Date: Sat, 24 Jun 2023 19:55:23 +0000 From: ChristyDancer Subject: Christy's Diary -- Chapter 40 Sunday, December 15 That... last... week... before... Christmas... break.... is ... exhausting. First, there was Monday. We'd done the play, and now Mr. Mac was talking about the Spring play and the spring drama festival. Apparently, and I'm just learning this shit as we go along, there is this big friggin drama festival with like a lot of other schools held two states away in the Spring. Most schools put on a one-act play, although there are apparently a bunch of other categories. Happens over a weekend, so we all drive in a caravan something like 500 miles (leave like w-a-a-a-ay early on a Thursday) and then either perform or attend on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, then another dozen hour caravan home on Monday. Four nights in a hotel. Pick your roommates. I wanted to pick Carlos, but I figured that wouldn't happen, so we'll see how that happens. We went to see Dr. Strange again on Monday afternoon. I mainly just recounted my week, and he asked how my breast growth was coming along. I told him `sore' but not much change in size. He just nodded, like it was no big deal. He was also focused on my height, and asked Mom how tall Becca was. Then he wanted to know how tall Mom was and how tall my Dad was. I dunno what any of this means, but Dad was 5'10" (I didn't know that!) and Mom is 5'4" and so is Becca. Becca and I are almost the same height, but my figure is w-a-a-a-ay different from hers. Becca and I both take after Mom more than my Dad (or at least I guess, based on old photos) but I'll figure out what that means later. Our school is on a quarter system to line up with the local colleges which are mainly also on quarters. That means that `final' first quarter grades came out right before Thanksgiving and academically, the end of the year doesn't really mean anything. Winter quarter's just starting and no one really gives a shit until January. Oh, and it turns out, Drama is also a graded class I can take as an elective. Who knew. Turns out I'm fairly good at it. Might take it next year. The first snow started hitting the nearby ski slopes, and word has it the slopes will be open next week. We'll miss it. Mom decided, without telling us, that she, Becca, and I are all going back east after Christmas. It's a big, long, celebration of New Years with a bunch of high rollers and big shits. She and Dad used to go every year. I remember going when I was a little kid. I remember they had the coolest day-care. Apparently now there's a teen program and I'm supposed to be in it. All this is coming at me like a firehose. Mom says there's a big-ass formal party on New Years and I'm supposed to dress up, but I've already got the stuff I wore to the formal thingie last weekend and the dress I'm wearing Saturday night so I'm covered there. She says school-type clothes are fine the rest of the time -- jeans and such. I'm covered. But suddenly I realized -- how do I fly? I flew a couple of times when I was w-a-y younger in boi-mode but I really didn't understand how that happened. I asked Mom and she said that I didn't need a passport and since I was under 16 I could just fly with her and she'd carry my birth certificate in case anyone asked. Now for the depressing news -- my airplane tic is in my dead name to match my birth certificate, so to be on the safe side, I'll have to fly in "androgenous" mode. None of that was happy-ness making. Mom said, "You're an actress now. If you can put up with acting like a boy for two flights, you'll be a girl for the rest of the trip." Sigh... I need to get a girl-mode passport. The rest of the week flew by. I saw Carlos at lunch a couple of times but "drama club", such that it was, basically disintegrated. Mr. Mac said we'd fire back up in January. Most of the sister-wives got together for lunch at our old place, but the cold weather made lunch unbearable so we ended up eating inside sitting in a circle on the floor, which is not exactly handy in a skirt but what the hell. Over the course of the week, everyone wanted to know what everyone else was doing over Christmas. Brie, as always, went first, on Monday, by taking a poll of what everyone was doing. Maddy and her family were staying at home and doing a lot of church stuff. Apparently, they were doing something every day of the week from now until Christmas, and then recuperating until New Years. Both of the Emmas were taking off after Christmas to do something. Emma-Red's family had a cabin in the mountains and had access to cross-country ski trails and stuff like that. It sounded like a hell of a lot more fun than what I had planned. On the other end of the spectrum. Emma-Brunette's family was going to visit her grandparents in California. I could tell from the tone of her voice that wasn't going to be fun. Randi (now an official sister-wife) was just `hanging out around here' which caught Brie's attention. Apparently, Brie also didn't have an `plans' for the holidays, but I could see `plans' formulating in her little