Radclyffe - Love On Call

“Yes, it’s an outpouching of the colon, a thinning of the muscle layer, which can become inflamed and sometimes rupture. Sort of like an appendix.”

Flann laughed. “Very good. You’ve been studying.”

“Some animals get them too.”

“I didn’t realize that. I’d think with their diet it wouldn’t be as common.”

“It isn’t. Dogs get it pretty often. Volvulus and other malrotations of the intestine are more common in ruminants, because of the extra stomachs.”

“Uh-huh.” Flann waved to the daughter of a local farmer who beeped the horn as she rattled by in an old pickup truck loaded down with hay. “Feels like I could use an extra stomach this morning. I’m starving. Think we should pick up some breakfast for your mom?”

“The café will be open any minute,” Blake said, a hopeful note in his voice.

“We’ll head that way, then.” Flann figured the ten-minute walk would clear the last of the churning arousal from her system and give him a chance to get to the point. A minute passed in silence.

“I want to have my top surgery before school starts. Will you do it this summer?”

Oh, boy. For one second, Flann wanted to punt. Let Abby make the decision. But Blake hadn’t asked Abby, he’d asked her. They’d have to talk, the three of them, but for right now, she was the one he’d chosen. “Let’s back up a couple steps, okay?”

His shoulder stiffened, as if he expected a rejection, but he nodded.

“First off, we’re family now. Some people would say you ought to have a different surgeon because of that.”

“Why?”

“’Cause maybe my judgment will be off because you’re extra-special to me, and my focus will be split worrying about you instead of doing my job.”

“Will it?”

“No.”

“Okay. It’s not illegal or anything. You can’t get in trouble?”

“No, I can’t. And just so you know, if I do it, I’ll get Glenn to assist. You couldn’t have a better team.”

Blake nodded seriously. “I know that.”

“Okay. So, you’ve read about it, right?”

“Lots of times, and I’ve read blogs, and I’ve seen what it looks like,” Blake said all in a rush.

“What do you mean? You’ve seen what it looks like?”

“On YouTube, guys have documented their surgeries. You know, before and right after when the bandages first come off, and then when it’s all healed.”

“You realize there’s more than one way to do the surgery, and everybody heals differently. You might not look at all like any of those guys.”

“I know. And you have to look at me to decide how to make the incisions.”

“That’s right.”

“I know all that. I know about the scars.”

“I have to say this, okay,” Flann said, halting on the corner across from the café. “It’s part of what I have to do as your surgeon, not because I don’t trust you or believe in you. Do you understand?”

Blake shoved his hands in the pockets of his baggy basketball shorts and looked her in the eye. “Okay. I get it. Go ahead.”

“Surgery isn’t like the drugs. If you stop them now, some of the physical changes in your body would be permanent, but a lot of them would go away eventually.” Flann waited, let her words sink in.

“I know.”

“This isn’t like that. There’s no going back, Blake. Once the breast tissue’s gone, it is gone.”

“I’m sure. I’ve always been sure.”

Flann nodded. “I know. And you know what else I know?”

“What?” Blake whispered, a shimmer of tears glistening on his lashes.

“Your mom is sure too. You have to talk to her about this before we schedule anything. You’re a minor, and she’s your mom.” Flann grinned. “And she’s sorta the head of this household.”

Blake laughed. “We’ve already talked about it before, some. I’ll talk to her right away.”

“Good. So what do you want to know?” Flann asked as they sprinted across the street.

“Will I have to stay in the hospital?”

“No, you can go home soon as you’re awake from surgery. It’ll take me, oh, an hour or so, but I can let you know for sure on that when I examine you.”

“Everyone will know, won’t they.”

Flann blew out a breath, her hand on the door to the café. “Probably some. Everyone who works with me in the office and in the OR will know. A few people will probably mention it to someone, but I don’t think it’ll become town news.”

“Okay.”

“Come on.” Flann pulled open the door and they waited in silence in the small room smelling of sugar and fresh dough, behind a handful of early risers at the glass-fronted counter filled with out-of-this-world concoctions. Several people greeted them in passing, giving Blake a smile or a guarded once-over. Curiosity. Small towners didn’t have a lot to talk about except the weather, births, deaths, money, and who was cheating on who. Come to think of it, that was probably the same all over. And then there were the newcomers to speculate about. Presley, Abby, and Blake were all still newcomers.

“Has anybody ever had it done before?” Blake asked as they started home with two brown paper sacks filled with bits of heaven. “Here?”

“No, not someone who’s transitioning like you, but the procedure, sure. About fifty percent of…” She paused, wanting to get this right. “Fifty percent of cis guys have what we call gynecomastia—their breasts develop at puberty. Too many hormones of all kinds floating around. Usually it’s pretty temporary, although not temporary enough for most of them. But if it doesn’t resolve by your age, it probably won’t. Surgery is an option then.”

“Man, that sucks.” Blake sounded both sympathetic and a little as if he was glad to hear about kindred sufferers.

“Yeah, they pretty much think so too. So I’ve had plenty of practice doing the procedure, although in a lot of places the plastics guys do it. I don’t know why, it’s not that complicated.” Flann grinned and Blake laughed.

“Can I go back to work right away?” Blake asked. “I don’t want to miss any time in the ER or at Dr. Valentine’s, depending on when you schedule it.”

“Five days restricted movement and three weeks limited strenuous activity. That means no lifting at all.”

Blake winced. “Okay.”

“I mean it. If you bleed, it’ll be a real pain in the ass for both of us. And your healing will be delayed. That’s the biggest problem with guys your age, keeping you from thinking you’re supermen.”

Blake shot her a look. “Bet it’s not just the guys. Remember way back when you were sixteen?”

“Smart-ass.” Flann laughed.

“When?”

“Let’s talk to your mom first, okay? And then I’ll look at my schedule and give you some dates and you can decide. We want to work it so you’re in good shape for the wedding.”

“Huh? You mean Harper and Presley?” Blake looked puzzled. “I’m not going to do anything except sit there.”

“Oh, ah…” Crap, she’d forgotten already she and Abby hadn’t told him about their plans for a wedding. Discussed it with him.

“What?”

This time she did punt. “Let’s wait till we get home and we’ll wake up your mom. Good thing we got her two of those apple fritters.”

*

At ten minutes to nine, Mari settled on the wide wooden steps of the wraparound porch of the grand mansion that had once been a family home and was now home to many. Home to her. She sipped her double espresso and watched a couple of teens ride by on bicycles, pedaling with no hands and debating some sports score. While she listened to the sounds of a summer Saturday morning—a lawnmower rumbling somewhere nearby, the distant honk of a horn, the excited barking of a dog down the street—she mused on how different this Saturday was from the others she’d spent here. She had plans. Her entire day was filled with things to do, people she would be spending time with. A hospital barbecue. That was definitely a first. She was really looking forward to it and admitted that was partly because she’d be seeing Glenn. They could be friends—they already were. And she didn’t have to feel guilty about how much she enjoyed just being with her. So she’d let herself enjoy the little secret thrill of anticipation.