A Murder Misstery Aloft

." She closed her eyes, lost in her memories. "We used to go everywhere together! To the museums in downtown Chicago, or shopping for dresses for you, although I always drove out to the Woodfield Mall so we wouldn't run into the neighbors."

She opened her eyes, and there was a guilty expression on her face as she surveyed me once again. "You make a lovely woman. So many times I would look at you as you were growing up, and wonder what might have been...." I was hanging on every word as she revealed the secrets which explained so much. "Once you were old enough to go to kindergarten, I knew I had to put an end to my fantasy, and I promised you that it would always be our secret. By then, I could tell you were getting tired of it, and in a way I was happy that you forgot about your dolls and dresses and adapted so well to being a full-time boy. Until you made the newspapers," she said wryly, "I'd all but forgotten about it too, although I must say I wasn't entirely surprised when they said you ran away disguised as a girl." She leaned forward and took my hand. "I'm sorry for what I did to you, I know I was foolish and selfish, and looking at you now, I can't help but wonder if it's all my fault."

There was a look of infinite sadness in her eyes. I tried to imagine all that she'd just been through: the death of her husband, so soon after the loss of her youngest child, after he'd been branded a criminal and committed suicide, only to discover that he was really alive and living as a woman...these weren't life passages, these were bobsled runs! I was trying to think of the right words to say when Mom said them for me. "So I guess you have me to thank for your perfect disguise and getaway. Will you stay with me for a little while before you go?"

* * *

Once again I awakened in a strange bed, only this time my surroundings were familiar – my old room! I stretched in my nightgown and thought back over the incredible evening we'd spent together, sitting on the family room sofa and gabbing till midnight like mother and long-lost daughter, which in a sense I suppose we were.