His Perfect Match
Hi! Please sit down! You really want to know the story of my life? Okay, miss, please make yourself comfortable. It's going to take a little while to do justice to this amazing tale.
My name is Charlene Simpson. I've been married for 25 years to a wonderful man I've known since we were both children, Joseph Simpson. We have two wonderful children, and guess what? We're going to be grandparents for the first time around the first of the year! My daughter just called me yesterday!
Well, I guess you need to know that we were both born in San Francisco, me, 45 years ago, Joe, 47. You also better understand that we were BOTH born male.
Okay, I expected you to be surprised, but I swear its true! And no, I didn't have sex-change surgery; I was magically transformed. You don't believe in magic? Let me try to show you the proof. Take a look at these albums- see this boy at his 8th birthday party? That's me, in 1963. I was Charles Silvatori then, and that's Joe next to me. The accident that cost him his sight was still in the future. Gosh, what a different world it was then ... Anyway, Joe and I had met a couple of years earlier when his parents moved to our neighborhood. He and I immediately became pals, even though he was two years older, and a lot more athletic. I was small even for my age, shy, and kind of bookish. But I guess it was a case of opposites attracting right from the start.
Joe taught me how to play football, baseball, basketball ... you name the sport, and he got me out there. Of course, I taught him backgammon, chess, got him interested in the Hardy Boys ... so I guess the relationship was an equal one.
Things changed forever that summer day in 1965, though. It was a couple of weeks after Joe's 12th birthday. He had been bugging his parents for an archery set, and his father, over his mother's objections, had brought one. "Be careful, Joe!" she called after us "For God's sake, don't shoot your eye out."
When that movie came out almost years later, what was it called, "A Christmas Story?" Everyone else laughed when that line came up. Joe and I didn't.
We took the set out to a field near our house one Saturday morning. We spent an hour or so shooting at paper targets, and we both proved to be pretty good at it. But we were a typical pair of boys, and soon got bored. That's when boys usually get in trouble.
There was a greengrocer down the street, so we went there and bought a bag of apples. We walked back to the lot, and each ate an apple. Then Joe got a gleam in his eye, as he started at the core of the fruit. "Let's play William Tell!" he exclaimed.
I instantly knew what he meant. The story of the archer who shot the apple off his son's head. "Oh, Joe! No, Joe! No!" I told him. But it was no use. Once I saw that look, I knew that there was no talking him out of it. Joe stood me up against a tree, reached into the bag, and placed a gleaming red apple atop my head. He went and picked up his bow and arrow. I closed my eyes and said a prayer. I'm sure people could hear my knees knocking several blocks away. When Joe called, "Hold still! You want me to hit you or the apple?" It did nothing to calm my nervousness! I closed my eyes and said a prayer. I heard the first arrow go zinging past; I think it was above me and to the right.
The second arrow plunged into the tree about four inches above the top of the apple.
The third arrow penetrated the apple cleanly.
"Ha! Told you I could do it! Told you!" Joe shouted.
I breathed a tremendous sigh of relief. "You did it, Joe," I agreed. "Now can we do something else?"
"No way!" he shouted. "Your turn!"
"Me? I can't shoot an apple off your head, Joe." But he couldn't be talked out of the idea. "Come on, runt, you didn't have trouble hitting the targets, did you?"
"No, but-"
"No buts!" He was standing in front of the tree, placing the apple atop his head. I stood with the bow and arrow in my hands, nervously trying to size up the situation. "Come on!" he shouted. "Fire, already!" I did. The arrow's aim was almost on target, but it was about six inches too low.
I heard a sickening sound as it plunged into Joe's right eye, and then a terrible scream ...
When it was all over, Joe insisted he didn't blame me. His parents even seemed forgiving, though I think they silently put a good portion of the blame on me.
I did, too.
The doctors removed Joe's right eye that same day. They expressed concern about the left one, and sure enough, the infection spread to it, and he was left totally blinded days later.
