I reluctantly followed my mother out of my room and did indeed take care on the stairs. All those times I’d watched Vincent descend these step wearing a variety of girlie outfits I wondered how it must have felt. Well now I’m getting an idea. It’s somewhere between stupid and special. Once my feet struck the tiled kitchen floor I realised how noisy the heels on my shoes were, and once I’d sat myself down at the table I realised how much higher my knees were.
I was anticipating Vincent’s return nervously and imagined what it must be like having to wear this at school everyday. Vincent tells me that she… sorry, ‘he’ has simply got used to wearing girl’s clothes all the time. I recall him saying that if girl clothes were as bad as most boys think, then even the girls wouldn’t wear them. I guess he’s right. They’re not that bad to wear but there’s a big difference between wearing something and being seen wearing something. It’s not so bad at home but there’s no way I’d go outside dressed like this.
When Vincent returned, Mother had me stand up so I could show him my new shoes. Of course he said I looked nice, but he goes to a school where he’s used to seeing boys dressed like this. “Are those my socks?” Vincent asked.
“You don’t mind him borrowing them do you dear.” Mother replied.
Over the next few weeks, I sort of got used to the routine of getting changed into the Malham Hall uniform when I got home from school. Mostly Mother would put a pair of Vincent’s knee socks out for me, but if it was particularly cold outside she’d give me a pair of his bottle green school tights instead. I got used to wearing my new ‘school’ shoes and didn’t even give their elevated heel a second thought. All the times I’ve thought how do girls walk in those?, and now I know
At this time of year the high street stores and television commercials are ramming Christmas down our throats. As a twelve year old Christmas really is something to get excited about. Both Vincent and I were hoping for the latest games console and loads of cool games. We spent many an excited chat speculating whether we’d get Special Ops, NFS or FIFA, hoping Mother wouldn’t skimp and buy us the old versions. “I bet she buys me something really lame like My Little Pony or Tinker Bell.” Vincent sighed. “I’m gonna get so much girl stuff this year.” he gulped.
My heart went out to my brother and I can only admire him for putting a brave face on. “It’ll be OK.” I said. “Mother’ll come round and accept that you’re not really a girl… one day.”
“Yeah maybe… but I’m not going to hold my breath.” Vincent replied. “At least it’s not just me anymore.” he added. “When Gregory was here it was horrible… I just hid in my room all the time.”
“I’d forgotten about Gregory.” I gulped. “I hope Mother doesn’t make me wear a dress when he comes home.”
“Maybe she’ll make him wear one too?” Vincent grinned. Somehow I couldn’t see that happening.
A couple of weeks later, Mother told us that Gregory wouldn’t be coming home for Christmas. He’d sent a Christmas card and enclosed an extensive letter. Mother read us the relevant bits and told us that he’d taken a really good job in a posh hotel which would see him through the holidays, and since it’s not only paid well but also counts towards his course work (he’s studying travel, tourism & hospitality), it’s too good an opportunity for him to miss.
