Chapter 2

It was daylight when I awoke. Sunshine bathed me as I swam to the surface and rejoined the living. For a few seconds I forgot all the trauma, pain and freaky things that happened to me.

Then it all came rushing back.

I must have jerked because the women was right there holding my hand, talking to me comfortingly. Once I realized where I was and remembered the basic facts, I turned my head and spoke to her.

"Hi," was all I could manage but it seemed to make her very happy. My first thought was how tired she looked and how attractive. Why couldn't I meet and fall in love with someone sweet like her, instead of Rosemary's lesbian baby?

'Where did that come from, ' I thought? But it was true. She had a gentle beauty that made it incredibly pleasant to look at her. Black mid length hair, not styled, just cared for, nice teeth to go with a winning smile and her expression had just a hint of mischief that made me want to know her better.

"Oh. Hello darling," she breathed. "I am SO Glad you are back among the living. You had me so scared I didn't know what to think. One minute we're talking about the new house, my new job and your new school, the next you're unconscious and the entire side of the van is crushed in, and you are bleeding almost in my lap.

That awful truck crossed three lanes and creamed that little car before swerving again and again, then smashing into us. I thought it was going to be much worse.

Much Worse."

Clearly I was in her son's body. A mother knows her own child, so it was time to try and piece the major facts together.

"Where are we? How bad is it? When can we go home?" That seemed like the best way to start. Maybe I can wool gather enough to fake it until I know how to behave.

"Oh, Baby. We are at a hospital in Springfield.

Been here since yesterday afternoon. You were unconscious for the last 12 hours but the doctor said that's because of the IV. It knocked you out pretty good and allowed them to do all the tests. MRI, CAT, EKG, and I don't know what else. The good news is, other than a hard bang on the head, and a lot of little injuries, you seem to be fine.

The truck did a number on our car. I'm sure the insurance company will have to total it. The driver of the truck is fine but the man in the other car died while the doctor was working on you. I could hear them in the other room trying to keep his heart going but nothing seemed to work.

Because of the concussion, they kept you quiet all night but if things are OK today, we'll be on our way home.

How do you feel, sweetheart?"

How Did I Feel?

I felt Dead!

I mean dead, as in no longer alive.

Really Truly Dead. R.T.D.

I was R.T.D. How nice.

Gone but not forgotten, except in my case, I was definitely forgotten long before I died.

That's when I realized there was no one for the police to call and notify. Not a soul. How pathetic. I was bummed out about being dead, sad to realize how I had wasted my life and depressed that I couldn't tell anyone.

Not only am I dead, but I'm also not dead.

In fact I'm so NOT dead that I'm alive in the body of a young kid.

That's when I realized that the boy who owned this body was dead – R.T.D. and I was alive - but he wasn't.

That thought made me squeamish.

I had to get myself under control, or I'd be a mental patient by noon. The best thing to do was take command of the situation and try to make the best of it.

Right? Sure. Check Aye! Not a chance. I was scared. Really scared.

I needed to at least try to seem normal and answer, so I said, "I'm sore, my head hurts and my whole body aches but I feel like I need to move around some. Everything is so fricken stiff, I feel like I'm gonna break in half, or something.

Is there anything to eat in here? I am so hungry and please find me a drink of water. I could drink a gallon and still want more."

She – my mother – sort of, I guess, breathed a deep sigh and said, "Now I know you're going to be all right." Her laugh was part giggle, part sigh and totally captivating. Maybe being her "son" wouldn't be so bad.

A doctor bustled in, took my pulse, checked my chart and asked a few questions. He asked if I knew what day it was what city I was in and other things to insure I wasn't brain damaged. One thing I discovered from his questioning was my name. Apparently I was now and maybe forevermore known as Brian Morse. Assured I knew the day, month and year, the fact that George W. Bush was president and that we were currently in Missouri, the Show Me State - Go Tigers - he informed us he would sign release papers as soon as he got out to the main desk.

He kept telling me how remarkable it was that I could be released considering the condition I was in when they got me to the hospital. "Honestly, son. You died on the emergency room table and a few minutes later, we were ready to send you up to a room. Do you have any idea how rare that is?

You need to understand how unusual this whole thing is. Your head injuries were severe and I wondered if we had any chance of saving you. The next thing your heart stops and we were just about to call Time of Death when your heart started back up and beat just fine.

I have no idea what happened but the human body is many times more complex than medical science can explain, so we just chalked you up as one of those amazing things that happen in life.

You need to do something wonderful with your life, because you shouldn't be alive."

That was sobering and added to the burden I felt for hijacking some teenage kid's body on the way to hell, or wherever God was gonna send me.

It looked like I was going home, whatever that meant. Going home brought on a whole new kind of anxiety. I had no idea where home was, who I was, other than a name, when I was born, where and to whom, or anything else important to know about oneself.

My original plan was going to have to suffice. I would listen a lot, ask leading questions and pay attention and see if I could pull it off. Otherwise a rubber room might be next stop and I needed to be on top of my game to avoid that.

