A Single Moment Ch. 01

It's been a while since I posted on this site; a lot of things have made my life complicated. Nonetheless, here's a new story series that I enjoyed writing. For some of you that follow my work, I do plan on expanding some of my existing series, it might be a while, but I'll get to them.

I don't like the arbitrary voting function so I've disabled it in case you're wondering. However, I always appreciate feedback.

-Dreamweaver594

*****

AN APARTMENT LOST, A LIFE CHANGED.

Several fire engines roared down the street, their sirens screaming in the night. Fire engines always bring the neighbors out to see what the commotion is all about and Ben Waters was no exception. He grabbed his coat and rushed out the door then walked up the sidewalk to watch the apartment complex at the end of the block burn ferociously in the night, flames soared high into the night sky.

Standing nearby, a tall woman wearing flip-flops with a blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders stood watching the firemen try to bring the raging inferno under control. Tears were streaking down her cheeks.

Ben turned to her. "What happened?"

She wiped her eyes with her palms, smearing soot across her face. "The fire started in the apartment below me. They don't know why yet."

Small explosions were popping off like firecrackers. "Did everybody get out?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I hope so. I don't know."

He shook his head in dismay. "Where do you plan to stay tonight?"

"I don't know. The fire...I've lost everything"

"I live down the block in an old house I just inherited from my grandmother. You're welcome to stay there until you can figure out what to do next."

She turned to him with a shocked expression, then worry set in.

He held up his hands to caution her. "Wait, I'm not some sort of weirdo freak, if that's what you're thinking. There are four bedrooms and locks on each of the doors in the house if it makes you feel any better."

She nodded solemnly. "Thanks, I really couldn't afford a motel.

She extended her right hand, keeping her left hand tightly clasped on the blanket. "I'm Rachel Simmons, thanks for this."

He shook her hand with a smile and bent down to pick up the large bag at her feet. "Ben Waters, and you're welcome."

She followed him to his house.

That night, Rachel sat up in bed sorting the few remaining items she managed to save from the fire and wondering what sort of man Ben Waters was? Who would do something like this for a stranger, especially a stranger like her? She knew nothing about him.

She shrugged her shoulders with a sigh.

"Oh well," she muttered. All she could do was wait and see; they say actions always speak louder than words. She snuggled down into the huge bed, the new sheets smelled wonderful and felt luxurious.

In fact, the whole room was incredible, even the en-suite with the claw foot tub. Earlier that evening, she slipped into the hot water and relaxed against the back of the tub. She hadn't had a real bath in ages and this made her feel like a princess.

The room was decorated in muted tones of lavender and Ben had hung several large landscape pictures on several walls, the colors were vibrant and amazing. She wondered if the other bedrooms were as marvelous as this.

The next day after coffee, he helped her dig through the ruins of her old apartment. They found mostly small things, nick-knacks, a few odds and ends; she didn't have much to begin with. Her laptop computer was toast; the top was melted. He looked at it and pried open the bottom to see if the hard drive was salvageable. It seemed intact. He pulled it out and handed it to her.

"If you want, I can put this into a portable device so you can retrieve all the files off of it." She nodded solemnly and placed it into her bag.

"My whole life... gone...turned to ashes." She began to cry again. He put his arm across her shoulders and hugged her. She wiped her eyes with a tissue and nodded whispering a "thank you."

They went back to his home and he made another batch of coffee.

She looked up over the rim of her cup. Her eyes were glistening. "Ben, I know you said I could stay as long as I needed to, but I honestly I have no where to go. I don't have any friends or family to help me, and I'm almost out of money."

"No job?"

She shook her head slowly. "Not a lot of opportunities for a girl like me, I've tried for months."

He set his cup down on the coffee table. "What do you mean?"

"I was born a boy."

He snapped his head up. "Huh?"

"I'm sorry. I suppose I should have mentioned it to you before you offered to let me stay here. I can go if it bothers you."

He shook his head. "Go? Go where? You just said you had no where else to go."

