Baby Talk

i CAN HELP YOU HERE....HAVE HELPED ALMOST 100 OTHER VETS. yOU can TRY CALLING YOUR SENATOR TO GET mEGAMAX, WORKED FOR VALENTINESTUFF, BUT SO FAR, EVERYONE ELSE WHO HAS TRIED THIS HASN'T SUCCEEDED. wHAT i WOULD DO IS ASK FOR A 1 WEEK SUPPLY OF EVERYTHING (ONE AFTER THE OTHER) SO YOU'RE NOT TRYING TO GET RID OF DOZENS OF CASES OF DIAPERS THAT YOU can't USE....MOST OF US EVEN RECEIVED Poise pads! Please forgive the caps...I have BIG fingers and somehow, ALWAYS hit the caps lock. Let me know IF you'd like me help, just PM me...you WILL eventually get what you want be that Megamax OR the Molicare you mentioned...but they generally make you go through everything in the VA formulary. I've done it, as have MANY others I have helped.   Kirk

Professor Google thinks of this as "circumferential sphincterotomy" and advises that it is not uncommon. Further, Prof. Google says that there is no risk to nerves because they run along the dorsal side of the penis, not the urethral side. But who knows how much Professor Google knows or understands?

Book 2 – Chapter 32: Something About a Giraffe   The whole family took the Range Rover to the airport, and Sally, sitting in the back between Oskar’s car seat and Theresa, found herself amused by how much the arrangement made her feel like the middle child. Not that she was genuinely squeezed; the Range Rover was enormous, Sally herself was not particularly large, and there was still more than enough room for her to sit comfortably with one hand resting absentmindedly against Oskar’s chest while he slept beside her, blissfully unaware of the conversation unfolding around him. “My family has grown,” Adrian observed from behind the wheel, frowning theatrically while keeping his eyes on the road. Theresa glanced toward him from beside Sally. “I’m not calling you Dad anytime soon, boss.” Bridget laughed from the passenger seat, and Sally joined her immediately. “Good to know,” Adrian replied dryly. Sally looked at Theresa, then toward her father’s reflection in the rearview mirror. “You are old enough to be her father, though. She fits the picture pretty well.” Adrian’s expression changed only slightly, but Sally could hear the smile in his voice. “You’re grounded again when you get back from Hartford.” Sally lifted her eyebrows. “For telling the truth?” “For being disrespectful to your elders,” Adrian explained with complete calm, settling more comfortably behind the wheel. Bridget merely smiled and shook her head, clearly unwilling to interfere with the sentence being handed down, while Theresa looked entirely too pleased with herself. Sally leaned back into the seat, still smiling, and let her fingers rest lightly against Oskar’s chest as the Range Rover carried them toward the airport. The whole scene felt pleasantly ordinary despite everything that was not ordinary about it, and Sally found herself enjoying the easy banter, the crowded car, and the simple comfort of being surrounded by people who had become, in one way or another, her family. -- Sally felt entirely different aboard the jet this time. Instead of sinking into the seat with the washed-out exhaustion that had followed her home from Tuscany, she felt rested, relaxed, and pleasantly hungry, enough that when Nitaya came through the cabin making the final preparations before departure, Sally smiled up at her with a small trace of embarrassment. “Sorry about last week. I was so tired I didn’t properly appreciate your food.” Nitaya looked genuinely taken aback. “Not at all, Miss Sally. I only hope you had a chance to rest this week.” “I was forced to,” Sally replied with a grin. She reached for the familiar green can of Pringles waiting beside her seat and popped the lid, restoring one of the small traditions that had somehow become inseparable from flying on the Gulfstream. Theresa appeared a moment later and dropped into the seat beside her, catching Sally already reaching for another chip. “Starting without me?” “You take too long,” Sally said, smirking. “Well, somebody has to make sure everything is all right,” Theresa replied, arching her eyebrows as she opened her own can. For a while they simply ate in companionable silence while the aircraft came alive around them, the engines beginning their low rising hum as Nitaya moved through the cabin securing the last few items before takeoff. The atmosphere was so familiar that Sally barely noticed the sequence anymore, although she did glance toward the window when the jet began moving sooner than she expected. “Drinks will be served shortly,” Nitaya promised as she turned toward her galley seat. “Quick,” Sally murmured. “Busy airport today,” Theresa explained. “No flexibility with our slot.” Outside, Bridget was still standing near the Range Rover, and Sally lifted one hand toward the window even though she wasn’t entirely sure her mother could see her through the glass. Bridget apparently could, because she waved back before finally turning toward the SUV, satisfied now that Sally was safely aboard and somebody else had assumed responsibility for keeping her medically obedient. The jet began taxiing away. Theresa checked her watch. “About eight hours. We should be in Hartford around four local time.” Sally looked at the cabin clock. “And it’s only two here.” “That’s the trick,” Theresa said with a chuckle. “Which means this is going to be a very long day for you, kiddo.” Sally already knew where this was heading. Theresa glanced toward her. “I want you in the bedroom for at least two hours before we land.” Sally frowned. “I don’t know if I’ll actually sleep.” “You don’t have to sleep the entire time. The point is to rest properly.” “I’ve been resting for a week.” “And you want to go to Charlie’s birthday tomorrow.” Sally pressed her lips together because there was no useful response to that. Theresa continued in the same matter-of-fact tone. “Get into bed, blinds down, diaper on, and make an effort to switch off for a couple of hours. If you sleep, great. If you don’t, you still rested.” Sally’s eyes widened slightly at the casual mention, and she glanced instinctively toward Nitaya, who was already strapped into her galley seat and calmly checking something on her phone as the aircraft rolled toward the runway. Theresa caught the look and gave her a small grin. “Relax, kiddo.” Sally rolled her eyes and reached into the Pringles can again. “You have become disturbingly comfortable managing my life.” “Temporary medical authority.” “You invented that.” “I did.” Sally shook her head, but the smile remained as the Gulfstream continued toward the runway, the engines rising steadily behind them. For the first time in days, travel did not feel like another demand being placed on her body; it felt like something she was ready for again, provided she accepted that being ready still came with conditions, supervision, and, apparently, a mandatory afternoon nap somewhere over the Atlantic. -- Once the jet had leveled off, Sally and Theresa settled into the rear of the cabin with the table between them, the low hum of the engines filling the background while the Atlantic disappeared beneath the cloud layer. Sally had her Pringles within reach, Theresa had already commandeered one of the water bottles, and the whole arrangement felt comfortably familiar enough that the trip itself no longer carried any tension. “Patricia will be waiting for us at the FBO in Hartford,” Theresa began, slipping naturally into briefing mode. “Quiet dinner with the Selters tonight, and tomorrow you have absolutely nothing scheduled until the birthday party in the afternoon. Michael and Sandra are making an effort because you’re coming, so there’ll be a group from Charlie’s school and another from church. They hired a barbecue chef, so apparently the plan is pool, food, and whatever else happens once teenagers are turned loose in a backyard.” Sally smiled. “And Sunday, church.” Theresa gave her a look. “Sunday church, assuming you behave Saturday and don’t decide that feeling good means you have permission to spend six hours pretending you aren’t recovering.” Sally pressed her lips together around a smile. “I’ll do my best.” “That is not exactly reassuring.” “It’s the best you’re getting.” Theresa accepted that with a faint shrug before shifting the conversation. “Clara is coming?” Sally nodded. “Maddie too. Charlie made a point of inviting my friends as well, which I thought was nice.” “It sounds like it’s going to be a pretty big group,” Theresa said, then paused. “And both girls are doing well?” “Yeah. Clara has changed a lot, but in a good way. It’s hard to explain. She just seems like she has more purpose now, like things matter differently to her.” Theresa nodded slowly. “And Maddie?” Sally’s expression softened. “She’s still struggling physically. She had a couple more surgeries on her right leg, so it’s been a lot of two steps forward and one step back, but the drums have been good for her.” Theresa looked interested. “The drums?” “Yeah. Long story.”  