“According to Agent Whitaker, it was at that point you cornered Qasim in the alley where he was shot while fleeing the scene of the attack. Is that ...orrect?” Crawford had asked him.Taylor was more than shocked. Crawford had struck Taylor as somewhat of a realist, but Whitaker was not. He’d been sure she’d explain precisely what he’d done, not that he was ashamed of it. He knew it was technically wrong, but ultimately it was the only choice that made sense. He’d been willing to pay the price for. "I imagine you to will want a few minutes alone. I'llbe at the nurses' station for this floor checking on a few things. Ifyou need me before I get back, just press the call button."As Mae closed the door behind her, Mom leaned over the edge of the bedand squinted as if she were having trouble focusing on me. "I'm sosorry, but the drugs I've been given have left me a little dopey.What's your name?"Out of all the people in my life, I would have expected my mom wouldrecognize me. Did I really look. How many timeshave I wished that I was young again? That I didn't have the aches andpains of old age, the scars of a long life. But never, never ever did Iwish I was a girl, a woman, a female." Arnold backed up and sat down onthe end of the bed and continued to stare at the reflection of the womanin the mirror, his reflection. "It's my reflection. I am that woman. Idon't know how but I may be her for the rest of my life. How long willthat be? How long will I live now? Will I live to be. It was out the door we went with Karla locking the door behind us.Nothing eventful happened as we all left the porch. My panic seemed to subside gradually as we got further from the house and through the security gates leading to the street. In some respects I was self conscious about wearing the clothes I had on. I imagined everywhere I went that people would stop, stare, point at me and laugh.Here I was, a used to be overage man, that looked like a teenager girl, was dressed as a teenage.
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