“Ow! Hey what was that for?”

Angélique frowned and pointed with her fork at mine.

“What, I’m eating! I’m not allowed to eat?”

Angélique pointed at herself and then took a knife and daintily cut a small piece of beef and then skewered it with her fork before eating it. I waited patiently till she was done, then did the same, only making my portion a little larger. Angélique groaned. I cut that portion in half. Another groan… I angrily cut it in half once again. No groan this time. I wolfed the piece down.

“You eat like a pig? Do you understand this? Oink oink. Pig!”

Apparently my hunger was a crime here. I dropped the fork and grabbed the meat in my hand and took a bite out of it like a chicken leg. “Oink” I said keeping my eyes locked with hers. She sneered and cut up her piece the same way she had before. I put down the beef, wiped my hand on a napkin and ate the same way I had before with my slightly larger chunks. I’d made my point; I’ll eat how I want.

The remainder of dinner was held in silence. The only noise came from my chewing as noisily as I could. It put Angélique in a brooding mood, so I decided not to taunt her further. When we were done, my conscience got the better of me and I felt a little guilty so I was kind enough to bring my plate up to the sink and do our dishes.

To make up for lost ground, Angélique made up for any dinner frustrations with my language lessons. We began with an emphasis on assigning masculine and feminine tags to French words. She was drilling relentlessly because I didn’t comprehend it all. To me it’s ridiculous to assign gender to an inanimate object. I mean why refer to Lady Crack Pipe or Good Sir Dishrag when neither one looked any more female or male then the other?

After a solid hour, Angélique wandered upstairs rubbing her temples and looking like I’d just put her through slow torture. It seemed like there were two levels of feeling towards me. Either she was mad and frustrated, or she was worried and pitying. I heard the bathroom door shut. The noise of the door echoed in my head a bit. I sat looking at the books a little longer till something dawned on me. I was alone. For the first time since I’d woken up in Angélique’s house, I was under no supervision… My eyes shot to the door and found it unguarded.

I put down the books nervously, and tip toed to the door. I knew that Angélique would go nuts if she knew I was going to do exactly what she didn’t want me to, but so what, she wouldn’t believe my case, so I was going to prove it. There was bound to be some evidence left on that back road.

I left the house and started to run. My shoes weren’t much of a help, so I kicked them off in Angélique’s front path and ran barefoot. I had a decent grasp of the town now. I knew if I followed the road to the main hill, I could take the split and run out the back of town to that vineyard. The last thing I remember in my male life was walking from that horrid place and then, well you know what happened after that.

“Alouette? Could you come up here?” Angélique asked. There was no answer. “Alouette?” she asked again a little louder. She began to feel a small twitch in the pit of her stomach, like the absence of reply was signaling something wrong. She went downstairs a little faster then usual, and found no one in the living room. Angélique ran for the phone.

I rounded the split street in a rush. I knew it wouldn’t take long for Angélique to realize my absence and figured she’d react as rashly as she did with everything. It was kind of dark now, and there really was not a lot of activity. A lot of the houses had their lights on, and I could even make out some music from one place, but there wasn’t much in the way of people or cars milling about.

I made it to the outskirts of town, and the streetlamps got farther and farther apart and then not at all. I knew I was close. I could make out the vague impression of the vineyard on the skyline. I stopped my jog and started to root through the side of the road. I’d had a good amount of stuff with me when I was a guy; I’d had a backpack and my books which I’d dropped, and my clothes and hat. Some of it had to be around here somewhere.

I eased my way down into the ditch and started to root around in the dim light. It wasn’t impossible to see, but it wasn’t easy to make anything out either.

“Is there nothing here?” I asked after I’d rooted around for a little bit. I felt sure I’d find something of mine. Some little scrap of who I’d been. I climbed up and out of the ditch. Still no sign of a book or paper, then my foot connected with something. I reached down and picked up something glass.

My eyes widened when I realized what it was. It was the bottle. I’d found proof. I climbed my way back over to the road and started walking back to town. I had something, something that proved it wasn’t all a dream. It was an essential piece to my mental stability. Just as I was nearing the main part of town, there was a sudden blip blip followed by some colorful lights.

