Take a Lemon

Given that Geoff’s number had changed, I probably shouldn’t have been so confident that I knew Chad’s, but the number I called turned out to be correct, and his mother answered.

“Hi, Mrs. Barnes,” I said. “It’s Marsh Steen. Is Chad in?”

“Jennifer! How are you? What’s new in college?” Whoa. Jennifer? I’d forgotten. She’d always called me “Dwight” before, rather than “Marshall,” insisting that people should be called by their first names. Chad and I used to laugh about it behind her back; apparently, that pattern had carried over. There was some logic to it, I suppose, but it was strange to hear myself called that.

“I’m fine, Mrs. Barnes,” I answered. Sometimes I could get away without a personal update when I called, but generally only when I had spoken to her recently. Marsha had probably called very rarely, so it wasn’t happening today. “I’m in some interesting classes, and I’m in a play.”

“What play?”

“The Mousetrap, by Agatha Christie. I’m playing the role of Mollie – that’s a very large role. We’ve only just started rehearsing, but it looks like it’s going to be fun.” The more information I gave her, usually the fewer things she would think to ask me. I used to try to give very terse answers, but experience had taught me that it just made the grilling longer. I’d eventually gotten to the point where I could usually get past her after only three or four questions.

“How nice! And when are you performing?”

“At the beginning of December. The week before House Parties, and before exams start.”

“That’s convenient, isn’t it? Are you seeing anybody? Do you have a date?”

“Not right now, Mrs. Barnes. With the play and my classes and my sewing, I’ve decided that I don’t really have time for a social life right now. I can do that later.” And I really didn’t want to think about House Parties right now.

“That’s very sensible of you, Jennifer. Responsibilities first. It was so nice talking to you again. Did you want to talk to Chad?”

“Yes, please.”

Chad must have heard her end of the conversation, as he was right there.

“Hey, Marsh.”

“Hey, Chad,” I said eagerly, “Tina said that you had some ideas for me.”

“Well, it’s mostly just some thoughts and questions. I think it’s really odd that the writer of the article didn’t say anything about trying to find the experimenters, and I was wondering… is it possible that there is some other explanation?”

“Like what?”

“Well… I don’t want to minimize anything you’ve told me, but is it possible that this is just some kind of mass hypnosis or something? Maybe nobody remembers you as a boy because you never were one, and they just made you believe that you were? And they did the same thing for all those other students?”

“It’s an interesting thought, Chad, but it won’t fly. I don’t just ‘believe’ that I was a boy. I remember my old life. Hypnosis wouldn’t make me able to play the guitar, for example.”

“Are you sure you can? Have you tried? Maybe they just made you believe that you could.”

“Not possible. I haven’t tried because I don’t have a guitar and haven’t had time to look for one I could borrow, but I know way too much about playing. I understand music theory that Marsha wouldn’t; I know how to make dozens of chords, and I can actually remember the way it feels to play and bend strings and… lots of things somebody who doesn’t play wouldn’t know.”

“But how do you know that your memories are accurate? Have you checked with somebody who actually plays?”

I sighed. I was certain, but I didn’t have any real way to prove it. “And I remember the books I used to own, which are different from the ones Marsha has, and I understand sports better than Marsha probably would, and…” Then I had a thought. “How about your room? How could they have given me knowledge of your stash?”

“OK, good point,” he conceded. “But it doesn’t answer the original question. How do you know the experimenters are still there? Maybe their manipulation made them vanish.”

“Wait. How would it do that?”

“Well, I’m just speculating, but doesn’t it seem that if they were around, the article would have mentioned them, or the administration would have acknowledged them? What if… I’m just playing with ideas here, but… well, let’s say that they changed one of the students from birth, maybe gave them a genetic defect, and as a result, their parents wound up giving money to some medical fund instead of to Piques. What if that money was what funded the research in the first place? I mean, shouldn’t you check?”

It sounded kind of far-fetched, but… “I promised Tina that I wouldn’t go to them until after New Years, Chad.”

“I’m not saying to talk to them, Marsh. I just think you should make sure they’re there.”

“Hmm. I guess I could take a look around the physics building. My schedule’s packed to the gills, but this seems kind of important. OK, thanks, Chad.”