The quiet that followed was comfortable rather than heavy, and Sally found herself thinking how often that had been true in her own life too, how recovery rarely belonged to one person alone. Before the thought could settle too deeply, Nitaya appeared from the galley carrying a tray of snacks arranged with enough care to immediately attract Sally’s attention. Her eyes widened. “What did you do, Nitaya?” Nitaya smiled, visibly pleased with herself. “Some new things for you to try.” Sally looked at Theresa. Theresa looked at the tray. Then both of them leaned forward at once. -- It was only after Nitaya had cleared the table and disappeared back toward the galley that Theresa gave Sally the look she had apparently been waiting to use. Sally had relaxed far enough into her seat that one shoulder rested against the window frame, her posture loose and comfortable while her attention drifted somewhere beyond the glass into the immense blue-white sky outside. She looked peaceful rather than tired, which was exactly why Theresa chose that moment to intervene. “Time for your siesta, kiddo.” Sally glanced over, already knowing there was no point pretending not to understand. After a brief pause, she nodded and slid out of her seat. Theresa checked her watch. “Two hours.” “I’ll do my best,” Sally murmured, stretching as she stood. Before she could take more than a step, Theresa held out one hand. “Phone.” Sally stopped and frowned. “Seriously?” “Zero distractions. I’ll keep it for you.” “That feels excessive.” “It’s called supporting your recovery.” “It’s called confiscation.” Theresa only kept her hand extended. Sally stared at it for another second before reluctantly placing the phone in her palm. “Bossy,” she muttered. Theresa smiled as she tucked it away. “Sweet dreams.” Sally gave her one last mildly offended look, but there was no real resistance left in it as she turned toward the bedroom, already accepting that Theresa had won this particular argument before it had even started. -- Once the bedroom door closed behind her, Sally slipped out of her jeans and underwear, then paused for a moment before deciding there was no point keeping anything else on just to sleep. She reached into her backpack for the diaper she had packed, tugged it free, and immediately noticed that a booster had already been folded neatly inside it. Sally stared at it for a second before shaking her head with an amused grin; she had not seen Bridget put it there, but there was no doubt whose handiwork it was. “A little much, Mom,” she murmured. After nearly a week of heavily reinforced nighttime protection, Sally suspected the booster was less a medical necessity than one of Bridget’s quiet little jokes, a maternal reminder that she had noticed exactly how seriously her daughter had taken the Rest Project. For a two-hour nap, though, Sally decided the diaper alone was more than enough, so she set the booster aside, climbed onto the bed, and fastened the diaper comfortably around herself. Only then did the absurdity of the situation occur to her properly. She was lying on a full-size bed in a private bedroom aboard her father’s Gulfstream, somewhere around forty thousand feet above the Atlantic, preparing for a medically mandated afternoon nap in a diaper. Sally looked around the cabin and smiled to herself, because there were moments when her life became so strange that the only reasonable response was to enjoy the joke. She pulled an oversized lightweight hoodie from her bag, slipped it on, then lowered the blinds until the bedroom disappeared into a soft artificial twilight. The hoodie and diaper were comfortable enough that she felt no need for anything else, and once she had climbed beneath the blankets and settled into the pillows, the whole cabin seemed to shrink down to little more than the muted vibration of the aircraft and the dark around her. Mission: sleep. Sally closed her eyes and let her breathing slow, already beginning to drift when she suddenly remembered that she had never stopped at the bathroom before coming back. Her eyes opened. She considered getting up. Then she looked toward the bathroom door, thought about Theresa confiscating her phone specifically so she would stop finding excuses not to rest, and decided the whole point of the diaper was to make this sort of thing irrelevant. She settled back into the pillow and allowed herself to relax completely rather than interrupting the nap before it had even begun. Within minutes, the warmth around her bottom, the jet, the cabin and the entire Atlantic crossing seemed to disappear around her as Sally finally drifted off, comfortable in the knowledge that for the next two hours there was absolutely nothing she needed to do. -- Sally blinked awake and turned instinctively to the bedside clock, mildly surprised to discover that she had slept for just under two hours. For once, Theresa’s insistence had apparently worked exactly as intended. She felt clear-headed rather than groggy, and after lying still for another minute she finally pushed back the blankets and went through the slow little ritual of making herself presentable again. The hoodie and diaper came off, she cleaned herself with the absurdly soft wet wipes stocked in the jet’s bathroom, then pulled on her underwear, jeans and T-shirt before checking her hair in the mirror and deciding that she looked sufficiently human to rejoin civilization. When Sally stepped back into the main cabin, rested and alert, the Gulfstream had been dimmed into its twilight setting, with the window shades lowered and the lighting softened enough to make the interior feel almost detached from time. Theresa was stretched out on the sofa, deeply asleep, one arm folded beneath her head, and Sally paused long enough to smile before deciding that the woman who had spent the entire week making sure she rested was entitled to a little of her own. Nitaya spotted her from across the cabin and smiled. “Coffee, Miss Sally?” Sally nodded immediately. “Please.” A few minutes later she was standing near the galley with a fresh cup in hand, talking quietly with Nitaya while the aircraft hummed steadily around them. What began as a simple exchange about the flight turned into stories about holidays, family and places they had both visited, and Sally found herself enjoying the ordinariness of it. Nitaya had known her long enough that conversation never felt formal despite the constant “Miss Sally,” and there was something reassuring about slipping back into these familiar rhythms after the strange week of being watched, fed and ordered to sleep. Eventually Sally drifted forward toward the cockpit, where Captain Henderson and First Officer Gruber greeted her with familiar nods. “How was the week?” Henderson asked. “Resting,” Sally admitted, leaning lightly against the doorway. “I had a much more intense vacation than I realized.” Henderson glanced toward Gruber with the beginning of a smirk. “Yes, I heard our landing into Zurich last week seemed smoother than usual.” Sally laughed immediately. “I was out like a stone. You could probably have landed on a farm and I wouldn’t have noticed.” “We’ll take that as a compliment,” Gruber said. “It is. Your landings are always smooth, so I suppose sleeping through one just proves the point.” Henderson nodded gravely. “That is exactly how we will record it.” Sally grinned and looked through the windshield at the vast blue ahead. “Half the fun of these things is the landing anyway. You guys make them feel like nothing.” “The aircraft helps,” Henderson said. “So does having very good pilots.” “That also helps,” Gruber agreed. Sally sensed movement behind her and glanced back as Theresa appeared, still slightly sleepy, squeezing into the space behind her. “Are you annoying the crew?” she asked. Sally raised one eyebrow. “My assistant was asleep on the sofa. Someone had to check operations.” Theresa gave her a look. “You are incorrigible.” “So I’m told.” Theresa leaned against the opposite side of the doorway and studied her. “Sleep well?” Sally shrugged with deliberate understatement. “As well as one can in a double bed, with magic blackout blinds, while floating above the clouds at forty thousand feet.” That earned a laugh from both pilots. Theresa shook her head, smiling despite herself. “Terrible hardship.” “Exactly.” For a few minutes they remained there together, Sally sipping her coffee while the cockpit instruments glowed quietly ahead of them and the Atlantic stretched far below, and for the first time since leaving Zurich she felt as though the trip had fully settled into itself.  