“Oh crap the po’po’s!” I bolted. I didn’t have to stop to think, I knew they were after me. The car sped up a little, so I moved to the sidewalk, in the hopes the damn thing wouldn’t run me over. I turned at the main intersection again and passed a couple standing on the sidewalk. They looked at me a bit oddly as the police car rounded the corner too. It sped up on the straight and stopped a half block ahead of me. Inspecter Facet stepped out of the car, and Inspector Bedeau got out on the other side. I skidded to a halt. They both looked a little comical. Their car was kind of a hatchback and seeing chunky Bedeau and tall/skinny Facet get out of it… I might as well have been chased down by a Laurel and Hardy movie.

“Little runaway, do you want to go to a juvenile hall?” Inspector Facet asked coldly. I stood still, but did my best to look angry.

“What iz zee meaning of zis? You so ungrateful to Angélique!” chimed in Bedeau in his accent. Still I held my ground. The two started to approach me.

“I’m not running away! I just needed to find answers!” I yelled as the two came at me.

“Answers to what? Have you been drinking? Cause if that’s what I think it is under your arm, then we’ve got a problem.”

I tucked the bottle a little closer to my body and started walking around them in a circle. Bedeau moved to block me in his heavy wobble walk. The two began to advance on me again. It wasn’t really threatening, more like the way someone would approach a dog they intend to collar. I backed up and brought the bottle close to my chest.

“Look at her… she’s holding that bottle like a teddy bear,” chuckled Inspector Facet.

“Angélique said she was drunk when she found her. I didn’t really believe it cause of how young she is, but now… jeeze, she’s an addict.”

I held the bottle as close as I could. Any tighter and I would have broken it. It was the only proof I had right now, the only proof that confirmed what my mind knew, but no eyes believed. I noticed the lights and commotion were starting to attract attention. The eyes and faces of the locals were peering through blinds and curtains of nearby houses. I gulped loudly as the two men stopped in front of me. I felt my pull-up get warm.

Angélique heard a car roll up outside. She rushed to the window and saw the multi-colored lights filling the night. There was a knock at the door.

“We picked up a little runaway…” Inspector Facet said with a grim smile. Bedeau marched me into Angélique’s house. She was waiting in the living room, looking at me strangely. I couldn’t get an emotional read from her; her face wasn’t displaying anything at all. It scared me worse then if she had been really angry.

I was quick to blurt out. “I wasn’t running away… I just needed to look at something.” Her expression remained unchanged, she looked to Facet.

“What did she say?”

“That she needed a drink,” Facet answered. Angélique nodded, and Bedeau gave him an odd look, but didn’t follow it up with a comment. Facet approached me.

“Maybe I should make this clear… This is for your own good. Angélique here is doing this out of the kindness of her heart. She didn’t have to take you in… If you run away again, I will send you to a juvenile hall.”

I nodded meekly, his tone was so serious it could probably cut me.

“The girls at juvenile halls don’t mess around. How do you think they’ll like an American girl who wets herself and claims some of the things you claim?”

I cringed, for being a jerk, what he said made sense.

“So why don’t you ‘Play Ball’ as you American’s say? It will be better for you I think.”

I again nodded meekly. The two inspectors looked at me a little angrily, then at Angélique with a little bit of pity. Inspector Facet flashed out my bottle of wine, and without thinking I made a grab for it, but he jerked it away with a sneer before turning to walk out. I was about to make chase, but Angélique grabbed my shoulder. When they were gone she went up and shut the door. Her emotions still hadn’t surfaced. She calmly walked back to me and slapped me across the face.

“HOW DARE YOU!?”

My eyes started watering before I even knew what happened. My hand slowly went up to my cheek, feeling the warmth of the slap there.

“You ran away to drink? You retched retched girl… I’ve got half a mind to send you off wherever Inspector Facet was talking about. You have done absolutely nothing but throw any help I give you right back in my face!”

Her face had plenty of emotion now. She was pissed, and I guess she had every right to be. I held my hand to my cheek, feeling a tear roll down it. I couldn’t understand her words, but there’s still something about raw feelings conveyed through tones. The moment I’d run out of her house, without saying why, I stepped over a line with her.