As I pondered the vital questions about myself - my new self - as the doctor filled my mother in on things to avoid, look for and how active I should be for the next few days, or so. He reminded her that I was going to extremely sore for days, as the impact affects would continue to hound me. He told her to check my bruises and take me to the doctor he referred me to, if the pain was more than I could reasonably be expected to stand, or if she noticed me having any difficulty breathing, eating, or going about my daily activities.

I tuned back in when he talked my brain scan. "Mrs. Morse. Your son Brian's brain scan showed a high level of activity. It's as if his brain is working top speed, even when he was sedated. Everyone's brain works a little differently. Currently, Brian's is operating at a faster pace than we would expect to see and could be significant but could be nothing.

That might be simple to explain. The shock to the system from a bad accident could – let's say - spin things up in the head. Sometimes the same trauma could deliberately slow it down, but you might have a very bright child on your hands.

Time will tell but be aware of his performance in school and general cognitive abilities. If he is one of the special kids, with very high IQ, he might become so bored at school that his teachers will mistake his exceptional intelligence for ADHD and try to convince you to medicate for it.

However, the high level of activity may calm down as soon as he starts to completely get over the trauma of the accident. Either way, you would be smart to keep an eye on his development." They returned to the basic doctor mom topics and I tuned him out, once again.

It would be nice to discover I was super smart, though.

Knowing mothers, I didn't need to pay much attention to the pre-release lecture, because she wouldn't let me forget a thing he said.

The first really uncomfortable moment came when my new mother decided she needed to help me clean up, use the bathroom and dress. I finally convinced her I could shower, brush my teeth and dress without her help, but not without promising to call her the instant I felt weak, or faint, or, as she put it, "funny." The hot water revitalized me and when I stepped out of the shower to dry myself, I got my first look at the "new model."

'Not too shabby, ' I thought. Good posture, a fair muscle tone and an average build to go with a good sized dick, all of which inordinately pleased me. I'd have to give it a trial run later. The bruising from the crash was starting to turn pretty ugly but bruises fade. I could see the worst of it running down my right side all the way past my hip, to about the halfway point between knee and ankle.

My face hurt. Well, pretty much all of me hurt but the side of my head hurt the worst. Experience told me it would be worse before it got better, so I needed to suck it up and deal.

Clean, brushed, combed and gargled, I presented myself to my new mother, trying to minimize the effects of the soreness and avoid limping as I favored my right side.

I guess this is what it feels like to be adopted, or as close as I'd ever come.

My ensemble consisted of blue jeans (I was going to have to do something about this kid's taste in clothes), ugly blue tee shirt and sneakers. Twirling slowly for her inspection, I got another precious giggle and the sweetest smile. I don't know about the kid, but I was willing to do anything to get her to smile like that again and again.

She was going to have the perfect son. As fast as I knew what triggered those smiles, she would get it.

When we finally finished signing out, we were picked up by a local taxi and taken to a nearby luxury hotel where my (apparently) new mother had reserved a room until we could get transportation figured out.

When we had our key and were behind closed doors, I could see the effects of the last twenty-four hours. I watched her brake down - in stages. First she shook herself, like someone trying to forget what just happened and go on, then her voice quivered as she asked me how I was really feeling. Finally the lack of sleep, trauma, fear and worry took its toll and she cried like a baby.

Tears were something I was familiar with. My ex had spent months crying as she struggled alone with conflict about her sexual identity. Never willing to share her confusion with me, she bottled it up and cried on my shoulder at all times of the day and night for months leading up to our divorce. Losing my marriage to another women was something I didn't see coming, but it did prepare me to deal with tears and I hugged my new mom, walked her to the nearest king sized bed and cuddled her until she cried herself out.

She seemed to respond to my soft words and softer hands, as I stroked her hair, back and sides. When she started to talk, I hit the mother lode of information about us. "It was hard enough when your dad left us for that tramp at work. When we had to sell the house to keep from losing it, I knew we'd be OK. Getting the new job in Branson was a God send and I just knew things were turning around for us, Brian but when that truck crashed into the side of the car and I saw your head jerk so violently, I thought you were dead. The way your head snapped to the side and hit the dash, I don't know how you survived. My heart stopped when you collapsed against me. I held you so tight and willed you to live, afraid you slip away and I didn't know how I could go on, alone."

I realized that that must be when the two of us switched bodies. He probably died on impact and somehow, I took over his body on the way out of my own.

"When you started to jerk and raised up only to fall over, my heart started again. If you were able to move, you were able to live. You have no idea how I grieved while you were unconscious and when they said they were losing you in the emergency room. But then it was like you healed all at once and the doctors got busy, then they started to argue about you not being nearly as bad as they thought. It was like a miracle when everything changed.

It had to be a miracle, because here we are and we're going to be OK. I promise.

I know you're mad because we had to move and leave your friends and school and everything else, but I promise, it will all work out. Just give it a little time and love me enough to try and I promise it will all be fine." Her face said so much more than her mouth. I could seriously fall right into those lips and never come back. I was going to have to be really careful around my new mother.

She wasn't finished. "I know you were hurting because your dad left us both, not just me. It is inconceivable that he let you move away without so much as a phone call wishing you well and saying goodbye. I am so sorry, baby. I'll make it up to you. You'll see." She held my face in both hands and looked right into my soul as if she was praying that I'd agree.

Chapter 3 »