She was rested, she was hungry, she was going somewhere she genuinely wanted to be, and nobody in the cabin seemed particularly worried about her anymore. -- They still had nearly three hours of flying ahead of them, which no longer felt like an inconvenience now that Sally was rested and comfortable. She stretched out along the sofa, turned on the television and quickly settled into one of the small luxuries she had come to appreciate since becoming a regular passenger on the Gulfstream: with Starlink aboard, there was very little difference between being forty thousand feet above the Atlantic and sitting in a particularly comfortable living room. Theresa dropped onto the sofa beside her, and after a few minutes of indecisive scrolling Sally stopped on a travel documentary. Nitaya appeared almost immediately with drinks and another tray of snacks, apparently determined that nobody aboard would reach Hartford remotely hungry. “Faroe Islands?” Theresa asked as the opening aerial shots filled the screen. Sally leaned forward slightly. The scenery was almost absurdly beautiful: steep green hills falling toward dark water, villages tucked beneath cliffs, waterfalls spilling directly toward the ocean, and narrow roads disappearing through landscapes that looked nearly untouched. What caught Sally’s attention almost as much as the scenery, however, were the roads themselves, smooth ribbons of asphalt winding across empty hillsides with hardly another car in sight. “That looks fun to drive,” she said with a dreamy grin, already imagining the bends rather than merely admiring them. Theresa turned toward her. “Looking for your next vacation?” Sally shook her head. “Not a vacation.” “No?” “A hideout.” Theresa smiled. “There’s a difference?” “Definitely. Vacation means you’re supposed to do things.” Sally gestured toward the screen. “A hideout means you can disappear for a while and still be productive when you feel like it, then stop when you don’t. Hike if the weather’s good, read when it rains, work a little if there’s something interesting, then go outside again.” Theresa studied her for a second, amused. “That sounds suspiciously like Dr. Huber has affected your philosophy of life.” “Don’t tell her.” “Never.” A long sweeping shot followed the road along the edge of a cliff, and Sally’s attention returned immediately to the screen. Theresa noticed. “I assume the hideout also requires transportation.” “Obviously.” “Something sensible?” Sally shrugged. “Maybe.” Theresa waited. Sally grinned. “Maybe a spare Lamborghini.” “There it is.” “Or a Ferrari.” Sally considered it more seriously. “I really like Amélie’s 296.” Theresa laughed and shook her head. “You have very grand plans for hiding.” Sally lifted her eyebrows. Theresa gestured around the cabin. “Says the rich kid planning an island hideout from her private jet.” Sally looked around as though only then remembering where they were. “True.” “Very true.” “So true,” Sally agreed, settling deeper into the sofa with a dreamy smile as the documentary carried them farther into the green hills and empty roads of the Faroes. For the next few minutes neither of them said much. Sally simply watched, imagining rain against windows, books stacked on a table, long empty roads and nowhere in particular she had to be, and found herself thinking that perhaps the most appealing thing about the fantasy was not the Lamborghini, the Ferrari or even the dramatic landscape. It was the idea of having nowhere else to go. -- Sally sighed and settled back into her seat, the table once again between her and Theresa as the last hours of the flight slipped by. “I almost feel bad we’re not heading to Florida,” she said. “I’d like to take you out in the Lamborghini.” Theresa looked amused. “Girl, the time will come when we’re not limited by age or location.” Sally frowned slightly. “What do you mean?” Theresa leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table. “You’re still sixteen. You’re still driving on a learner’s permit. For now, that means somebody has to be with you, schedules have to line up, and there are still plenty of things you simply can’t decide on your own. That changes soon. In November, you’ll have your full license and you won’t need a babysitter every time you want to drive somewhere. Then, once you’re eighteen, you’ll have your own income, your own freedom, and a lot more control over how you use your time.” Sally made a thoughtful face. “I’ll be very happy about the driving part. Eighteen, though…” She paused and looked out the window for a moment. “That scares me a little.” Theresa smiled, not surprised. “We’re easing you into it.” Sally looked back at her. “That’s why you have me,” Theresa continued. “And Olivia. And Elena.” “And Jana,” Sally added. Theresa grinned. “You’ll get plenty of Jana once we’re back in Zurich. She’s probably counting the days until she can put books in front of you again.” “I’ll be ready.” “She’ll ease you into it.” Sally raised one eyebrow. “You sound very confident.” “I am. I’ll make sure of it.” “You’re going to protect me from Jana?” Theresa laughed. “Not protect. Coordinate.” “With my doctor, you mean.” “With your doctor, your father, your mother, Jana, Olivia, Elena, everybody who loves you enough to have an opinion.” Theresa gestured lightly with one hand. “The idea is to make sure everyone’s expectations fit with what you actually need and what you actually want, instead of all of them piling on at once.” Sally considered that for a moment. “That sounds… complicated.” “Not really. It’s family relations.” “That sounds even more complicated.” Theresa smiled. “You manage the people around you so the person in the middle still has room to breathe.” Sally gave her a sideways look. “You’ll need the instincts of an ambassador.” “Ten years with the Marines helps,” Theresa replied. “Negotiation skills.” Sally tilted her head, studying her with fresh appreciation, then nodded once. “Good.” Theresa smiled. “Good?” “Good that you’re on my side.” Theresa’s expression softened just slightly. “Always, kiddo.” -- Meeting Charlie was getting easier, Sally thought with a private smile as the Gulfstream descended toward Bradley International, slipping over Springfield and bringing with it that brief, unavoidable moment when the landscape below became more than scenery.  Somewhere down there was the place where, a little over a year earlier, everything had changed, and although Sally no longer felt the sharp physical reaction that had once accompanied the memory, she still gave the area a quiet moment of recognition before letting her attention move on. There was no reason to dwell on it today.  She was rested, healthy again, and coming back to Hartford for something ordinary and good. She ran the weekend through her mind as the aircraft continued its descent. She would be staying with the Selters until it was time to return to Zurich, and even the slight awkwardness she used to feel about sleeping under Charlie’s roof had softened considerably. The downstairs guest room helped, giving her enough privacy and practical independence that she never had to feel as though the household was adjusting itself around her, and Theresa’s presence made the whole arrangement even easier.  