Love On Call

“Surgery isn’t like the drugs. If you stop them now, some of the physical changes in your body would be permanent, but a lot of them would go away eventually.” Flann waited, let her words sink in.

“I know.”

“This isn’t like that. There’s no going back, Blake. Once the breast tissue’s gone, it is gone.”

“I’m sure. I’ve always been sure.”

Flann nodded. “I know. And you know what else I know?”

“What?” Blake whispered, a shimmer of tears glistening on his lashes.

“Your mom is sure too. You have to talk to her about this before we schedule anything. You’re a minor, and she’s your mom.” Flann grinned. “And she’s sorta the head of this household.”

Blake laughed. “We’ve already talked about it before, some. I’ll talk to her right away.”

“Good. So what do you want to know?” Flann asked as they sprinted across the street.

“Will I have to stay in the hospital?”

“No, you can go home soon as you’re awake from surgery. It’ll take me, oh, an hour or so, but I can let you know for sure on that when I examine you.”

“Everyone will know, won’t they.”

Flann blew out a breath, her hand on the door to the café. “Probably some. Everyone who works with me in the office and in the OR will know. A few people will probably mention it to someone, but I don’t think it’ll become town news.”

“Okay.”

“Come on.” Flann pulled open the door and they waited in silence in the small room smelling of sugar and fresh dough, behind a handful of early risers at the glass-fronted counter filled with out-of-this-world concoctions. Several people greeted them in passing, giving Blake a smile or a guarded once-over. Curiosity. Small towners didn’t have a lot to talk about except the weather, births, deaths, money, and who was cheating on who. Come to think of it, that was probably the same all over. And then there were the newcomers to speculate about. Presley, Abby, and Blake were all still newcomers.

“Has anybody ever had it done before?” Blake asked as they started home with two brown paper sacks filled with bits of heaven. “Here?”

“No, not someone who’s transitioning like you, but the procedure, sure. About fifty percent of…” She paused, wanting to get this right. “Fifty percent of cis guys have what we call gynecomastia—their breasts develop at puberty. Too many hormones of all kinds floating around. Usually it’s pretty temporary, although not temporary enough for most of them. But if it doesn’t resolve by your age, it probably won’t. Surgery is an option then.”

“Man, that sucks.” Blake sounded both sympathetic and a little as if he was glad to hear about kindred sufferers.

“Yeah, they pretty much think so too. So I’ve had plenty of practice doing the procedure, although in a lot of places the plastics guys do it. I don’t know why, it’s not that complicated.” Flann grinned and Blake laughed.

“Can I go back to work right away?” Blake asked. “I don’t want to miss any time in the ER or at Dr. Valentine’s, depending on when you schedule it.”

“Five days restricted movement and three weeks limited strenuous activity. That means no lifting at all.”

Blake winced. “Okay.”

“I mean it. If you bleed, it’ll be a real pain in the ass for both of us. And your healing will be delayed. That’s the biggest problem with guys your age, keeping you from thinking you’re supermen.”

Blake shot her a look. “Bet it’s not just the guys. Remember way back when you were sixteen?”

“Smart-ass.” Flann laughed.

“When?”

“Let’s talk to your mom first, okay? And then I’ll look at my schedule and give you some dates and you can decide. We want to work it so you’re in good shape for the wedding.”

“Huh? You mean Harper and Presley?” Blake looked puzzled. “I’m not going to do anything except sit there.”

“Oh, ah…” Crap, she’d forgotten already she and Abby hadn’t told him about their plans for a wedding. Discussed it with him.

“What?”

This time she did punt. “Let’s wait till we get home and we’ll wake up your mom. Good thing we got her two of those apple fritters.”

*

At ten minutes to nine, Mari settled on the wide wooden steps of the wraparound porch of the grand mansion that had once been a family home and was now home to many. Home to her. She sipped her double espresso and watched a couple of teens ride by on bicycles, pedaling with no hands and debating some sports score. While she listened to the sounds of a summer Saturday morning—a lawnmower rumbling somewhere nearby, the distant honk of a horn, the excited barking of a dog down the street—she mused on how different this Saturday was from the others she’d spent here. She had plans. Her entire day was filled with things to do, people she would be spending time with. A hospital barbecue. That was definitely a first. She was really looking forward to it and admitted that was partly because she’d be seeing Glenn. They could be friends—they already were. And she didn’t have to feel guilty about how much she enjoyed just being with her. So she’d let herself enjoy the little secret thrill of anticipation.