THE GIFT

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J. REVIERE

Packed among the various boxes and items littering the apartment lay the gift. It had re- mained unopened. It had remain- ed unopened now for eight months at least. That is how long it had been since Beth had been killed in a tragic accident. The aircraft in which she had been returning from a visit to Washing- ton had been ice laden, stalled on takeoff and slammed into a bridge. Of the nearly 100 tragic deaths, Beth had been one.

The marriage had been nearly ten years old. It had suffered the usual stresses of economic pres- sures, cooling romance and above

all the barrier. It was not so much of a barrier, as it turns out, but a perceived one. None the less, barriers in fact and in per- ception are barriers all the same. Now with a numbness that only can come from loss of a loved one, Lane sat staring at the pac- kage, the gift.

Lane, or Elaine as was the pre- ferred identity, ached looking at the gift. She sat with legs crossed slowly turning the gift this way and that. Memories flooded her mind. There had been the won- derous flush of new love, the romance of the courtship and finally the honeymoon. During this time the barrier had not

been a bother. It had been more or less submerged. It had been thought to have dissolved.

Elaine couldn't remember, but it had been about two or three years after the honeymoon when the desire had begun to be no- ticed. At first it had been slight. by Lane had suppressed it success- fully, at least he thought so. But the ever present exposure to Beth's beautifully feminine things caused it to grow and grow. For months Lane had tried to keep down the desire. He fought with it, he cursed it. He called it a tender trap and when he first slipped a pair of Beth's frilly bikinis up his legs and a- round his hips, he knew he would remain in the tender trap.

Tell Beth! Don't tell Beth! So the argument within waged. Careful strategies were concocted They were discarded one after another. Years had passed in se- cretive dressing. During this time the clandestine reading of TV literature, the "business" trips, the secret meetings with others and the correspondance with many similarily inclined "sisters" had given Elaine identity. She had gained expression. A peaceful- ness unknown before had settled. But yet there remained the bar- rier.

- 24.

In a more or less turn about, Beth had announced just two weeks before the crash, her in- tent to visit a long lost college friend in the Nation's capitol. Secretly Elaine had loved it. Ahead would be at least a week of being able to enjoy the luxury of dressing uninterruptedly at home. There would be some shopping trips, some visits with others and the pure and simple luxury of being herself all day every day.

The trip had gone just about as anticipated. Beth had called from DC. Her visit was going wonderfully, in fact she had mailed a gift. She hoped it would be enjoyed. Then that

fateful day. The anticipated gift had not come, but Elaine was happily engaged in some of the feminine things one does to tidy up the place when someone special was due to arrive. Beth was indeed someone special. She was due home in a couple hours. Elaine was busily arranging the apartment and putting away all signs of feminine occupancy and preparing to greet Beth as Lane. The barrier remained.

Elaine was casually watching the mid-afternoon news. A terri- ble snow storm was working it's way up the East Coast. She won-