She started to cry and tears began to cascade down her cheeks. "I don't know, I just can't take it anymore. It's bad enough to lose my family and childhood friends, but now I've lost everything! Even my pills are ruined!" She began to scream hysterically, shouting to no one in particular. "Fuck! It can't get any worse, can it?"

He moved quickly to the couch and wrapped his arms around her tightly. "Okay, okay, I never said anything about you needing to leave." He continued to hug her, slowly rocking her. "Shush, shush, shush."

Her sobs subsided and she wiped her eyes with a tissue.

He stood up and held out his hand to her. "Come on, it's still a little chilly out so you can borrow a sweater."

"Why? Where are we going?"

"There's a little Vietnamese noodle place down the block. Soup is the perfect thing to help you get back on your feet." He helped her into his sweater. It was a big, bulky knit type and it almost swallowed her up, but she was warm and cozy and it smelled of him. He pulled his coat back on and opened the door for her. She wrapped her arms around her chest and followed him down the block.

Her apartment building was cordoned off with police tape warning everyone that the place was condemned. She couldn't look anymore and glanced away.

Slowly, she was beginning to calm down.

Inside he ordered two large bowls of beef brisket with noodles and all the fixings. A half an hour later she set down her chopsticks and smiled meekly.

"See, you feel better, don't you?"

"A little, but mostly because you helped. Thank you." She paused and lowered her head. She raised her head up and looked into his eyes. "Your not weirded out by me, are you?

He smiled as he shook his head.

"Have you met girls like me before?"

"Sort of, it's a little complicated."

She smiled. "I've got nothing but time."

He nodded. "Okay."

He got up and paid the check then walked back to their table. "Let's go back to the house where I can explain it easier." He gestured around the room. "Walls grow ears."

She smiled and nodded.

They walked back to his house. He placed her hand in his and smiled sheepishly, she gave his hand a little squeeze, as if to say thank you.

When they got back, he opened the front door and ushered her into the living room then he handed her a spare key. "You'll need this."

She smiled meekly.

"I'll make tea." He walked off into the kitchen and returned in a few minutes with two cups; giving one to her.

"You asked if I've ever known a girl like you before and the short answer is yes, two of them. But not in person."

She furrowed her brow. "Huh?"

"I've known them both for many years, but only through email and message boards, as friends. In fact one of them was a great inspiration for me when I wrote several novels, offering advice and detailed information, especially about the world of BDSM, which I knew nothing about."

Rachel tucked her legs under her as she sipped her tea. "So you've never actually met them?"

"Not physically, no. One lives in Oregon and he other lives in Australia. You're my first."

"Does it bother you to know that I have a penis between my legs?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "It intrigues me, but bother me? No."

"Intrigues you? How?"

"Beyond the obvious physical questions, there are psychological ones to consider. I mean, my God woman, you must be incredibly brave to live life the way you do. I mean it's not like you decided to change your life like this on a lark." He paused a moment in thought. "I suppose a lot of people don't understand that."

She shook her head slowly. "No, they don't."

He cleaned his glasses while he ponder something. Then, he stood up. "Wait here a minute, I'll be right back." He dashed up the stairs and she sat quietly waiting.

A few minutes later, he walked calmly down the stairs and handed her a book. "It's my latest in a series that explores the transgender myth and perhaps it's the most helpful, considering what we've been talking about."

She took the book he handed to her.

"Because of where I work, I write some of my more controversial books under a nom-de-plume. It saves me a lot of explaining to those too lazy to read the books and figure it out for themselves. Read the first couple of chapters...you'll get the idea."

He turned and left her there holding the book.

The jacket cover intrigued her; she studied it for a while. It read: "A romantic story of a college professor who doesn't quite know how lonely his life has become, searching for a transgendered women to interview for his thesis project. Suddenly running into someone who makes him understand just what kind of a job he's bitten off. She propels him into far darker places than he was really ready to be taken."

Maybe she has stumbled onto someone who understands her better than she ever imagined anyone could...a true friend, perhaps? She thought about him for a moment. He was handsome and he had a cute tushy. At another time and in another situation, she might have made a pass at him.