brain. "Do you ski?" she asked Randi. Randi replied, "I snow-board". I jumped in and mentioned that I also snow-board, but that got no-one's attention. "You wanna go up to the slopes one day?" Brie said. "You could spend the night at my house, and then my Dad could drive us up that morning and then that evening you sleep over again." Huh.... I got the strangest impression that this `ski-date' had less to do with ski-ing and more to do with snuggling under blankets in Brie's basement to get warm. Randy jumped at the chance. "Yeah! I could do that! That's great. Let's plan on that." I don't think I'd ever seen her so enthusiastic about something. When it came my turn, I told everyone about the upcoming trip to the east coast and as much as I knew about it, but I had totally lost Brie's attention. She was now completely focused on her `ski trip' (if you want to call it that) after Christmas. On Tuesday, the topic du jour (see Mom? I know some French!) was what we wanted for Christmas. I immediately said I wanted a vagina, and everyone laughed. I then said I'd settle for a set of golf clubs, and everyone just nodded. Tennis clothes, clothes, formal clothes, hiking clothes, and clothes seemed to be on everyone's list. Everyone wanted a driver's license, although we were all at least a year away from that. Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday were basically the same. We all hugged and cried at the end of school on Friday like we weren't going to see each other again until next year (which was, technically, true... except for Brie and Randi, who I assumed would be seeing a lot more of each other very soon). Becca flew in late Friday night. On Saturday, the three of us spent pretty much the whole day getting ready for the dinner/auction/gala whatever last night. We all both for our hair early in the morning. I've been using a home-color for copper blond, which is really close to a darker red, and I like it so the hairstylist did something like that plus added some nice body and straightened out my perpetual frizzy curly mess. At the manicurist, I got some acrylics (not very long, but lovely) and a deep red color. We then dropped by the makeup counter at Nordstrom's to get the rest of what we'd need to look like a proper Mom and and her two daughters. We were leaving for the gala at 4:30. The silent auction didn't start until 5:30, but it was held at a hotel. We were going into town and would finish dressing in a hotel room Mom had booked for the occasion. Apparently, Dad came up with this idea back when he was with us, and it gave him and mom the excuse to crash there afterwards and not drive drunk home. It wasn't a huge room, and if the three of us decided to crash there, it was very likely someone would sleep on the floor or on the sofa, but what the heck. It was huge fun and a place to go upstairs and straighten out my makeup if need be. I'd brought my dress and shoes in a separate bag, along with my makeup kit and some spare clothes to sleep in if we decided to spend the night. I was wearing the black dress with the spaghetti straps, and thus a well-padded black strapless bra (which isn't nearly as comfie as I thought it would be, but tolerable). I had a pair of black lace panties with a little black cup in the crotchy area to hide my little bit of junk. Add to that a pair of black hose, a black heels, and some gorgeous green jade bracelets and matching jade neckace and earrings, and I frankly looked ready to do the runway. I looked damn good. A very careful study in the mirror only revealed faint traces of boy-ness remaining. I'd never been to something like this, and it was like a fairy tale. It was a fundraiser for the local theater, and there must have been a couple of hundred items on display (lots of wine, I noticed) that you could bid on by writing down your number and a price on a form next to the item. There were a couple of cash bars and wait staff roaming with cheap (I assumed) champagne and hors d'oeuvres. (Yea, Mom, I had to look up the spelling of that. I don't know THAT much French.) I lost track of Mom. I was trying to mind my own business and just marvel at all the stuff and drink the club soda that they let me have. I saw Becca being her charming self surrounded by whatever guys in their 20's happened to be here and, I guess, trying to break into regional theater. I didn't see ANYONE I guessed to be my own age, so I tried not to be too bored. I looked around for Mom, and saw her in the middle of a big gaggle of people, mostly men, enjoying a glass of wine and laughing at something someone was saying. I hadn't seen her smile like that in... well... forever. Suddenly, Becca was standing beside me and looking at her as well. Becca said, "You know, the pressure on Mom since Dad died has been huge. She rarely gets to have a good time anymore. This is therapy for her. Let's give her some space." I just nodded, and kept looking at the pretty stuff. I was staring at some cheap jewelry on a table that drunk theater-goers were offering too much money for, thinking that maybe I needed to be in the