“You just don’t care! You don’t care at all! You don’t care that I’m trying to help you, or that you could find yourself in a really scary place, alone. The only thing you seem to care about is damn vin!”

I heard vin emphasized at the end of her sentence. She thought this was about the wine. She made a dramatic motion at the door and then threw her hands up in the air. I think her meaning was something to the effect of… Leave again and you’re on your own. Angélique went upstairs. I stood with hand to cheek, and sobbed a little softly. In trouble with the police, in trouble at home… things weren’t going well.

I went upstairs when I’d calmed. It was getting late and I knew I should probably go to bed. Angélique was in her room, door wide up. She watched me go by in silence while sitting on her bed. I went into my room and just laid down on mine, once again looking to my friend the ceiling.

“You’ve done it this time. Now no one trusts you and your one step from no one wanting you either…” I said to myself. The thought brought fresh tears.

The noise of a paper bag brought me back to reality. Angélique came into the room with the bag from earlier. She grabbed a few things from it and came up to me.

“I’m so mad. I’ve never been this mad before.”

She was still mad, I could hear it in her voice.

“Why did you run? Do you hate my care that much? Do you need to drink that bad?”

She started to remove my pants as she talked in a raised voice. I didn’t do anything to hamper her and moved my hips to help a little. I knew now was not the time to be difficult.

“And your pull-up is soaked too… guess I should have expected that. I don’t even think you need them, so far you haven’t done anything but pee everything.”

She tore off the sides of my pull-up. I knew it was wet. She took out a wet wipe and ran it over me a little before getting out a disposable diaper and unfolding it to lay under me. I felt juvenile of course, and a part of me wanted to protest, but I stayed mum.

She sprinkled a little powder on me, then brought the diaper up between my legs and tapped it in place. I laid there wondering what next, but to my surprise she took the bag and left the room, closing the door a little harshly.

I felt pretty bad again. It seemed like I couldn’t do anything right in this body, and searching for my real body only led to more trouble. Tears leapt from my eyes, I wasn’t even crying anymore, it just seemed like my eyes began to water every time I reflected on the current state of things. I got up and went over to the dresser. I removed my shirt and bra, since they were the only things I had on besides the diaper, and pulled on an oversized night shirt. I walked back over to my bed and crawled in.

The emotional and physical strain on me today had worn me out completely… but somehow I couldn’t sleep. Try as I might, I couldn’t force myself to clear my mind and go to sleep. I laid there and in my mind watched Angélique yell at me over and over, like I was the dog who had done one bad thing to many. Why did I have to go look for that damn bottle? Was my proving her wrong worth the risk of losing everything?

My throat got dry and my nose runny after laying down so long crying and not being able to sleep. Groggily I got up to go get a drink from downstairs. It was dark and probably the middle of the night by now. I didn’t make any noise as I softly tip toed downstairs to the kitchen. I couldn’t see anything because it was so dark, but I did find the fridge and when I opened it, the little light was enough to go by.

Her fridge was filled with various things you’d expect to see from a girl who cooked healthy. She had some carrot juice on the top shelf, but that really didn’t look appetizing. I was kind of in the mood for a soda, since all the crying had made my throat hurt a little.

I moved things around a little and found a bright bottle in the back. The text on the label was French and none of the words on it looked much like easily translatable English words. I’d say it was a liquor bottle, but it looked too much like a glass coca-cola bottle to be one. I picked it up. The stuff inside was green and fizzy and the front had some long sentences on it circling a picture of a green fairy. It looked like soda…

I fished around for a cup and poured a little out. I tried to sniff at it, but my nose was runny from crying. I took a good sip, and immediately spit it out into the sink, spraying the counter a little. Definitely liquor, hard liquor.. really really hard liquor. What the hell was Angélique doing with this stuff?

I quickly capped the bottle and turned on the faucet to get a drunk with my head under it. I decided I better hide the fact I’d tried it, or Angélique would have even more bad evidence against me. I started to head back up stairs, feeling a little dizzy. At the very least, I could tell even the sip of that stuff was going to help me sleep. I crawled in under the covers and curled up to my pillow. My eyes were heavy now, and it didn’t take much effort to close them.

