Across town Arturo lies wide awake in his narrow bed in the attic above the diner; his head cradled on his arms. The dog he calls Chuco, the Spanish word for mutt, sleeps soundly at the other end; his scruffy but scrubbed clean head is nestled on the mound of blankets over the young man’s feet. Outside the window, wet snow slashes the dirty panes.
If only he could tell Bessie who he really is! To be so close to her today and not be able to touch her or speak to her was excruciating. He longed to grab her and swing her up in the air and scream, “Bessie, it’s me! Jason! I’m in a different bodysuit but it’s me!”
He hadn’t realized how painful this mission of his was going to be. And now that he’s seen Bessie, been within inches of her, he yearns to visit his mother and father again, and his
