Chapter 48: Talking TD I

After finishing my aborted grooming, and dressing in my jeans and hoodie outfit, I decided to leave the sandals in my pack with my other things. My feet had yet to feel any discomfort from walking barefoot, and I’d rather save my new nice looking sandals for walking in and out of places of business where I might not want to appear bare footed, not just for a bit of a walk.

A glance confirmed nothing had been left behind. Leaving the room I was slightly saddened about forsaking the very comfortable bedding. While I hadn't noticed feeling particularly tired over the last few days, the comfort of the bed, and the couches downstairs, were quite enticing.

Slipping through the dim light in the hall and on the stairs, I descended quietly and noticed that the fire was not lit in the hearth. There was low light over the dining area, and stronger light leaking from the cracks in the doors to the kitchen. Loosing my pack so it was only slung over one shoulder I quietly approached the kitchen door, catching the scent of warmth, hot oil and butter slipping through the cracks.

Pushing through the swinging doors another memory snapped through my mind: slatted swinging doors leading between a kitchen and small eating nook, a short older lady, though taller than me in my memory, with close cropped grey hair, walking through those swinging doors with a plate of something. ‘Coffee cake’ a part of me supplied as the memory lady set it on the table. ‘Grandma’, I labeled through the haze of sugary baked goods in my memory and my present.

As the memory passed I was suddenly in the kitchen, not nearly prepared to say farewell to the brown haired baker, and kisser, before I left for an unknown amount of time.

Billie was shaping some dough, stuffing a paste of some sort inside, and placing the shaped forms into small loaf pans which were arrayed in front of her. I saw her in profile and a smudge of flour was streaked against her arm, highlighting how she had kept the rest of herself tidy.

Without a glance in my direction she spoke in a professional tone. “Breakfast service won’t be available for at least another hour. If you have need of something now, it’s 3 brass for an apple, or 4 for one of yesterday’s pastries.” Her eyes darted over towards me and widened when her eyes met mine.

“Hi Billie. I… I don’t want to interrupt, but I was curious when Ann, and maybe Buckle might be down? I mean, I want to chat with you until they are, and maybe help you if I can. But…” I quieted down when I saw Billie smirk before focusing on their work.

“That outfit looks very huggable. Maybe when I’m done with my work, if it isn’t a problem? Ann and Bernie will be down in half an hour, not sure about Buckle. We can chat, but I’ve work I can’t stop… Grab an apron and start on the dishes? We can talk while we work, if that’s okay.” Her hands continued to shape the little loaves and I saw there was a fair pile of things that required attention in the sink.

Setting down my pack, out of the way under a workbench, I pulled off my hoodie and hung it up, trading it for the largest apron I could find to wear over my dark grey shirt. Starting in on the stack of pans and bowls it took a couple minutes before hitting a bit of a groove in my washing. Eventually I found the words I wanted after Friday prompting me only twice. “So… You know I don’t have many memories? Pretty sure I mentioned it… Anyhow, the few memories I’ve experienced from before a few days ago had me being a child with smaller hands and they weren’t grey…”

“Okay… That doesn’t seem unexpected, honestly, Monday. Not sure I’ve seen kids with your skin tone, mostly pink, brown or fuzzy.” The sink I was using had Billie and I standing perpendicular to one another, glancing to the side occasionally as we spoke.

“I suppose, but sometimes when I see my skin, everything feels… wrong. My head buzzes, my… I feel… woozy? A hint of nausea, or vertigo washes over me and it happened this morning. It didn’t happen yesterday, the God’s Bath spirit may have… patched it up for a day? Uh…”

Almost half a minute passed before Billie responded. “I mean, you feel what you feel. You seemed fine when we were in the bath the other night… Is it… always? No, not always… How often does it happen?”

I laughed quietly and sniffed as the humid warmth from the sink bathed my face. I scrubbed a small bit of stuck crust and sugar from a pan. “It sneaks up on me, and I was… Distracted? No, more that I was occupied in the bath.” I caught the slight grin out of the corner of my eye as I kept washing.

