“Look,” said the doctor, “there are some realities we need to get through, so let’s go to a conference room and deal with them. When you’re done there, you can go home.” He tapped a message into his phone.
The group slowly made its way down the hall and off the medical floor, Tom’s oversized shoes shuffling noisily.
When they got to a conference room, there was a middle-aged woman with a no-nonsense bun in her hair and a sheaf of papers waiting for them.
“This is Ms. Williams. She is from our legal department. Please listen to what she has to say.”
Ms. Williams stood and addressed the group. “Normally, when we do a mind storage, the person receiving the new body simply continues their identity. We work with the DMV and the government to get new identification papers with the recipient’s name but with the donor’s physical information and photo. So the recipient is physically, say, 20, but is legally still 40.”
She moved her reading glasses down her nose and looked at Tom.
“That assumes that both the donor and the recipient are of age. In this case, however, we can’t do that. Because the donor body is a minor, we can’t just swap the identities. So, Mr. Allen, you are going to have to adopt the identity previously held by Jacob Riley, meaning as a twelve-year-old boy.”
“Why?” asked Alice. “He’s still Tom Allen. He has all of Tom Allen’s memories. He is still an A-1 lawyer. And he is still my fiancé.”
“Stop and think about this, ma’am. If we give him an ID that says he is 35, and he goes and buys alcohol, what will happen? What usually happens when a 4-and-a-half-foot-tall 12-year-old drinks a couple of shots of whiskey?”
“Oh,” said Alice. “I didn’t think of that.”
“Also, you’re going to have to wait until he is of age to consent to marriage, which in this state is five years from now. Now think about what it would look like to have a 40-ish woman with a 17-year-old boy.”
“So, you’re saying…” said Tom.
“If I could PLEASE allowed to finish my sentences,” snapped Ms. Williams. “Because his body is clearly too young to be treated as an adult, he will have to be either adopted or fostered. And while I am sure he could manage the foster care system, it would be a lot easier to get an expedited court order for adoption.” She put her hands on her hips and looked at Alice and Steve.
“Wait. You want ME to adopt my fiancé? And what about his son, who is sitting right here? He can’t go back to his mom’s, she’s a junkie.”
Ms. Williams rolled her eyes. “The alternative to all of this would have been to let Mr. Allen die. This clearly was not planned for, but the fact is, this young man here isn’t done developing. Doesn’t have much executive function. And will have all the issues that come with puberty. Because. He. Is. Physically. Twelve.”
Steve reached over and touched Alice’s hand. “I will help you raise them both,” he said. “They’ve lived with me since Matt was four, I’m basically his stepdad anyway. And while it will be a real challenge to have two teenagers, we can do it. But if you don’t want to be part of their life anymore, I can and will do it myself. I’m not sending Matt back to Tom’s bitch of an ex-wife, and I sure as hell am not sending my best friend to some horrible foster home where he’s just a number on a check to them.”
Tom looked up at Alice. “Please, Allie. I don’t expect you to wait for me. But please don’t walk out of my… of our lives.” He blinked back tears.
She looked at her shrunken ex-fiancé and then at Matt, who looked sullen.
“I will do this,” she said, “on three conditions. First, that Steve and I put your wealth into a trust so that we can raise you and Matt. Second, that you treat me as your mother and not your romantic interest. And third…” she swallowed hard.
“Yes?” asked Tom.
“Third, that you use the name Jacob. I can’t look at you and call you Tom. It’s just too much. I need Tom to be gone if I can’t marry him. You will have to be Jacob.”
Tom fidgeted with the hem of his Minecraft t-shirt. “I understand,” he said. “But can I at least be Jacob Allen so there’s some part of me left?”
All of them looked at Ms. Williams.
“You can be named anything, we will simply petition the judge.”
Matt reached over and put his hand on Tom’s shoulder. “I guess that makes us brothers… Jake.”
Tom, now Jake, smiled. “I always wanted a big brother,” he said. “But what am I going to do with myself?”
Steve cocked one eyebrow and said, “You’ll be starting in the seventh grade at Chapman Middle School after the winter break,” he said.
“What? The fuck I am. No. No fucking way,” retorted Jake. “I am not going to middle school!”
Ms. Williams’ implacable voice cut across his protests. “Yes, you are. Legally, you are twelve years old. Twelve-year-olds must go to school.”
“But I did this already! I’m a lawyer!”
Steve snorted. “Really? Okay. Let’s try your favorite question. Why, if the Supreme Court decided in Citizens United that corporate personhood existed for the purposes of free speech, are corporations not allowed to shield personal exemptions on their taxes?”
Jake stared at him. “I have no idea what you are talking about right now, Steve.”
“Exactly. Your 12-year-old brain can’t comprehend the higher concepts yet. It has nothing to do with your intelligence, it’s that your brain isn’t done ‘cooking’ yet. And you’d better start calling me Dad.”
“FML,” muttered Jake.