Patricia had promised to collect them from the FBO, which meant she would be waiting when they landed, and Sally had quietly assumed Charlie would tag along as well, probably under the excuse that he wanted to see the airplane. Saturday morning and early afternoon had been left completely blank on purpose, which looked almost comical on Sally’s calendar after the weeks she had just survived. The birthday party would not begin until later in the afternoon, and Sunday held only church if she continued feeling well enough to go.  There were no meetings, no errands, no sightseeing, and no attempt to turn the visit into something more productive than it needed to be. It was exactly the kind of weekend Dr. Huber had permitted, and Sally found herself looking forward to it more than she expected, mostly because she was impatient to see Charlie. Only Charlie wasn’t there. Once the Gulfstream touched down and taxied toward the FBO, Sally’s attention remained fixed outside, searching the apron almost automatically for the familiar sight of Charlie with a camera pointed toward the jet and that shy expression that always seemed to say he had only come for the airplanes and hoped nobody would think he was being a nuisance. She smiled at herself for expecting it so confidently, then frowned slightly when the aircraft rolled to a stop and there was still no sign of him. Patricia was waiting inside instead. The greeting was quick and warm, with Patricia pulling Sally into a brief hug before immediately leaning back and inspecting her with the same unmistakable concern everyone had adopted since hearing about her collapse. “I’m alive,” Sally said, rolling her eyes, although the spark in them made it clear she was not genuinely annoyed. “Just making sure,” Patricia replied with a slight frown before looking toward Theresa for independent confirmation. “She slept on the plane,” Theresa said. “She’s fine.” Sally turned slowly toward Patricia with her eyebrows raised. Patricia nodded, apparently satisfied. “Good.” Then she motioned toward the exit. “Charlie’s stuck at home. Extra chores, and he wanted everything done before you got there. At some point he realized that getting the backyard ready for tomorrow meant you would not be helping him.” Sally made a face. “I’m starting to feel like an invalid.” “Enjoy it while it lasts.” Outside, Patricia’s burgundy Bronco Sport was waiting near the curb, and Sally brightened immediately at the sight of it. “Nice.” Patricia grinned. “Better than the convertible. I can actually go places now.” Theresa supervised the loading of the bags into the rear while Sally walked around the Bronco once, appreciating it with the reflexive interest she gave almost any car she had not seen before. When the luggage was settled, she climbed into the front passenger seat beside Patricia while Theresa took the back. “I like the two-tone,” Sally said, glancing up at the roof. “Black with the burgundy? Classy.” Patricia smiled as she started the engine. “Thanks. Even Charlie likes it. He just warned me not to get the black wheels.” Sally nodded approvingly. “Good choice.” -- Charlie was still nowhere to be found when Sally stepped into the house, which she tried not to find disappointing even as her eyes instinctively wandered toward the staircase. “Sally,” Sandra said warmly, pulling her into the sort of motherly embrace Sally had long since learned to expect from her. She leaned back afterward and studied her face for a second. “You look… great.” The tiny hesitation did not escape Sally. “Thanks,” she said, making a face. “I’ve been resting all week.” Michael greeted her next with his usual half hug and a firm hand against her shoulder. “Welcome, Sally. You really do look great,” he said, with enough emphasis to make it clear that he had also heard rather more about the previous weekend than Sally would have preferred. Theresa, apparently deciding that Sally’s medical reputation required official clarification, stepped in before anybody could worry further. “She has rested almost too much for her own good, although she still needs to take it easy.” Sandra smiled and turned toward Theresa, giving her a brief hug as well. “And how are you?” Sally immediately smirked. “Well, that’s a whole interesting subject—” Theresa reached over and swatted her lightly on the top of the head. “Respect your elders, Sally.” “Excuse me!” Sally turned toward her in mock outrage, but whatever comeback she had prepared disappeared when movement on the stairs caught her attention. “Charlie.” The name came out with a tiny hesitation she could not quite hide. “Hey.” Charlie stopped near the bottom of the stairs, looking exactly as though he had only just realized how quickly he needed to become presentable. “I was getting changed. I was doing chores outside.” His blond hair had been hastily combed back into its usual short spikes, his face looked freshly washed, and he had clearly exchanged whatever he had been working in for a clean T-shirt while keeping the same shorts. He came down the final steps, and Sally reached toward him almost automatically, giving him a light hug that felt easier than it would have a few months earlier. Charlie leaned back and looked at her. “You look fine.” Then he blinked, realizing how that sounded. “I mean, you said you were exhausted and everything.” Sally smiled. “Yeah. Thanks. I had a lot of rest this week.” “Cool.” He smiled back, and for a second the two of them simply stood there until they became aware that virtually everyone else in the room was still watching. Theresa rescued them first. “Well, I’m going to leave you guys to it. I’ve got a couple of errands, and then I intend to disappear into my hotel.” Michael looked toward her. “You know you were more than welcome to stay here.” “I know, and I appreciate it,” Theresa replied with her usual pleasant practicality. “But I’ll be fine.” Charlie glanced toward her. “I hope you come to the party tomorrow.” Theresa raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t bring a gift.” Charlie chuckled, slightly taken aback. “It’s a no-gift party.” Theresa’s grin appeared immediately. “Well, I know somebody who didn’t get that memo.” Sally’s eyes widened. Charlie tilted his head toward her. Theresa gave Sally’s arm a quick squeeze before she could retaliate. “See you tomorrow, kiddo.” “She talks too much,” Sally muttered as Theresa retreated toward the door. Charlie smiled, while Sandra and Michael became occupied with walking Theresa outside to the Uber waiting at the curb. “I don’t mind if you brought a gift,” he said quietly. Sally looked at him. “I’ll give it to you tomorrow.” “Deal.” The awkwardness had already begun to dissolve again, and Charlie glanced toward the back of the house before looking at Sally. “Wanna come out to the pool? You could at least put your feet in before dinner.” Sally shrugged, the smile returning easily. “Sure.” And with the adults occupied and Theresa finally gone, she followed him toward the backyard, relieved to discover that seeing Charlie again was becoming easier every time. -- Sally rolled the loose legs of her jeans up to her knees and sat on the shallow edge of the pool, lowering her calves into the water until the coolness climbed comfortably over her skin. Charlie sat down beside her a little more carefully, as if the nearness itself required some thought, and for a few seconds they both looked toward the water rather than at each other. “Are you really okay?” he asked at last, his uneasiness obvious enough that Sally turned toward him immediately. “Mostly, yeah,” she said. “I still feel a little slow sometimes, like I’ve run a marathon or something, but it’s nothing like it was at the beginning.” Charlie nodded, though he still looked uncertain, and Sally could tell he was searching for the right question without wanting to make her feel examined again. “I sort of crashed physically,” she continued, helping him out. “Too many things, too much travel, and I never really stopped long enough to recover, I guess.” “You were on vacation,” Charlie said with a small frown. Sally laughed. “I was, but I wasn’t exactly propped up in a hammock reading Jane Austen.” That