Eighteenth Birthday -- 10 years later

(With heartfelt apologies to Stranger. I just couldn’t help myself.)

We didn’t hear from Justin after that, not directly. He attended the University on money he had from his grandmother. Some of the local boys attending the University with him wrote about him to their parents who relayed the messages to us. My wife was very unhappy that Justin didn’t want to keep in touch. But then, Justin somehow discovered that his friends were reporting on his activities so he made them stop. Every once in a while my wife would wonder how he was doing but there was nothing I could say to her.

Then lo and behold, on Justin’s 28th birthday a big car pulled up in front of the house and a man and a woman and two children got out of it and came up to the door. My wife said, “I think it’s Justin,” but I couldn’t believe it. Then the doorbell rang and my wife ran to answer it. It was indeed Justin, but looking older, naturally, but very lean and fit. He smiled his great smile and said, “Mom and Dad, I’d like you to meet my wife, Sylvie and my two sons, Justin and Eric.”

My wife said, “Your...sons...?” Justin laughed and said “I’ll tell you all about it.

We went into the living room. Justin said, “We’re just passing through. Sylvie wants to visit her aunt Esther who lives over on Elm street.”

Sylvie, a very pleasant young woman, said, “Yes. I’m taking the boys over there now. Justin does want to talk to you all.” And with that she gathered the two boys and left and we heard the car drive away.

I said to Justin “You married and...adopted...the boys?”

Justin grinned. No, I didn’t adopt anyone. I have to tell you the story. I was doing badly at school. I was miserable and depressed. But then in my junior year, one night I went out with some friends and they picked up a couple of girls. Of course that was 3 years after my operation so I had absolutely no sexual feelings. I went home early but it seems trouble started and one of the girls accused the boys of gang raping her and included me in the group and picked me and the others out of a line-up. I didn’t know what to do. I finally made a decision. It took a tremendous amount of courage but I explained to the police that I was a Eunuch and could not perform in any way shape or form with a woman. They had a doctor look at me. He and a second doctor agreed whole heartedly and the charges were dropped without me ever appearing in court.

So I realized that it was God’s will that I be emasculated so that I could not be falsely accused. And the doctor made me tell him how it happened. He advised me to get hormone therapy. I was reluctant at first. There are a lot of advantages to being free of sexual urges. But I cautiously took his advice. My sex drive did not come back in a flash, but my interest in sports did. I started working out. I tried out for the basketball team. I was way out of shape and way out of practice but the coach heard me advising a couple of the guys about their technique and asked me to help coach the team. Then my sexual drive revived and I met Sylvie. I didn’t want to tell her about my problem but I finally did. Dr. Lockridge -- that’s his name -- has a friend into cloning experiments and Sylvie agreed to an experiment, not cloning exactly, but cloning techniques and in vitro feltilization, using the nucleus of one of my blood cells. I don’t know the details although they’ve been explained to me several times. Biology is not my strong point. But Sylvie got pregnant and the boys are my sons as well as hers.

My wife’s jaw had dropped and her eyes were wide. She said, “But... but...” then she decided to change the subject and asked “What do you do for a living?”

“Me? I’m assistant basketball coach at the University and next year when Coach Delaney retires I’ll take over his job. Oh, by the way is Dr. Dunne still in practice?” He asked questions about Dr. Dunne, like where he lived and if his routine was fairly regular.

We talked for another two hours. I didn’t know whether to believe him, but I didn’t want to cross question him. Then Sylvie returned with the two boys and Justin and they left, despite my wife’s entreaties for them to at least stay for supper.

Two weeks later, Dr. Dunne was found murdered. He had been stripped and castrated with a jagged knife and had bled to death. A botched burglary the police said, and whoever did it covered their tracks very skillfully, and nobody wanted to ask any questions about the doctor’s activities, especially the police for whom Dr. Dunne was reputed to have done considerable work.

Justin made it quite clear that he wasn’t coming back. My wife complains bitterly and regularly about the fact that she hasn’t been able to get to know her grandchildren. Me? I had to find another doctor. I’ve been in therapy for severe depression and I take anti-depression pills regularly. But nothing seems to help.