I spent half the afternoon teaching Jake that stuff." I don't have your phone number," she said, though her body language also clearly showed she wouldn't have dared call even if she did have it."No, but you know where I live. And as to my number, here it is," I said and wrote both our landline and my mobile number on a scrap of paper. "Can I have yours?" I don't have my own mobile phone and we have no landline," she said miserably."But what if you mother wants to get hold of you?" I blurted."She doesn't," Fran replied, and tears started to form in her eyes.Ouch. She really had it tough. I made a mental note-to-self that a mobile phone would be an excellent gift, provided I ever got close enough to her to make her accept it. We finished lunch in silence."Anyway, let's have a look at your report and see what we can do," I said when we had eaten.She got it out - it was handwritten in her neat and very legible hand. She had left space where she knew things were missing. I noted that. "I. I wasn't sure. Could it be an ambush? Why not. Could hiswords be sincere? I would like to believe.Maybe it's the relevant moment to tell more about my father. He was justanother person in my preschool years. We were playing together, he wastelling me various stories, he was reading me stories for goodnight and wewere happy. Then was an abrupt change of everything between us. I didn'tknow what caused this change. It happened about that time when I'd said mymother I'd prefer to be a girl. But it wasn't the same day neither thenext day. Almost a month passed and he was suddenly cold and dreary. Hisface became wrathful and ominous. He never smiled at me anymore. He nevertalked to me, just word or two. And he never referred to me by my namejust "kid". Maybe I just exaggerated myself and the true reason wassomewhere else, but then I was just fifteen and saw him, the emphaticallymasculine man, and me, the freak (by my Mother's word) denying mymasculinity I'd inherited from him in favor of.
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