made him grin. “But you had fun.” “I did.” Sally’s laugh came easily this time, bright and genuine. “I had a blast.” Charlie relaxed enough to sit straighter and lean back on his hands. “You looked amazing on that jet ski. Was Otto trying to make you fall off?” “He was, and that was half the fun. I knew what he was doing, though. He took me for the ride of my life.” Charlie smiled, then looked away toward the far end of the pool. “I liked the picture they printed of you standing on the deck.” Sally made a face. “I was talking to you on the phone.” “I know.” His smile deepened. “That was cool.” For Charlie, it had been more than cool. The photograph had made him feel, in some strange and private way, as though he belonged inside that moment, because while the whole world saw Sally Weiss standing on a yacht beneath the Mediterranean sun, he knew she had been talking to him. He would never admit that he had saved the picture on his phone or that he looked at it more often than he should, not yet anyway, and certainly not while she was sitting this close. “Your hair has grown,” he said after a moment. Sally ran a hand through it, pushing the shaggy ends back from her face. “Yeah. I’m trying to decide whether to cut it again or just let it grow.” Charlie pressed his lips together and studied her with more concentration than the question probably required. “I think you should cut it.” Sally looked at him. “Just to keep the look a little longer,” he added quickly. “For the summer.” A grin spread across her face. “So you like it?” Charlie beamed before he could stop himself and nodded. “Yeah. I think it makes you look…” He hesitated, searching for a word that would not sound stupid. “I don’t know. Carefree, I guess. Bold.” Sally felt the warmth rise into her cheeks and was suddenly very glad he was looking at her rather than the water, even if that made the blush impossible to hide. “Thank you, Charlie,” she said softly. “I think I’ll cut it.” Charlie nodded, pleased in a way he tried not to show too much, and smiled back at her while their feet moved lazily through the water. -- Dinner was quiet and intimate, with only the Selter family and Sally gathered around the table, and the conversation wandered easily from the birthday preparations to school, travel and the family’s upcoming vacation. “Last holiday before I’m back to college,” Patricia said with a grin. Sally looked up with immediate interest. “Where to?” “Nantucket. Until the end of August.” “I hear it’s nice.” Charlie made a face. “It’s quiet, but yeah, it’s nice.” “You’ve had plenty of activity this summer,” Michael pointed out. “Peace and quiet won’t hurt you a bit,” Sandra added in the unmistakably maternal tone that suggested this particular opinion was not open for negotiation. “I appreciate peace and quiet,” Sally said with a chuckle. Patricia nodded with exaggerated seriousness. “I noticed.” The table broke into laughter, and Sally joined in easily, though once the conversation settled again Sandra’s attention returned to her with suspicious precision. “Speaking of peace and quiet,” she said, raising her eyebrows, “I hope you didn’t just stifle a yawn.” Sally gave her a guilty look. “It’s past midnight for me.” “That means an expedited bedtime,” Sandra replied gently. “I hope you don’t mind.” Sally shook her head. “Nope. I’m cool with that. I’m getting sleepy anyway, and I’d rather behave or Theresa will somehow hear about it and have me shipped back home before breakfast.” Michael chuckled and checked his watch. “We won’t tell her anything as long as you’re in bed within thirty minutes.” Sandra rose to begin clearing the dishes, and Patricia stood as well, giving Sally the kind of look that made it clear she was expected to follow. Charlie glanced at Sally with a small expression of solidarity. “I guess I’ll see you in the morning.” Sally smiled and shrugged. “Good night, Charlie. Good night, everybody.” “Good night,” Michael said. Sandra paused before carrying the plates away. “Patricia will make sure you’re settled. You’ve stayed here before, so you know you can make yourself at home, okay?” Sally nodded. “Thanks, Sandra. I will.” She followed Patricia out of the dining room a moment later, still feeling the warmth of the evening around her and quietly relieved by how easy the Selters had become to be around. -- Patricia did, in fact, make sure Sally was properly settled for the night, although “making sure” mostly consisted of sitting cross-legged in the middle of the guest bed while Sally unpacked what she needed and moved around the room getting ready. “Charlie left something under your pillow,” Patricia said casually. “I think it’s some sort of payback for the time he stayed at your place in Miami.” Sally stopped. Her eyes widened. “What?” Patricia only smiled. Sally stepped toward the bed, lifted the pillow, and immediately pressed her lips into a thin line as her brow furrowed. There, neatly hidden underneath, was a diaper. Not just any diaper. Sally picked it up and unfolded it almost automatically, studying the design with a kind of fascinated disbelief. It was mostly white, but the front panel had the unmistakable face of an animal peeking cheerfully over the waistband. “A giraffe?” she murmured. Patricia chuckled. “PeekABU.” Sally looked at her. “He said he got a similar treatment when you promised to make sure he had protection at night in Miami. Something about elephant diapers?” Sally’s head snapped up. “He told you?” Patricia shook her head. “Not exactly. I saw the used one when I checked his room after the trip to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. He’d stuffed it into that tiny bathroom trash can, and I teased him about it.” Sally stared at her. “What did he say?” “He basically shrugged like it was nothing, which ruined the whole point of teasing him.” Patricia grinned. “Then I bought him a pack of these, and he didn’t complain nearly as much as I expected. When he found out you were coming, he said he was leaving one for you.” Sally looked back down at the diaper in her hands and let out a slow breath. “Well.” Patricia waited. “I’m going to wear it.” Her smile widened. “But he does not get to see me wearing it.” “Exactly as it should be,” Patricia said with exaggerated wisdom. Sally shook her head, still holding the diaper as though she had not quite decided whether she found the whole thing ridiculous or brilliant, then gathered her pajama shorts and T-shirt and disappeared into the bathroom. Curiosity won almost immediately. She had never tried this particular brand before and wanted to know whether Charlie’s revenge had at least been practical. The fit turned out to be almost perfect, although once the tapes were fastened they covered enough of the front panel that the giraffe looked as though it were peeking out from behind them. Sally studied herself in the mirror with her hands on her hips and began to smile. “Oh, that is stupid.” The smile widened anyway. She pulled her pajama shorts over it, only to discover that the waistband sat low enough for the top of the diaper to show slightly above them, along with the giraffe’s head. Sally laughed softly. “That’s even worse.” After brushing her teeth and pulling on her T-shirt, she stepped back into the bedroom, where Patricia was still waiting. “See?” Sally lifted the hem of her shirt just enough to show the waistband. “Now you can tell Charlie you saw the giraffe peeking out.” Patricia burst out laughing. “You two are ridiculous.” Sally lowered her shirt again, grinning. “And adorable.” Sally’s cheeks warmed despite how comfortable she felt around Patricia. “Don’t.” “I’m serious.” “Do not tell Charlie you said that.” Patricia held up one hand. “Only if you don’t tell him I told you.” “Deal.” Sally chuckled and climbed into bed, still shaking her head at the whole thing, though the grin on her face made it obvious that Charlie’s little act of revenge had worked considerably better than she intended to admit. -- When Sally woke, she needed a few seconds to understand where she was. The room was familiar enough to feel comfortable but unfamiliar enough to confuse her in that first hazy moment, and only after shifting beneath the blankets and staring toward the window did the pieces settle into place: Hartford, Charlie’s house, the downstairs guest bedroom.  