Billie placed the loaf pans in the oven, and walked behind me, placing her hand on my bare upper arm, lightly squeezing. “That sounds really distressing, Monday. Hard to imagine, but not feeling right in your body… Ugh. Well, not so hard to imagine I guess.” Billie moved her hand to my back, as if reassuring me that she was still there. “I had really tiny boobs for a while, then suddenly at harvest when I was 14 they, like, they… they were just suddenly this size. Only a month or two passed and just, bam. And my back hurt, and Ma made me get new clothes, and people would look… But it was over weeks.” She sighed and I felt her forehead press against my back before her arms wrapped me and gave me a light hug around my waist. “But it was weeks, and not sudden like days.” She clung tighter for a moment before I felt her warm breath close, her face under my shoulder blade for a moment as she let me go. “They felt like they were not… me. Is that it? Is that close?”

Washing dried dough from a bowl rim, I ignored a drip of salty water into the sink as I nodded. “Not… not, not me, but not the me that is expected? I guess? Expected by those memories? I’m sure it isn’t the same, but close enough that you have… I feel like you're empathizing, which is to be honest, it’s more than I might have hoped to have.”

There was a hint of a chuckle from near the sizzling fryer, Billie laying hoops of dough into the oil and turning them carefully. “You're lovely, but I’ve been a 12 year old girl and I know being attractive to someone means less than nothing if you’re feeling poorly, or even a smidge off, about yourself.”

The moisture from the warm washing water in the sink made me sniff. “Thank you, Billie.”

“Monday March, I think you might have wanted to talk with Ann and Buckle about this, rather than me.” A sizzle rose from the fryer. “I’m glad you told me anyhow.”

“Me too, thanks for listening, Billie. You really… you…”

“Nothing to say, really, Monday. Making out or not, you’re my slightly less worldly friend. And a good friend listens, and cares even if they maybe don’t understand.”

“Not sure how to thank…” I was interrupted.

“There isn’t a thanks needed, my giantess. I’m being a friend.” I felt the grin in her voice rather than seeing it. “And maybe a prospective lover? For now, a confidante at least, I hope.”

“Right now? All that, Billie…” But I let the words die as I heard footsteps on the stairs.

Ann’s voice was full of mirth as it rampaged in my ears and over my scalp. “I don’t even want to know what you did to get Monday to do dishes this early, Billie.” Hearing a sharp chuckle from Buckle made it rather obvious he found it funny as well.

“Nothing Ann!” I may be acquiring an ability to hear the eyerolls of others, pretty certain that if I were looking Billie’s scraped the ceiling as she responded to her boss. “We were just talking since she was waiting for you two.”

Ann’s mirth bubbled into a full laugh. “Of course, no other way she could have a flour print of your face on her back than… just talking.”

Maybe Billie hadn’t been quite as tidy as I’d thought.

Cutting through his sister’s laughter, Buckle walked over to me. “What ya wanna talk ta us about ‘nuff to be doin’ dishes afore dawn, Monday March?”

With fewer salty drips than earlier, I told Ann and Buckle a little of what I’d been feeling. Sharing Bluebird’s comments about it likely being passing, but I’d heard it might be smart to talk with folks. Especially folks who might have had some personal familiarity with physical changes.

While they got more serious, it wasn’t grave talk serious, but concern that almost had me adding more salt to the dishwater. “So, yeah. I’ve got these feelings, and was thinking maybe either of you might have felt something… Something close? Or have thoughts about how to not feel like this?” Pretty sure I kept despair out of my voice, but some distress leaked as I felt Billie wrap her arms around my stomach and press her face into my back again.

Buckle patted my arm as Ann peeled Billie off me and chased her back to the fryer. Less laughter and more good nature in her voice. “It sucks, Monday. But I think both Buckle and I understand, at least a little. It sounds a lot like Transformational Dysmorphia. Sit down at the table and talk with me. Buckle, can you start shredding stuff for a pair of hash ‘n bakes? Seems like a day for simple and hardy.”