“Hey girlie,” Anthony said to me. My eyes shot open and I saw myself… the male version of myself, seated at a round table with two shadows. He was shuffling a deck of cards.

I hesitantly got out of bed and walked over to him. He began to deal out the cards to the shadows and I stood behind him, looking at his hand.

“I’m you… right?” I asked a little uncertain.

“You tell me diaper girl… You don’t look much like me.”

“You’re not even looking at me,” I commented. It’s true he was just looking at his cards and watching the shadows as they sorted through theirs.

“I don’t need to look at you. I heard you crinkling a mile away. Stupid baby.”

“I’m not a baby, I’m you. It doesn’t matter what you say, because I know I’m you.”

“You can believe whatever you want to believe. As for me,” He turned around and looked into my eyes. It was a hard nostalgic feeling; those were my own real eyes looking into me. “I’m going to believe what I see right now… and what I see, is a blonde babe in a diaper.”

I really wanted to hit myself. I wanted to tell me I was a jerk, but all that happened instead was I cried. It seemed like my only defense now. Anthony smirked and turned back to his game.

“Poor little girl… Least you have someone to take care of you now. Why don’t you go off and enjoy that for a while.”

I looked up through blurry tears and found he was gone; the table of cards was gone with him. I was in a new room; it was pink and white, and infantile. It was a nursery. Angélique walked up to me.

“Oh there there little Aluoette,” she said in unaccented English. Her voice was very sweet and very calm. It slowed my tears. “Why are you crying?”

“I… don’t want to be a baby. I want to be who I used to be.”

“Oh nonsense, you are who you’ve always been. Here let me help you up.” She gave me a hand and pulled me to my feet. I was still in my long night shirt with a diaper underneath.

“Where are we?”

“We’re in the nursery of course. It’s the room for little kids under three years old.”

“But why am I in here? I’m not 3.”

She patted my diapered behind. “It’s the only room with a changing table, so for now, you’re an honorary three year old.”

“But I’m not three?”

“Aluoette?”

“I’m not three!”

“Aluoette…”

A hand was gently shaking me awake. I bolted upright in bed, panting. Angélique was there and had her hand on my shoulder.

“You were having a nightmare. I could hear you all the way from my room.”

“I’m not three! I’m not a girl! I’m a guy, my name is Anthony!” I was blubbering.

Angélique wanted to be mad. She still WAS mad from earlier, but seeing this, seeing how upset poor Aluoette was, she just couldn’t bring herself to it. She eased Aluoette back down to the pillow. “It’s okay… it was just a dream.”

“I’m not three,” I said again. My voice was shaky and my head hurt. I couldn’t think straight. I just knew I was in trouble, that my body was upset. I rolled out of bed and hit the floor. Angélique jumped to get me in surprise, but not before I threw up.

I was taken to the bathroom. My head was heavy still and now my stomach wasn’t doing so great either. I felt another hurl coming, but it wasn’t as strong and I kept it down. Angélique had a wet washcloth and dabbed at my forehead.

“Maybe this will teach you not drink so much vin, eh Aluoette?”

“No… no vin…”

When I was feeling a little better, Angélique helped me back to my room, and cleaned up my little mess. She got me back into bed, and found my diaper wet, so she changed it. I rolled over and tried to straighten out my head. My eyes found Angélique.

“I… I’m… I’m sorry.” I searched for the right words… “Désolé…”

Angélique smiled at me. It almost instantly made me feel better. “I forgive you, just… please don’t make this so difficult.” She kissed me on the forehead. “And if you get sick again, you’re on your own in terms of clean up.”

She left my room and me to sleep. I hit the pillow like a block of cement and went dead to the world. My head was still heavy… I thought, ‘the first thing I do when I learn good enough French, is question her about that bottle in the fridge.’

Sleep and I met again at last, but our time together was over before I could get rid of whatever had plagued me. Angélique was in my room at the crack of dawn, bright and chipper, as if nothing out of the ordinary had gone on last night. I buried my head under the pillows.