She reached for her phone and blinked at the time. Seven in the morning. Early, perhaps, but not by her standards, and a quick calculation made her realize she had slept almost eleven hours again. The thought triggered a sudden flash of concern, and she checked the diaper almost instinctively, bracing herself for another overfilled morning only to discover that it was only moderatly wet.  Relief came first, followed almost immediately by amusement when she remembered that this was Charlie’s diaper, the ridiculous giraffe still hidden beneath her pajamas after having performed its job perfectly well. Her phone was otherwise quiet, except for a single message waiting from Charlie.   Charlie: Up early. Feel free to join me for breakfast. Cereal, for now. The good stuff.   Sally smiled immediately. Hunger arrived almost on cue, and for a moment she considered whether she should go through the whole morning routine first, shower properly, change, dress, and emerge looking fully put together.  Then she decided that sounded unnecessarily ambitious for seven in the morning. She kicked off her sleep shorts, pulled on a pair of loose lounge pants that comfortably concealed the diaper beneath them, left on the oversized Key West T-shirt she had slept in, and ran her hands through her shag until it looked less like she had just spent eleven hours rolling around on a pillow.  A quick wash of her face helped, and when she checked herself in the mirror again she decided she looked presentable enough for cereal. She stepped quietly out of the guest room and made her way toward the kitchen, moving with the slight hesitation that came from being awake in somebody else’s house before most of the household had surfaced.  Charlie was already there, sitting casually on the counter with his phone in one hand and a cereal bowl nearby, and when Sally saw him she felt an immediate warmth settle over her. The house was still quiet around them, and for the moment it was only the two of them in the kitchen, awake before everyone else and sharing the soft, private beginning of the day. -- Charlie looked up from his phone when Sally appeared in the kitchen, and the almost automatic smile that crossed his face made her glad she had decided not to bother with the full morning transformation before coming out. “Morning,” he said, sitting a little straighter on the counter. “Sleep well?” “Too well.” Sally wandered farther into the kitchen, trying not to crinkle, still waking up properly. “Eleven hours. I almost feel guilty about it.” “No, that’s cool. I’m glad you’re back to normal.” Charlie slipped down from the stool and crossed toward one of the cabinets. “The good cereal is over here. Mom usually insists on healthy stuff during the week, but today…” He hesitated, and Sally caught the tiny flicker in his expression before remembering what day it actually was. She smiled and stepped toward him. “Happy birthday, Charlie.” Before either of them could make the moment unnecessarily complicated, Sally wrapped her arms around him in a light hug. Charlie stiffened for perhaps half a second before returning it, and when they separated his grin had gone slightly crooked. “Wow,” he murmured. “Thanks.” “Fifteen, huh?” Sally looked him over as though something might visibly have changed overnight. “How does it feel?” Charlie shrugged. “I’ve been almost fifteen for so long that actually being fifteen feels kind of unreal.” “Well, now we’re only one year apart,” Sally said, smiling as she remembered how much the gap had bothered him when she turned sixteen in May and left him stranded, as he had jokingly described it, at fourteen. “One year and three months,” Charlie corrected immediately as he reached into a cabinet for another bowl. Sally laughed. “Of course you calculated it.” “I know dates.” “Sure.” Charlie opened another cabinet and gestured toward the cereal selection with an exaggerated flourish. “Birthday privileges.” Sally scanned the boxes until her eyes landed on one that made her grin. “Reese’s Puffs.” “Patricia’s favorite,” Charlie said approvingly. He set the box beside the milk and handed Sally a bowl, and she climbed onto the stool beside the counter, settling herself comfortably before reaching for the cereal. Charlie glanced toward her, then suddenly seemed to notice something, his eyes widening before he bit his lip and looked away with an expression that was far too deliberate to go unnoticed. Sally raised an eyebrow. “What?” “Nothing.” Charlie frowned at the counter, then tried again. “I just… you’re still…” Sally understood, and the awkwardness disappeared almost as quickly as it had appeared. “Wearing the diaper? Yeah.” She said it quietly and matter-of-factly as she poured cereal into the bowl, and Charlie offered a small, embarrassed grin. “I hoped you liked the surprise,” he said, his face beginning to redden. “Patricia said you were okay with it.” Sally bit her lip to keep from laughing and nodded. Then, mostly because his embarrassment was becoming adorable, she turned slightly toward him and lifted the hem of her oversized T-shirt just enough for the top of the diaper to show above her lounge pants, along with the ridiculous giraffe still peeking out from the front. She dropped the shirt again almost immediately. Charlie’s eyes widened. “Oh.” For a moment neither of them said anything, though Sally could feel herself smiling as she reached for the milk. “Patricia got them for me as a joke,” Charlie eventually explained, quieter now. “I still…” He hesitated, searching for wording that sounded less significant than it felt. “Sometimes I still need them. Not exactly need, I guess. They’re just safer. The doctor says I’m growing out of it.” Sally nodded without the slightest trace of judgment, stirring her spoon through the cereal. “I stopped for a while too, mostly. Then it came back a short while ago. Stress, apparently.” Charlie nodded, and that was it. No sympathy, no interrogation, and no need to make either of them feel unusual. Sally took a spoonful of cereal, decided Reese’s Puffs fully deserved their status as birthday breakfast food, and allowed the conversation to move somewhere else. “So,” she said, turning toward him, “how’s pilot training?” Charlie’s expression changed immediately, the awkwardness giving way to something easier. “Pretty good. I thought I’d have to stop when school started again, but Dad was so happy with my grades that he said I could keep doing it as long as they stayed where they are.” “Good job.” Sally sounded genuinely impressed. “Thanks.” Charlie shrugged, almost embarrassed by praise. “I’m just good at it, I guess.” “At school or flying?” Charlie made a face. “Both?” Sally laughed and nudged his arm lightly with her elbow. “I guess I’ll be calling you Captain Selter soon enough.” Charlie shook his head. “Not professionally.” That caught her attention. “No?” Sally turned more fully toward him. “I always sort of imagined you flying a 787 or something.” “I’d love to fly one,” Charlie admitted, “but I don’t think I’d want that as my job. I love airplanes. I just like other things too.” Sally studied him for a moment, suddenly aware that she had spent plenty of time learning what Charlie liked but much less time asking what he actually wanted from his life. “What do you like, Charlie Selter?” He smiled at the deliberate use of his full name. “Besides maybe owning a TBM 960 someday?” “Besides that.” Charlie pressed his lips together, thinking about the answer rather than simply throwing something out. “Finance. Economics.” That surprised her enough that Sally leaned slightly closer. “I’ve always been good at math,” he continued, “but lately I’ve gotten pushed into the deep end a little, and I realized I actually like it.” “How?” “Mostly Dad’s work. He practices law, obviously, but so much of what he does is business-related.” Sally nodded. “I know. He and my dad work together quite a bit. He does things for the Foundation too.” “Right. And then Patricia started pre-law, which taught me two things.” Charlie held up one finger. “First, I’m pretty sure I don’t want to be a lawyer.” A second finger followed. “But I started getting interested in the finance