Joe's parents wanted to put him in a special school at first, but he resisted, and they finally agreed to send him back to our neighborhood junior high. I had skipped a grade, so Joe would be a seventh grader, while I would be entering sixth. Our friendship continued, but the relationship would be forever altered.
Whereas Joe had been my protector, I now became his defender. He marched into school bravely, wearing his dark glasses and carrying his cane. Joe had always been one of the most popular boys in the class. Girls had crushes on him, and boys respected him.
Now, it became clear how much things had changed. Joe was used to being a leader. He could cope with what little teasing that came his way. What he wasn't prepared to deal with, though, was being pitied or ignored-sometimes even by teachers.
I stuck by his side, out of friendship. At those rare times when Joe let himself feel depressed, he'd accuse me of hanging around with him because of pity or guilt. I always protested loudly, and usually was able to talk Joe out of his funk before too long.
Through sheer determination, Joe quickly adapted to life as a blind person . He insisted on sticking with the cane, rather than getting a guide dog. He said he didn't want to be dependent on anyone or anything. He learned braille, and soon was keeping up with his studies with relative ease. And Joe being Joe, he insisted that we keep up our outdoor activities. He couldn't play a lot of his favorite games anymore, so instead, we started wrestling, going on hikes, and other activities that weren't sight-dependent. We moved onto high school, and Joe seemed to regain some of his old confidence. He ended up on the school debate team, and being elected class president. He would have traded those honors and a dozen more for the captaincy of the baseball team, but he seemed to be adapting well to his fate. Joe even began dating. I say "even," but I shouldn't be surprised. Joe was so handsome then, just like he is now! He would ask girls out from time to time, but more often than not, they'd ask him out. Joe lost his virginity more than a year before I did. "What was she like?" I asked. He smiled and said. "A real screamer," he said with a grin. "And she had a very musky scent." But beneath the bragging, I sensed a melancholy. I didn't press the point then. I really didn't come back to it until about seven years later, on the day of my transformation.
Joe had gone on to college in Washington state; I was attending U.C. Berkeley. It was spring break, our junior year. I picked up Joe at his house that morning; we planned to spend the day together. No special plans; just two old pals hanging out. Almost immediately, I sensed something was troubling Joe. I wondered what it could be. He long since seemed to have the adjustment to his blindness; he was doing well in school, was popular. He was president of his fraternity, and had been dating pretty steadily. We made conversation, but it was idle small talk. I had tried indirect approaches, but nothing seemed to work. Finally, I just confronted him straight out: "Joe, what's bugging you? Don't put me off; I've known you for too long, and I know you're deeply unhappy about something. What is it?" There was a long silence. Finally, Joe broke it. "Charles. I ... I don't think I'm ever going to find true love."
I was taken aback. "Joe, what do you mean? I thought you told me that you've been dating a lot, and that you thought it might be getting serious once or twice."
After another long, painful quiet period, Joe finally spoke again. "It's one thing to date, quite another to look at a lifetime commitment. When I ask a girl out, and we go out a few times, I can tell what's in her heart. Sometimes its curiosity. Sometimes its pity. But it's never, ever love. Why should a woman love me anyway? After all, I'm ... I'm ... "I couldn't believe it. Joe was fighting back tears! "Now Joe-" He cut me off. "I'm not in the mood to talk about it Charles, maybe later." I could tell by the tone that he meant what he said, so I changed the subject. "Joe, remember where our old Little League field used to be? There's a mall there now. We're almost there ... want to stop in?" "Sure," he said, without much enthusiasm.
As we headed through the doors, I mentioned to him that I'd only been in the mall once, but they had a great little cookie store. I remembered Joe's love for chocolate chips, and hoped a bagful might lift his spirits at least temporarily. We were walking along toward where the cookie place should be, and I stopped abruptly. "What's wrong?" Joe asked. "The cookie store," I said. "It's gone. I don't understand. This mall just opened last month."