cheap jewelry business. When I turned to walk to the next table, I was suddenly nose-to-nose with a guy who was somewhere within a few years of my age, more or less (It was hard to tell with all the cute tuxedos). "Christy, right?" "Yes, you've done a great job of reading my nametag... Jeff?" He laughed, "Yeah. Got me dead to rights. Jeff. Hey look, I'll apologize in advance. I know absolutely nothing about making small talk." "Whew," I said. "Thank goodness. I was afraid I was the only one." "I assume you're here with your parents, right?" "Yeah, my Mom. My Dad's dead." "Oh shit. Sorry. I mean..." "Nah. It's OK. No other way to say it, right? I mean, if I say he's `not here' or something like that, you might think he's some kinds of dirt bag and ran off. I deal with it. Lots of therapy." "Ahhhh.... OK.... So, changing the subject ever so swiftly, are you in the theater?" "Not here. I mean, I did one play with about a dozen lines at school. Avant guard version of `Merchant of Venice' mostly set to look like `Devil Wears Prada'." I was Emily Blunt." "You look Emily Blunt-ish. I mean, Devil Wears Prada, not Edge of Tomorrow." "I'll take either. Or Mary Poppins." "So, you enjoying yourself?" "I spend my days in a school uniform lugging around a pile of books and trying not to trip over my own laces. Tonite I'm wearing a cute dress -- thank you for saying so, by the way -- and flirting with strange young men named Jeff. So yes, I'm having a good time. Not a great time, mind you, but a good time." "School uniform? How old are you?" "Ninth grade." "So.... You've been held back several years, right?" "No, Jeffrey, if that really is your name. I'm a legit 14, maybe 15 if I live to the end of January. And while we're sharing deepest, darkest secrets, how old are YOU?" "My parents tell me I'm 18 in earth years. I'm a senior, with all of the haughtiness and overbearing personality that that entails. That also means, of course, that I'm committing a felony by talking to you." "No, talking to me would just be a misdemeanor. You can pay a fine and do some community service. So, other than prison, what plans for next year, or are you thinking that far ahead?" "Yeah, my college acceptance says no felonies for the remainder of the school year. Air Force Academy after I graduate." "No shit. Air force. Fly stuff, right? Say, I didn't think military academies accepted people who hung out with theater types." "They've loosened the rules a lot. No musicals, except Gilbert and Sullivan and the Music Man, but anything else is OK." We went on like that for a while. He was very sweet, and we both knew that NOTHING was going to happen, but sweet, none-the-less. Then about 7:00pm or so, the silent auction ended and the doors opened to this HUGE ball room with assigned table seating, a big stage in the middle and a dance floor. I looked around for a cue from Mom, and she was still deep in conversation with some guy who looked like our dentist but wasn't but had just a little bit of grey hair and was about 5'10". She had a type, I guess. Then I saw Becca headed for a table, and I just followed her. There were little name plates on the table where we were to sit. "Becca, How'd you know where to sit?" "Our table numbers are on the back of our name tags." That made me look, and sure enough, there was a table number. Just then, Jeff happened to walk behind me and graciously pulled out my chair for me. "Wow, Jeff, you've already got that `gentleman' part down pat. Not much left to teach you in the air forces, huh? "Yeah, that's about it," he said. "Just that and how to fly a jet." Then he walked on to his table, a little bit away. The auction was fun. I could do this more often. Dinner was good, too, but mostly there was music and a really funny MC and auctioneer, and then the theater group itself put on some brief musical performances here and there. The really large stuff (week's vacation in Aspen at someone's lodge, etc.) got auctioned off. Large dollars were raised. Mom even bought a painting for an embarrassing sum of money, making me wonder if she would be able to pay my school tuition next year. Then at the end, there was dancing. Old people dancing. People touching each other and dancing like it was a 1930's movie dancing. Nice. I kinda like that. About half way thru the first song, the dentist-looking fella came over and asked Mom if she'd like to dance, and she said yeah and left us there. Becca and I tried to make small talk with the other five folks at our table -- two couples and someone's great grandma. The great grandma kept saying, "you girls should go out on the dance floor and have fun." It was nice to have an old lady call me a girl. Of course, she probably has cataracts. Just then, one of the boys Becca had been shamelessly (!) flirting with came by and she jumped at the chance to go dancing, leaving me to fend off a mindlessly numbing conversation. Thank goodness the Air Force came to the rescue, and Jeff came along and asked me to dance. Like my sister before me... I leaped out of my chair. "So, Christy, you promise not to turn