But not now, she didn't want to jeopardize whatever relationship they were building by bringing sex into it. Yet, he did say that her being a transsexual wasn't an issue. Did that mean he was interested? No, that line hasn't been crossed yet and she couldn't risk it. Not now at least; maybe when she felt like he would be more open to the possibility. She bit her lower lip and glanced into the kitchen. God he was cute. A subtle smile crossed her face as she opened the book to the beginning chapter then settled into the pillows on the couch and began to read.

As the days passed, they found a comfortable routine. He came home two weeks later, on a Friday, and found her making dinner. It was a simple affair, a roast with potatoes, carrots, and onions but it was nice; a lot better than carryout or frozen dinners.

Between bites he looked up. "This is good, thanks. By the way, have you got any plans for Saturday?"

She smirked. "Sure, I'm being crowned the Queen of the May. Of course I have no plans, Ben." She sighed. "Why?"

He let the sarcasm slide. It must be frustrating having to sit around the house with no choice but to stew about having nothing.

"Let's go sailing."

"What?"

"Sailing, I have a little daysailer on the river. It's not much but perhaps it will take your mind off things."

She frowned.

"Come on...you'll enjoy it, trust me."

"Oh, all right, whatever," she moaned.

"Come on Eyore, It'll be fun."

That brought a half-smile as she reached to clear the dishes from the table.

"I can help," he said, picking up his dish.

"You can, but I want to do this myself, if that's okay. I spend all day re-reading the same magazine articles. This is at least something to do."

He nodded and went into the living room.

After she finished the dishes she came into the living room and flopped down on the couch. "What should I wear tomorrow?"

He glanced at his cellphone. "According to the weather report, it'll be a nice day." He turned to her. "I'd wear something you don't mind getting a little dirty like a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and maybe a sweatshirt to cut the chill if the wind picks up."

"Can I raid your closet if I come up short?"

He smiled and nodded. "Anytime."

Saturday morning Rachel sat in the cockpit looking a bit concerned. She watched as Ben untied the boat from the dock, lifted one of the sails and eased the boat out of the marina.

As he headed away from the boat slip she felt the sun on her face. It was warm and inviting and the gentle wind that teased her hair was delightful. The feeling of gliding across the open water with only the wind in the sails was mesmerizing; something she'd never experienced before.

"Sailing clears your mind." He said over the rush of wind and the flap of the foresail against the breeze. "You have the wind, the sail, and the water." He pulled on a line to change the shape of the front sail, something he called the jib, and the wind got quieter.

"If your mind is troubled and you don't pay attention, you don't go anywhere. Once your mind is clear, you begin to move forward and you can see your problems from a new perspective."

"That's rather Zen-like, isn't it?

"I never thought about it but I guess it is."

He looked ahead then turned to Rachel. "Here, you steer while I go below."

"What? I've never done this before."

"It's easy." He gestured around them. "We're almost alone today, no worries." He pointed to a small marina across the river, maybe a mile or so away. "You see that marina?"

She nodded.

"Keep the bow of the boat pointed in that direction. We're on a reach, meaning the wind is off our shoulders, pushing us sideways. So you'll just need to make a few subtle course corrections to keep things going the same way."

Her hands shook as she grabbed the tiller.

"I'll stay up here a few minutes the make sure you're comfortable then I'll go below and get us some drinks, okay?"

She nodded and held the tiller in a death grip. The boat danced across the water. The wind was steady off her shoulder and she became a touch more confident.

"You're doing great, I'll be right back."

When he returned he sat along side of her facing towards the back. He leaned against the cabin of the boat, something he called the 'bulkhead'.

He popped the caps off two bottles and handed one to Rachel. "You're on what is called a 'Reach'. Meaning the wind is coming across the boat from one side or the other and you sails are cutting into the wind like an air-foil."

"Like how an airplane wing works?"

"Exactly, it's the fastest the boat will move in relation to the wind. This is a Starboard Reach, meaning the wind is coming across from your right. The other side is the Leeward side."

She nodded, keeping her eyes on the marina ahead.

"As the bow moves away from the wind we change to a 'Run' where the wind comes across the stern, or back of the boat. The sails usually are adjusted to open wide with the main sail on one side and the jib on the other. It's often referred to as 'Wing and Wing.' You're doing great by the way."