"What do you mean, gone? It's gone out of business?" "There's no sign of it at all. There's this place called, Spells R' Us. It looks like a funky magic shop or something." We decided to go in. Only when I thought back later did I realize how strange it was for a mall store to have a door. Maybe I didn't think about it more then because of how startled we were by the strange, cluttered storefront; and by the strange man with the long white beard, wearing what looked like a bathrobe. "Hell Joe, Charles. Is there anything I can do for you today?"
"How did you know our names?" Charles asked.
"There's a simple answer, Charles. I'm a wizard." Charles laughed, a deep hearty laugh. That made me feel good. It had been breaking my heart to see my best friend so sad. "I don't think there's anything you can do for me, Wizard, unless you can give me back my sight." The Wizard shook his head and said, "Joe, as much as I wish I could, I can't do that. So I'm going to do the next best thing. Hold out your hand, please."
Joe complied. The Wizard pressed a shiny coin into it. "This is a magic penny, Joe. It will grant one wish for you. You have to make the wish, and then toss the penny into water." "Okay," Joe said with a smile. "What do I owe you, Mr. Wizard?" "Nothing, Joe. Just use it well. And as for you Charles" he reached under the counter and produced a sack of cookies. "The cookie lady left these for you. Don't worry, she'll be back here next time."
We walked out, more than a little bewildered. We ate the cookies, which were very good, by the way, and forgot about the shop with the funny man.
Later in the day, Joe asked me to drive to the bay. He always loved the salty smells and symphony of sounds there. We walked out onto a pier, and Charles seemed to relax as he breathed in the bracing air. We just stood there for a while, not saying much of anything, when Joe reached into his pocket and pulled out the penny.
"This is the coin that Wizard gave me, right? Well, here goes nothing," he said, getting ready to toss it. "I wish that my perfect mate would appear next to me. Someone who will truly love me, and who I can love back." And then, with a hard throw, he sent it hurtling into the water. I watched the coin splash into the bay, and almost immediately felt something happening to me. It was fairly painful, so I was glad it was over quickly. First, it felt like something kicked me in the gut. I doubled over with the pain and emitted a loud "ugggg." It was then I felt a sensation in my pelvis that made me think bones were breaking there. At that point, I started to black out, and expected to fall over.
But it must have been only temporary, because a moment later, I was alert, conscious, still standing, and ... profoundly changed.
"Charles? Are you okay?" Joe asked.
I was silent; I wasn't focused on Charles at that instant, but on what I had become: a woman!
I couldn't believe it, but the evidence was there for me to see, and feel. My hair, which had been collar length, now flowed well down my back. The red shirt and black slacks I had been wearing had somehow been transformed into a black, red and pink sleeveless dress. My unmistakably feminine hands were adorned with multiple bracelets and rings. The slim fingers tapered to long nails coated with pink polish.
Two medium-sized breasts now hung from my chest; I immediately noticed their weight, and the shift in my center of gravity, partially balanced by my wider hips and larger butt. My legs were now only covered by a pair of panty hose. It was a cool, slightly breezy day, and I felt very exposed as the wind blew up my skirt. I felt the coldness in my breasts, and instinctively folded my arms across them . My physical surprise and discomfort only lasted a split second, though. They were quickly replaced by panic.
I had become a woman? But how? Then it hit me ... the magic coin had actually worked! And it had turned me into Charles' perfect match! And it seemed to have worked emotionally, as well as physically. Just the feeling of standing next to him filled with a warmth that overcame the coolness of the day. The panic caused me to run. God, I was in high-heeled sandals, and almost caught one in the space between the board of the pier. My first lesson as a female: most of our clothing is not designed for speed! I hid from Joe, with shame and fear, and a thousand emotions racing through my mind. I felt a tear forming, and trickling down my cheek ... something was telling me to flee, before I fell completely under his spell.
And then I heard his voice. "Charles?" he called out. "Why are you hiding from me?" I knew that whatever had happened to me, I couldn't run away. I couldn't leave my best friend. I wiped away my tears, took a deep breath, an d slowly walked back to my friend.
"Joe?" I said, surprised to hear, my new, feminine voice for the first time.
