Vincent cast me a pursed smile. “That’s OK.” he said. “Sometimes it’s just easier to be mean that it is to be nice.” he added.
Philosophical statements have never been my strong point. In fact I can barely pronounce philosophical, let alone spell it. When it was me and Gregory it seemed logical to side with him… boys sticking together and all that. Then without Gregory’s influence and heeding Mother’s advice, I’ve tried to be more considerate to Vincent and his situation. Even if he does dress like a girl all the time, he’s still my brother and I like spending time with him. And unlike Gregory, Vincent did stand up for me when Mother first tried to get me to try on the sailor dress.
“How are you two getting on?” Mother asked as she returned.
“OK.” we simultaneously replied.
“How do you fancy a take-away?” she said.
Of course we fancied a take-away. I suggested KFC and Vincent wanted pizza. I asserted that KFC is loads better than pizza. Vincent pointed out that we can get a pizza delivered, and we’d have to go to get the KFC. An image popped into my head of us sitting in the KFC, chomping into our chicken drumsticks and scoffing fries, dressed exactly as we are now. “OK let’s get pizza.” I said.
Vincent and I continued doing our homework until the delivery arrived, at which point we helped each other into our aprons, cleared our books from the table and sat down to a rare take-away treat. As Vincent and I cleared up after eating, Mother grinned at me and said I looked like I was ready to be confirmed.
“What’s that?” I asked, looking down at myself in my white school shirt, white pinafore apron and white knee socks.
“When girl’s get confirmed at church they wear a white dress…” Mother explained, “…not too dissimilar to your shirt and piny.” she added.
“One of the boys in my class wore a dress when he got confirmed…” Vincent interjected, “…he said he looked like a ghost.” She grinned.
Mother grinned too but it didn’t tickle me. Mother looked me up and down, smiled, then said, “I’ll have to get you some shoes like Sonia’s too.”
I gulped. I glanced at Vincent’s feet and as usual, he wore his shiny black Mary Jane’s with their dreaded T-strap, heart shaped silver buckle and clumpy two inch heel. Worn with dark tights they don’t look too bad I suppose, but with white socks they look horrendous.
After tidying up and finishing our homework, I asked if I could go and get changed. Mother glanced at the clock. “It’ll be bath time soon so there’s not much point.” she said.
“Bath time’s an hour away.”
“Exactly.” Mother replied. “There’s no point getting changed just for an hour is there?”
“I guess not.” I replied. Vincent and I went to the sitting room to watch TV, but I probably spent more time looking at my bar lap, girlie knee socks and and the little skirt of my pinafore dress. It must be horrid wearing this to, from, and at school everyday, I thought. But then I figured it’s probably not that bad if everyone wears the same. I recalled Vincent telling me that he and the other boys have to play hop-scotch or skipping games during their break times. I didn’t want to imagine skipping or playing hop-scotch in something this short, but imagine it I did.
Eventually, Vincent was taken for his bath and twenty minutes later Mother shouted my name. “Oh Mu-um…. I can do this myself.” I moaned as she began getting me undressed. Mother said I’d only leave ‘it’ screwed up on the floor as she pulled the pinafore dress off me. A few minutes later I moaned “Oh Mu-um… I can bath myself.” when she plunged the sponge into the hot soapy water, grabbed my arm and started scrubbing me.
“You can get yourself wet but that’s not the same as getting yourself clean.” Mother said as yet again she proceeded to bath me.
Once out of the bath, Mother followed me to my bedroom. “Oh Mu-um… I don’t want that in there.” I moaned as she opened my wardrobe and hung the tartan pinafore inside.
“Oh Mu-um!” my mother said, mimicking me. “If you don’t stop whining Andrew you’ll spend all weekend wearing it.”
I stopped whining.