“So… um, otherwise, how are you doing?” He sounded a bit forced, and it took me a moment to understand why. I had told him that he and Marshall were best friends. He was apparently trying to play the role that he thought I expected of him.

The problem is, “how are you doing?” wasn’t how he and I had related. We talked sports or science fiction or gave each other problems to solve. He was trying to be friends to the guy that I had told him I was, but was relating to me as though I were a girl. He really wouldn’t be all that interested in hearing about Jared. I didn’t want to talk to him about sewing, and I wasn’t doing anything like the things that used to give me topics of conversation to share. I hadn’t read a science fiction book in nearly three weeks, since Marsha didn’t own any, and I hadn’t been following the Phillies nearly well enough to say anything intelligent about them. Living as a girl was making it hard for me to talk to my best friend.

But he seemed to expect something, so I just said, “It’s hard, but I’m managing, and now you’ve given me something else to think about. Thanks.” That’s probably what Marsha would have said, but it didn’t advance our kind of conversation. I didn’t want to relate to him as Marsha, especially after his suggestion that that’s who I really was. Or that I might be stuck as her, even if he conceded that I hadn’t started that way.

“Sure,” he said. “Um… “ And then he paused. For longer than I would have thought necessary.

“Go ahead, Chad. You need to accept that I’m really a guy, inside.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s just… look, I’m working on it, Marsh.

“I know, and I appreciate it,” I told him. I didn’t want things to get too awkward, not with him, so I let him off the hook. “And if you have any more ideas, why don’t you just call me?” I gave him my cell number and then hung up.

Chad and his mother had raised two issues I had been trying hard to ignore. First, of course, was House Parties. Sitting in my bedroom when both of my roommates – and most of the campus – were enjoying themselves was not going to be pleasant. I’m kind of a love addict, and while I had resigned myself to being romance-free during this interlude, House Parties was going to be kind of rubbing it in. But Chad’s suggestion was downright horrifying. Spending a few months as Marsha was interesting, and getting to play Mollie was still exciting, even with the Jared problem, and I was sure that I could learn a lot of useful things from Jared, playing a lead role. But I had assumed that this was all temporary. As for his suggestion that there might actually not be a way back? Well, that didn’t really bear thinking about – not if I wanted to retain my sanity.

Friday night posed a bit of a dilemma. I really didn’t want to spend it alone, but comments had been made about my going out with the gang when I had said that I had “no time” to date. So when Lee Ann asked if I was going to a movie with the girls, I told her that I had to work on something.

“Marsh, you’re not hiding because of the guy in the Grill, are you?”

“No!” I protested. “I just need to get some work done.”

“On what?”

I hadn’t thought that far ahead, so I hesitated.

“This isn’t something I’d suggest to most girls, Marsh, but I think it would make you feel a lot better if you had a regular boyfriend.”

What? “I… I told you, Lee Ann, I don’t have-“

“If you could have simply said to that jerk that you had a boyfriend, it would have been much easier for you.”

“Lee Ann,” I tried again, “I just don’t-“

“And I have just the right guy in mind for you.”

“Haven’t we already-“

“Geoff.”

Huh? “Wait. I thought you were interested in Geoff.”

“Why would I be interested in Geoff when I have Stephen?” Seeing my look of confusion, she explained, “Geoff and I are just flirting. He knows about Stephen. Chandra’s seeing his roommate and she told him.”

“But…” I protested. “I heard Chandra tell him that you were probably going to break up with Stephen!”

She looked at me with surprise. “What? That doesn’t make any sense. Why would she…?” She looked thoughtful. “You’re sure?”

“I was standing right next to her when Geoff asked if you had a boyfriend, and I told her you did, and she said it wasn’t going to last.”

“Hmmm. I wonder what’s that’s all about. So you think that Geoff…”

“He’s been after me in Orgo to get your number.”

She sighed. “OK, looks as though I’m going to have to talk to him. But I could tell him to call you…”

“No thanks, Lee Ann,” I protested. “I’m really serious about not wanting to see any boys right now. And I’m going to have to deal with Jared myself. I just have to figure out how.”

“If you’re sure… Well, since we’ve established that you’re not actually busy tonight, how about coming to a movie with us?” And she smiled at me as she said it, so what I could say?