"Who are you, Miss?" he asked.
"It's me, Charles, or at least I was until you used that magic coin." There was a look of shock, then: "Is this some kind of joke? If you're Charles, then how did I lose my sight?"
"I-I shot an arrow into your eye. We were playing William Tell." And with that I began to sob, overwhelmed by sorrow for my foolish act of so long ago, and the strangeness of what had just happened to me. Maybe, I thought, this is my punishment. Maybe this is what I get for blinding my best friend.
"Oh, God! It is you, Charles! I'm so sorry, I never meant ... " I fell into his strong arms. "Shhhh!" I told him. "How this happened doesn't matter now! Just hold me." As he cradled me against him, I immediately felt an inner warmth. All my anger and fear about what had happened to me was fading rapidly. Was this love? I guessed it had to be. What was friendship, anyway, but the foundation of love? This man who held me was strong, gentle, good and kind ... what more could I want?
"Joe?" I said, gazing up at his handsome face. "I think somehow, this was meant to be. I think we were meant to spend the rest of our lives together."
He didn't say anything. He didn't have to. He just reached forward, puckered his lips ... and I closed my eyes, and reached out to let mine meet his.
That kiss sealed our romance. We were married that summer. You say that all seemed to move very fast? Well, yes it did. But as we quickly discovered, the Wizard's power had extended far beyond my body. Only after we broke our embrace, did I realize I was carrying a purse. I opened it up, and found identification, complete with pictures, for Charlene Silvatori. When we got back to my parents' house, it seemed as if they had always had a daughter in their minds.
Dad was sitting in his favorite overstuffed chair, reading the newspaper. I could spot mom in the kitchen, making dinner. "Hi, honey, how was your day with Charles?" Dad asked. I muttered something and rushed past them.
I went upstairs to my room. Nothing was as I remembered it. The model airplanes that had hung from the ceiling were gone. There were frilly curtains on the windows. The closet was filled with blouses, skirts and dresses. Where my model-building table had sat, there was a vanity covered with makeup and a large mirror.
My bookcase had a set of Nancy Drews where my Hardy Boys had been. I saw a few dolls displayed on top, dolls that I instantly recognized as treasured favorites from ... my girlhood? But I hadn't grown up as a girl ... and yet, I had! It seemed like I now had two sets of memories ... of my life as Charles, and my life as Charlene. But it seemed that only Joe and I remember Charles.
With a bit of concentration, I found that I could access my Charlene memories fairly easily. In this life, Joe and I had known each other just as long. We had played together in my tomboy phase. In fact, I was still responsible for Charles' blindness.
But there were some important differences. We had gone through a period of estrangement right before puberty. Soon, though, we came back together ... this time as boyfriend and girlfriend. We had a couple of breakups after that, periods where we dated others (Gawd, what did I ever see in that football player?), but by the time we graduated from high school, it was clear we were on our way to a lifetime commitment.
I absorbed this all with a sense of wonderment, and ... joy. It was so sudden, so strange, and yet ... so right. No one had meant so much to me in my life as Joe.
Soon, mother was calling me for dinner. I brushed my hair and touched up my lipstick. (Strange how all this seemed like automatic, second nature now.) When I reached the table, I noticed they both looked concerned. Mother asked, "Did something happen with you and Joe, dear?" I automatically smoothed the seat of my dress before sitting down. I smiled and thought for a moment. "Yes, mother," I said. "Something did happen. But everything's fine. In fact, don't be surprised if the two of us don't end up getting married before too much longer."
They both smiled. "That's great, honey," Dad said. "I think Joe will be a wonderful son-in-law."
And that's just what he turned out to be, as well as a wonderful husband and father. And I'm sure he's going to be a proud, happy grandfather soon. I can't believe twenty-five years have passed since that magic day. Would I go back and undo things, if I had the chance? I can't imagine. Whether it was destiny, fate, or magic, I know that I was meant to be a woman ... and that Joe and I were destined to spend our lives together.
I wouldn't have it any other way.
The End