a little, as any good teenager should about a kiss from their mom.

After that, things assumed a strange sort of normalcy. Questions about dinner. Double-checking my allergies. Mrs. Betancourt seemed to recall an allergy from something Wes had once said. 

My dad had mentioned it, but I confirmed, “Not anymore.”

They’d be having baked flounder with mixed veggies and fruit. Lea’s mom was some sort of fish-eating vegetarian. I remembered that much. Eventually, I was alone with Lea’s dad.

He gave a little nod at me and took a deep breath before asking, “What did you do?”

I tensed up. Prickles on the back of my neck. His gaze didn’t seem accusatory. Calmly, I asked what he meant.

“When I picked up my…son from school on Tuesday, I couldn’t believe it. But the teachers assured me that the girl in the nurse’s office was my child. I didn’t want to believe it but…sitting with her, seeing her face, and looking beyond her face…I knew. Somehow, this was my Wes.” He swallowed roughly before continuing.

“Wes explained that uh…you told him in a class that you have this strange curse. That those around you become girls. He didn’t believe you. But then he started changing to… how he is now. Is that correct?”

That was technically accurate. I nodded and tried not to let my nervousness show. He folded his hands again, in the shape of a prayer.

“We took him to a local clinic. Useless. But he’s healthy, as far as they can tell. They wanted to put all of us with a family psychiatrist. Most of the week, he just stayed in bed. My wife stayed home a few days to help. He barely spoke. I worried so much. His girlfriend came around a few times, but she couldn’t do much either. Last night, they were yelling. I know she mentioned you. But Wes stormed off. Said he was going for a walk but…as I said, the look in his eyes terrified me. Time passed and I was paralyzed. I thought about driving around, searching for him. But then we got a call…”

He reached a hand out and gave a single shake of his head. “Wes had made it to your place. He was fine. He sounded normal, despite everything. I wondered…Am I dreaming? Am I awake? Or did I break? But all the phone calls since and seeing Wes now…I have to ask myself, what did you do to save my child?”

With a ripple of relief, I settled into the couch. I held my hands and told him, “I honestly don’t know. I don’t know how this started, why whatever this is began, and why it affected Wes more than anyone else. I wondered…if it’s because we were together and everything. But, last night, Wes was in a dark, terrible place when I found him. I pleaded with him. I held him. I begged and prayed for something…someone to help him. It felt like monsters were closing in. I…prayed so hard that he would be safe and protected and…he was okay…”

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Mr. Betancourt brought his hands to his mouth and shut his eyes. Did he sense anything in the words I’d chosen? Did he detect what I’d left out and the way I’d shaded things? I almost wanted to amend them until he said softly, “God watched over you both. Thank you.”

I felt more relief than shame. But did I really need to tell him that I might’ve mentally willed this upon Wes in the first place and then willed Lea into being? I couldn’t prove it or disprove it.

He eased back in his chair as Lea and his wife returned. Lea had changed out of her sweater and blue flannel and into a plain, pink top with gray, drawstring cotton pants. She turned left and right a few times before announcing, “Finally found one that fits. Technically.” With a quick grimace, she raised one shoulder, then the other.

Her first bra. Mr. Betancourt gave a tense nod and remarked, “Good. Your mom can…keep taking care of that. Just don’t get like your sister, Isy. I still have headaches.”

Lea blushed and quickly nodded. I remembered Wes had mentioned a rebellious, middle sister once.

Dinner was ready soon after that. There were a few more peppers than I would’ve preferred, but I ate around them. Lea told her parents about the last day or so, with more enthusiasm and detail than most teenagers should dare attempt.

She inflated the kindness of my parents and pointed out that we did our homework together. No mention of late-night bed-sharing. Brief mention of making breakfast. Even briefer mention of the PE boys.

Lea’s mom raised her thin eyebrows, and her dad just about blanched with his lip straight and low. Quickly, Lea fanned her hands and blurted out something in stammered Spanish. Despite the language barrier, I understood she wanted her parents to forget she’d ever mentioned it. Mr. Betancourt laid a hand on his forehead but slowly went back to eating.

Moving along quickly, Lea focused on her wonderful first period class. She intimated the same she’d expressed to me about feeling like a new student, unknown to everyone. Her mother reached across the table to touch her hands and say, “You’ll be okay.”

Pulling back a sniffle without tears, Lea continued through the difficult period and her fight with Natalie. It was here Lea made it clear, “I’m going to break up with Nats. I hope we can still be friends but that’s up to her. What she said and did and how she threatened Kenzie…was inexcusable.”

Her parents looked at me. I focused on my food.

Both supported Lea, which was more than I could’ve hoped for from my own parents. The rest of the day breezed past in Lea’s words but they soon detected a pattern, which her mom pointed out, “You stayed around Kenzie a lot. Is that for the best if we don’t know what’s happening to her?”

Setting her fork down, Lea answered, “It’s my choice. She saved my life and… everything feels better when she’s around.”

While her parents looked at each other, they didn’t pry. They just listened as Lea grumbled about being a psych study and delighted in being someone’s work of art.

As a final note, she reiterated her chosen name, “I’ve been using Lea in classes. L-E-A. I know my name is still intrinsically ‘Wesley’ but, when I stood there after the pain finally eased, I felt in my heart and my soul that my name is Lea. It can remain legally the same but that’s the name which means…me now.”

They each tried it out carefully in casual conversation. Her father had more trouble with it than his wife. He favored an unadorned “Lee”, as though simply chopping off the ‘Wes’ part.

I was just glad whenever I wasn’t the focus of conversation. Dinner ended with the promise of buying new clothes over the weekend and the possibility of redecorating ‘Lea’s bedroom. Mr. Betancourt didn’t have much to offer about either prospect.

However, I did notice he gave his “daughter” a few hugs after dinner. Careful hugs but with increasing warmth.

Eventually, it was time to work on our “class project”.

I followed Lea down the narrow side hallway. Her bedroom was at the end on the left. I’d never actually seen it before.

I hadn’t seen many boys’ bedrooms. I nearly got to see Cody’s bedroom once, but he vetoed that idea with a vague and horrifying explanation which culminated in underwear (specifically a G-string) stapled to the door for some reason.    

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Art by Alexis Rillera/Anirhapsodist