me in for dancing with you, right? Like I said, I don't need any criminal convictions between now and July." "I'm cool. I'll tell everyone you rescued me. They should give you a medal, or at least one of those fancy commendations." Just then it turned to a slow dance. I'm woefully unpracticed at this. The only time I've danced with a boy was at that school dance way back in October with Carlos. I admitted my lack of practice and Jeff was very kind and slow. And strong. Did I mention he was built like a brick wall? Anyway, I said to him, "You know, this is going to sound like an impossible coincidence, and you may hate me when I tell you this, but my Dad was in the Navy. Went to the Naval Academy. The one in Maryland." "Huh. Not that much of a coincidence. Lots of Navy presence around here. My parents must know a half dozen Admirals. They all tried to get me to go to Navy, but I'm not sure I like landing on a moving airfield and all. Did your dad fly?" "No. Well, not for the Navy. He was a private pilot later on. But he was in Navy Intelligence. I don't know much about what he did." "Yeah, that makes sense. Those guys were super secret." After a couple of songs, I told Jeff my feet needed a rest, and he led me back to my table. He said that he needed to catch up with his parents, and he'd be back to check on me soon. Most of the dancers seemed to have the same idea, and Becca came back, but with her new `boy-toy' sitting at what had been Mom's seat at the table. I managed to steal a moment of Becca's attention and asked where Mom was. Becca said, "I saw her slip off with Mr. Matson." "Who is Mr. Matson?" "The good looking guy she was dancing with." "What do you mean, `slip off'?" "I mean, like, maybe we're not the only ones with hotel rooms here." "The fuck you say! Mom is upstairs with a strange man????" "Christy, my dear, sweet, newly hatched, innocent sister. All men are strange, just some are less strange than others. Mom hasn't been with a man in a long time, or at least not that I know. Let her have some fun. She needs it." "Ahhh... I kinda thought Mom and.... Aunt Lilly..." "Yeah, that's a simple explanation, and may be true. But two things can be true at the same time, right?" My head was spinning a bit. Normally, I was the one who had to do a walk of shame back to my room after Carlos and I had done the dirty deed downstairs. Now, maybe I could get to see Mom's expression. Or maybe not. Jeff came over and we danced a little more, but I couldn't get my mind off my mother doing the deed upstairs. Jeff realized I was getting tired, and led me back to my seat where I could maybe collect my thoughts. Just then, I looked over at the entrance door, which was up a small flight of steps, and saw Mom and Mr. Matson coming back in the room. She had a look of pure joy on her face, and was walking on his arm and laughing at something he was saying. He walked her to near our table, then he went off to his party and Mom came over to our table. Becca's boy-toy had left by then, and Mom sat down, looking happy but exhausted. "So, have you girls had a good time?" We both nodded. I said, "I'm kinda ready to go back up to the room. Are we going to spend the night here? If so, I'll make up the sofa." Mom said, "That's probably a good idea. I'll be along in a few minutes." I got up to go, and Jeff came over to say goodbye. He was very sweet, and I knew I'd probably never see him again, but he made my night much better. I gave him a kiss on the cheek, and he said, "My lady, when the great war is over, and your Air Force has brought peace to the world, I'll be back for another kiss!" I just laughed and said, "By then, flyboy, it won't be a felony." He walked away, humming "Off we go, into the wild blue yonder...." So that was pretty much it. I made it up to the room on my own, changed into shorts and a t-shirt, no bra, just something cool to sleep in, spread the spare sheets from the closet on the sofa, and was nearly asleep when Mom and Becca came in. They claimed the bed, and we were all dead to the world before midnight. We slept until nine or ten, and changing back into the clothes we'd worn on the drive into town the previous day, we all headed pretty silently for the informal buffet downstairs for breakfast. Once we were all sitting, I decided to wrestle the elephant in the room. "So, are you and Mr. Matson an item now?" Mom smiled and said, "Christy, Charlie Matson and I have been friends since before you were born. He and your dad used to go hunting together. His wife passed away about two years ago, and I hadn't seen him since I don't know how long. It was good to catch up with him. He's a good friend." Becca gave me a `shut the fuck up' look, and I went back to work on my waffles and sausage. I spent the rest of today thinking about what to get Mom and Becca for Christmas, and figured I ought to get Carlos something. Of course, I'm sure he would appreciate a blow job, but I couldn't exactly figure out how to wrap that and get his Mom to put it under their tree, so I settled for one of those little golf divot tools. Sigh...