side of everything. Then school did a unit where we actually used math for financial stuff instead of just doing equations because somebody said we had to, and that was kind of an eye-opener.” “For me too,” Sally said softly. Charlie looked toward her, and something about the answer seemed to remind both of them that this was one of the places where their otherwise very different lives overlapped naturally. “So I guess that’s my future,” Charlie said after a moment. “Finance, economics, and planes.” “Not airliners.” “Not as a career.” His grin returned. “I reserve the right to fly something ridiculous for fun.” “I approve.” “Good.” Sally smiled into her cereal, oddly pleased by what she had learned. Charlie had always seemed inseparable from airplanes in her mind, and discovering there was another part of him—one involving numbers, markets, business, and a future he was only beginning to imagine—made him feel somehow more interesting rather than less predictable. “Morning, lovebirds.” Patricia’s voice came from the hallway with such effortless older-sister satisfaction that both Sally and Charlie turned toward her at once. She was already fully dressed for the day and stood in the doorway surveying the scene with raised eyebrows: Charlie beside the counter, Sally finishing a bowl of Reese’s Puffs in her oversized Key West T-shirt and lounge pants, and the two of them apparently far too comfortable for Patricia to resist commenting. Sally wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and slid off the stool. “I guess I’ll get changed.” “Yeah,” Patricia said, chuckling. “Good idea.” Sally passed her on the way toward the guest room, and the soft bulge and crinkle beneath her lounge pants only made Patricia’s eyebrows climb higher. Sally gave her a warning look but could not entirely suppress the shy smile that had already found its way onto her face. Behind them, Charlie suddenly became extremely interested in finishing his cereal. Patricia watched Sally disappear down the hallway, then glanced toward her brother, whose concentration on Reese’s Puffs had reached almost scholarly levels. She smiled to herself and, for once, decided to let him live. -- A quick shower was enough to make Sally feel ready for the day, at least in the civilized sense, and she chuckled to herself as she rolled the used diaper tightly, fastened the tapes around it and squeezed it into the bathroom trash can before turning her attention to what she actually wanted to wear.  She chose her faded tight jeans and green camouflage T-shirt, casual enough to look effortless even though, as she caught herself studying the combination in the mirror, she realized with a faint quickening of her heartbeat that her informal style around Charlie was becoming rather carefully curated. She wanted to look like herself, only perhaps the version of herself she most wanted him to see. From her suitcase, Sally retrieved the birthday present Patricia had been keeping for her, already wrapped in pleasantly understated paper, along with the manila folder she had packed flat beside her laptop so nothing inside could bend or crease.  The bought gift had been easy enough once Patricia confirmed Charlie did not already own one, but the contents of the folder had taken considerably more thought, several attempts, and more research than Sally cared to admit. Looking at both now, she decided there was no reason to wait until the party, when dozens of people would be around and the moment would inevitably become less personal. Morning suited it better. When she returned to the kitchen, Patricia was making coffee while Charlie complained quietly that his parents were somehow still asleep on his birthday. He stopped halfway through the complaint when Sally walked in, looking her over for just long enough that she noticed, though neither of them commented on it. “I got something for you,” Sally said, setting the wrapped box and the manila envelope on the counter in front of him. “Open the box first.” Charlie leaned back slightly and raised his eyebrows, while Patricia came over and handed Sally a mug of coffee before settling nearby with obvious interest. Charlie peeled the wrapping away and turned the small package in his hands. “PlaneTag,” he said, recognition dawning almost immediately. “I’ve heard about these. Is it really…” He looked up. Sally smiled over the rim of her coffee mug. “From a real DC-10. American Airlines, N125AA.” Charlie stared at her. “You memorized the registration.” “It says it on the card.” “That doesn’t explain why you memorized it.” Sally shrugged, trying and failing to look indifferent. “Details matter.” Charlie grinned and turned the piece over again, studying the little fragment of aircraft skin with the kind of attention Sally had been hoping for. “Now open this,” she said, nudging the manila folder toward him. Charlie set the PlaneTag down carefully and opened the flap. He slid the paper out, unfolded it, and then went completely quiet. Sally watched his face rather than the drawing. “You drew this,” he said at last. There was genuine amazement in his voice. “It took me a while to get right,” Sally admitted, smiling thinly. “There was more research involved than I expected, and a few false starts.” Charlie held the page up more carefully, then turned it so Patricia could see. Sally had drawn a DC-10 on final approach, gear down and descending toward the runway, with the old American Airlines markings rendered in pencil and the registration matching the aircraft from which the PlaneTag had been cut. The perspective had taken her several attempts, particularly the angle of the wings and landing gear, but the finished drawing had the precision Sally wanted without looking technical or sterile. “Sorry there’s no color,” she added. “I couldn’t figure out how to make the livery look realistic without ruining it, so I stayed with pencil.” Charlie shook his head slowly. “No. It’s perfect.” Sally looked at him. He glanced back down at the picture. “How did you know I liked the DC-10?” Sally shrugged again, though this time the gesture carried a little more self-consciousness. “I guessed. You had one as your computer wallpaper for ages.” Charlie looked up with a grin that made it obvious she had guessed very well. “Spot on,” he murmured. “I’m definitely framing this.” He studied the drawing for another second before looking at her again. “Did you sign it?” “On the back.” Charlie turned the page over. In one corner, neatly written in pencil, were the initials SPW, followed beneath by a simple message:   For Charlie. Happy Birthday.   He read it once, then again, and when he looked back at Sally his smile had softened considerably. “Thank you, Sally,” he said quietly. “This is awesome.” Sally smiled into her coffee, trying not to look too pleased with herself and failing almost completely. -- Michael and Sandra finally surfaced not long afterward, both looking pleasantly unhurried and amused by Charlie’s repeated insistence that they had slept through an unacceptable portion of his birthday.  Sandra kissed him on the cheek despite his mild protest, while Michael handed over a couple of neatly wrapped gifts that Charlie opened at the kitchen table with Sally still nearby, coffee in hand and enjoying the easy family atmosphere.  There was a new aviation book from his parents, a compact flight bag he had apparently been hinting about for months, and a smaller box containing a watch strap Patricia immediately declared boring, though Charlie seemed pleased with it. When Charlie turned toward his sister expectantly, Patricia only lifted one hand. “Mine comes after lunch.” Charlie narrowed his eyes. “Why?” “Because I said so.” “That sounds suspicious.” “It should.” Sally laughed softly, and Patricia pointed at her. “Don’t encourage him.” “I’m not. I’m observing.” Charlie shook his head and returned to examining the gifts already in front of him, while Sally watched the little pile grow around the PlaneTag and her drawing, quietly pleased that hers had already found a place among the things he clearly intended to keep. -- “Just checking on the patient,” Theresa called from the entrance as Patricia held the door open and waved her inside. “I’m not a patient,” Sally retorted from the living room. Theresa followed the sound of her voice and appeared a moment later, visibly pleased by what she found: Sally comfortably settled on the sofa with Charlie beside her, turning through the pages of his new aviation book while the two of them talked quietly.  