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All they had to do was talk her into being Helen for a weekend.To Janet's eternal surprise, Linda agreed after only a short discussion. Inreturn, she only asked one favor, which Vic reluctantly agreed to. Themedallion would now have to come out of hiding.*****So it passed that Old Aunt Ida arrived one Friday night to find Helen alreadytucked into bed, and Vic and Janet anxiously awaiting her arrival. Theycaught up on the family news, and finally went to bed. Vic was particularlytired, both from work and nervousness about next week.The weekend went smoothly. Helen tolerated the cheek pinching, Vic and Janettolerated the overbearing matron. Both of them actually enjoyed Old AuntIda's tales of her travels, and even Helen seemed fascinated - remarkable fora six year old, Ida thought. And Ida enjoyed spending time with her greatniece. It was the main reason she liked to visit. After all, Vic was an onlychild, and the last of the family line. Ida just wanted to make sure thefamily. “You’re already late, John.” He yelled as I made my way down the stairs. I arrived at the party where the speakers blared in my ears. As I walked down the hallway, I gazed enviously at the flirting couples who passed me. I felt bitter about being left dateless at this party. As I walked past a gorgeous looking woman, I let out a heavy sigh wondering if she could be my date tonight. I twirled back around as I heard a familiar but feminine voice behind me. “Hello,” said the pretty blonde as I stared at her wide eyed. She gazed at me with deep blue eyes that dazzled me with their clear beauty and made me feel like I was drowning in them. “Hi,” I muttered. But my head turned back, recognizing the features of this beautiful women, and I slowly realized who she was. “Is that you Jack?” I blurted out. The pretty girl suddenly held her delicate finger to my lips, and whispered, “Yes, it’s me John. But don’t say anything, no one here recognizes me except you.” “But, why Jack?” I exclaimed,.
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I light the cigarette and take greedy drags. Michael doesn’t smoke – it’s a filthy habit, he tells me. ‘Yes, Michael.’ ‘You do enjoy it?’ ‘Yes, Michael.’ I keep pushing my hair behind my ears – he’s gotten me into the habit. He says he likes to see my face. ‘You’re a lot smarter than you seem, aren’t you?’ he says now. I ash my cigarette. He’s never asked something like this before. What does he want to hear? ‘Yes, Michael.’ ‘And what do you think of me, in your secret thoughts, when you’re back in the Hotel at night?’ His dark eyes burn in the soft light, and I’m cold. I used to be overconscious of my nudity in front of him, but after a few weeks I didn’t care any more. I just didn’t care. ‘That I’m happy you favour me, Michael,’ I say finally. ‘You’re just telling me what I want to hear,’ he says. ‘That’s what you want,’ I whisper. ‘That’s not what I want,’ he says. ‘You want to have me?’ My eyes shoot up to his. The scars don’t bother me any more. We’re as comfortable.

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