He looked over his shoulder; they were closing on the marina.

"Okay, we're going to go into a Run, so I'll take care of the rigging. You want the bow to more to the left, or Leeward, so gently ease the tiller to the right, or Starboard."

He released the line that held the jib on one side of the boat and pulled the line opposite, at the same time he eased the line on the mainsail boom and it lufted for a moment then filled as she brought the boat more downwind. "That's right, easy does it. If you go too far the boom will swing across the cockpit and if you're not paying attention it'll bang you in the head. I speak from experience."

They headed down river. "Find a point of land as a reference and use that to keep the boat going in the same direction," he said with a grin.

She nodded and smiled. She was beginning to feel confident.

"Feeling better?"

"A lot. Thanks."

They spent another couple of hours under sail. He taught her the basic sail positions and how to avoid getting clobbered by the boom, especially when tacking into the wind.

When they returned to the pier she sat on a cushion in the cockpit, leaning up against the cabin bulkhead. She looked relaxed and beamed up at Ben "That was fun, let's do it again, soon."

He grinned as he lashed one of the dock lines to a cleat. "We will and, yes, it was."

As they walked in through the front door of the house he turned to her. "So, do you have a resume'?"

"For what?"

"To find a job silly. You said you didn't have one."

She shook her head as she dropped his sweatshirt on the couch.

"Come upstairs, my office is in the back."

She followed him up the stairs and into his office. It was probably the smallest of the four bedrooms but it was well organized with one wall completely consumed by a massive bookshelf. There were several desk chairs, although most of them were filled with stacks of papers.

"What do you teach?"

He chuckled. "College English, mostly to first years, many of whom I'm surprised that they even made it out of high school." He gestured to an empty chair. "Here, sit down."

He pivoted in his chair to her. "Okay, what are your talents?"

"You mean like hobbies?"

"Well, that's a start, we can list them if they're applicable, but what do you feel you do best?"

"Well, I think I'm good with people. I worked several fast-food restaurants back home before I transitioned."

"Cash register, food service, that sort of thing?"

"Yeah, but now I'm really into fashion."

"Okay, good. So do you have any designs or drawings handy?"

"I had mostly sketches, but they were lost in the fire."

"Could you recreate some of them? Even if they're small?"

"Maybe. I'll try tonight."

He handed her a ruled pad. "Here, list your basic information, like age, contact information, the usual stuff so I can begin to build your resume."

He spun in his chair and opened up a word processing program on his computer.

"You don't have to do this, Ben."

"I know, but right now you don't have the resources to do it yourself so I thought I'd help. Besides," he leaned back with a grin, "this stuff is fun for me."

In less than an hour he built a simple one-page resume that looked smart and professional. "Now, if you have a few sketches of your more spectacular designs you could add to this, like a portfolio, then I think somebody is going to take notice."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, her chin on his shoulder. "Thank you Ben, this is wonderful!" She stood up and turned to him. "I'll start right now."

Ben turned to a flat file in his office and pulled out a simple watercolor set, some paper, and tape. "Use these, too. Not every design has to be in watercolor, but it speeds things along sometimes."

"Where did you get these?"

"Oh, a student left them in my classroom last year. I tried to return them but she never responded, so I kept them. They're not all that expensive; the kit is maybe five bucks at Wal-Mart. The paper, although heavier than printer paper, is not real watercolor paper so you may have to iron it when you're done. I'll show you how."

She took the paper, tape, and watercolors, and then kissed him on his cheek. "Thanks." She paused at the door. "Can I use the kitchen table for this?"

"Sure, if it's okay for me to look over your shoulder."

"Of course." She scampered down the hall and disappeared into her bedroom.

Ben turned back to his computer and printed out a dozen of her resumes and put them into a folder. He brought the folder down the stairs and dropped it on a side table near the front door.

She worked the rest of the day and into the night on replacing her portfolio. Ben watched over her shoulder a couple of times as she whisked through several sketches with her brush. She really was talented, at least as far as he could tell. It was up to others to decide if they wanted to give her a chance.