They were close enough to be clearly enjoying each other’s company but not so close that either seemed self-conscious about Sandra and Michael moving in and out of the kitchen nearby, and Theresa took in the whole scene with one raised eyebrow before focusing on Sally. “Nice to see you looking well rested.” Sally frowned at the phrasing. “Eleven hours.” Theresa made a face that suggested even she found that impressive, then finally nodded. “Good.” Her gaze moved briefly from Sally to Charlie and back again, catching enough of the atmosphere to understand that she had interrupted nothing more dangerous than two teenagers discussing airplanes under parental supervision. She tilted her head slightly. “So, what are the plans for today? I have a car…” she offered, stretching the last words just enough to make them sound like temptation. Sally looked up from the book with a faint frown. “Can I actually go out?” “If I say so,” Theresa replied. “You look rested, Sandra confirms you slept eleven hours, and apparently you ate a decent breakfast, which means I have some room to be generous.” Sally rolled her eyes slightly. “Yeah, well…” Then something occurred to her, and she straightened. “I need to do my hair. For the party.” The hopeful look that followed was impossible to miss. Theresa narrowed her eyes playfully. “And maybe buy new clothes while you’re at it?” Sally shook her head immediately. “No. Just the hair. I wouldn’t mind browsing the mall a little, though. Nothing specific.” Charlie chuckled beside her, and Theresa noticed the reaction. “Care for a ride, kid?” she asked him. “You can wander around the mall while Sally gets her hair done. Bookstore, electronics, whatever keeps you entertained.” Before Charlie could answer, Patricia appeared from the kitchen with suspiciously perfect timing. “Yes, take them away,” she said. “There are party logistics to deal with, and I’ve apparently been instructed to find an excuse to get Charlie out of the house.” Charlie turned toward her, offended. “Get rid of me?” Patricia shrugged. “Temporarily.” Theresa folded her arms and looked at him. “All right, Charlie. Your options are to stay here and mope about being excluded from mysterious birthday preparations, or come with us and browse the mall while Sally gets her hair done.” Charlie frowned for a moment, clearly trying to maintain some dignity in the face of being openly managed by his own family, but the resistance did not last long. “Sure,” he said finally. “I’ll go to the mall.” Sally smiled and closed the aviation book, though she found herself glancing toward Patricia with growing curiosity. Whatever was going on behind the scenes, everyone seemed far too pleased about getting Charlie out of the house, and she suspected the birthday party had already become considerably more complicated than anyone was admitting. -- Sally came back from the guest room with her Freitag bag slung across one shoulder and found Charlie waiting near the entrance in cargo shorts and a clean T-shirt, his short blond hair looking as though he had made a deliberate effort to keep it under control without wanting anyone to notice. Theresa noticed, of course, though she said nothing as she ushered both of them toward the waiting SUV. Sally’s face brightened the moment she recognized the black Suburban at the curb. “Hugo!” The older driver stepped out with an immediate smile. “Miss Sally. I was looking forward to seeing you. You look excellent.” Sally crossed the short distance and hugged him warmly. Hugo had been the one to drive her to the airport on the morning of the crash, and later, during the long weeks she spent recovering in Hartford, he had become one of those familiar figures whose presence quietly marked the distance between what had happened and the life she had managed to reclaim. “Alive and kicking,” Sally said with a chuckle. “And looking much better for it.” Theresa waved Charlie and Sally toward the rear seats while she climbed into the front beside Hugo. “Westfarms,” she said. Hugo nodded and pulled away from the curb. Charlie looked out the window for a moment. “I haven’t been to the mall in forever.” “Well, I’m sure you’ll find plenty of things to keep you busy while I get my hair done,” Sally said, smiling. “Maybe.” “Probably.” Charlie glanced toward her. “That confident?” “I’ve seen bookstores before.” He laughed softly, and Sally settled back into the seat, enjoying how easy the conversation had become now that neither of them seemed quite as concerned about saying the wrong thing. By the time the Suburban pulled beneath the covered entrance at Westfarms, she was expecting Theresa to follow them inside, perhaps find somewhere nearby to work while keeping one eye on Sally’s medically restricted afternoon. Instead, Theresa turned around in her seat. “Here you go. I’ll be back around two, so behave.” Sally blinked. “You’re not coming?” Theresa raised her eyebrows. “And spend two hours babysitting a pair of teenagers in a mall? I have errands.” Charlie was already opening his door. Sally looked at him, then slowly back at Theresa. “Was this planned?” Theresa’s mouth twitched, and for a second Sally caught the grin she was trying to suppress. “Not by me,” she said, slipping smoothly into her most professional assistant voice. “I’m helping with party logistics.” “Right.” “Vera is expecting you.” Theresa glanced theatrically at her watch. “In seven minutes, actually.” Sally narrowed her eyes. “Theresa.” “Scoot.” Charlie had stepped onto the curb and was waiting beside the open door, looking amused but wisely choosing not to participate. Sally pressed her lips together, shook her head, and climbed out after him. The Suburban pulled away almost immediately. She watched it disappear into traffic before turning toward Charlie. He looked at her. She looked at him. Neither said anything for a moment. This did not feel like a date. It felt like an ambush. Which, Sally decided as Charlie held the mall door open for her and smiled, might actually be worse. -- “Did you know?” Sally asked once they were inside the mall, glancing sideways at Charlie as they walked. Charlie kept his hands in his pockets and gave a small shrug. “Sort of. I knew Theresa offered to help with the party and that she had errands, but you know how she is. Big-sister vibe and all that.” Sally eyed him for a moment, unconvinced but amused enough not to press the issue, and they continued along the corridor together in an easy silence that felt more comfortable than awkward. “I shouldn’t take too long,” she said after a while. “Just a cut, nothing dramatic.” Charlie nodded. “I’ll probably do some window shopping. Maybe check the bookstore.” “Text me when you settle somewhere.” “I’ll send you my location.” Sally smiled, suddenly a little shy again. “Deal.” They slowed outside the salon, and for a brief second neither seemed quite ready to separate, as though the strange almost-date quality of the morning had become more obvious now that they were about to go in different directions. “I’ll find you when I’m done,” Sally said. “I’ll be around.” She gave him one last smile before turning toward the salon entrance, and Charlie continued down the corridor while Sally stepped inside, already wondering what he would think of the haircut when he saw her again.  

No, you are right, it is not "gone" as in removed. It is cut completely through. The sphincter itself is like rubber band connected to the ischiopubic rami on each side and going over the urethra. When tight it closes it. If you cut it, you cut the rubber band so it cannot close anymore. As I understand it, it will pull down to the sides where it is connected because if the "tightness" in it, so a full cut through will basically cut the rubber band and remove all function. Removing the muscle completey is very hard or near impossible and it also has important nerves going through it so nobody would attempt that I think.

@oznl: I’m not sure why this didn’t properly flag you…