The next morning I woke and washed my face, returned to my room, removed my nightie and tossed it on the bed. I opened the wardrobe and wasn’t sure what to wear. Mother hadn’t chosen something for me so it was up to me I guess. I remembered Cheryl saying “Just try to enjoy it Pete… I used to love trying different clothes on when I was your age.”
I decided I’d wear something different, something I hadn’t worn yet; however, most of what I hadn’t worn I hadn’t worn for a reason… it was far too girlie! I gulped, shut my eyes and fumbled across the rails as if to let fate decide. I opened my eyes only when I’d half removed whatever I’d blindly chosen. I sighed. “At least it’s not…” I thought as I noticed a baby pink dress on the very next hanger. The dress I held was pale blue, with little white love hearts all over it, getting denser towards the hem of the skirt as if they were falling like snow. It had white lace edging around its wide scooping neck, elasticated sleeves which puffed out, again with lace edging and a zip up the back. I wasn’t keen on the little love hearts on it, but it was OK I guess. OK for a dress that is!
I changed into some clean underwear, specifically choosing a pale blue set to match the dress. The back zip was a struggle but I fastened it all the way up eventually. It fell just above my knee. I wasn’t sure which shoes I should wear with it, so I wore my black ballet pumps. At least they’re comfortable.
I didn’t have to do any chores today, it being a Sunday and all, but I did tidy up the kitchen after I had my breakfast. I returned to my bedroom and listened to the radio whilst I tidied up the dressing table. Cheryl’s make up was still out, so I placed it all back into her make up bag. Of course I had a good look at it all as I did so. All those tactile little objects, lipsticks, mascara, face powder & eye shadow, the pencils with a sharpener cunningly built into the lid. A bizarre pair of scissors caught my eye, which I eventually worked out to be eye lash curlers. “God they think of everything.” I muttered as I realised how they worked.
As I was tidying my dresser, I noticed the variety of head bands Mother insisted I wore when studying with Mrs Barnes. One of them was white with pale blue polka dots on which contrasted with my frock, so I decided to wear it. I slumped on my bed and flicked through a magazine for a while. I heard my sister get up around 9am. She tapped on my bedroom door and quietly asked, “Pete, are you up yet?”
“Of course.” I replied as she opened my door and peeped around it. “I have to get up at 7.30… even on a Sunday!” I reminded her.
“Oh yeah,” She whispered, “sorry!” she added before coyly creeping in and perching herself on my bed. Have you been downstairs yet?” She asked, still whispering.
“Yes. Why? Why are you whispering?” I replied.
“Did you go into the lounge?” She whispered.
“No, Why? Why are you still whispering?”
“Sorry. Good.” She said. “My friend Tina is asleep on the sofa. I didn’t want you to barge in at silly o’clock and wake her with the TV or something.” She added with a “Phew!”.
“Well I’m glad I didn’t!” I exclaimed. “How would I explain this?” I asked, holding the hem of my frock.
“Exactly.” Replied Cheryl, before biting her bottom lip.
“What!?” I asked dryly as I noticed her ‘regretful’ expression.
“Well…” She looked up at me, her expression riddled with guilt. “I figured the chances of you bumping into Tina were quite high, so I forewarned her.”
“How?”
“Well I told her you might be up early and…”
I intercepted, “And you told her that your brother dresses like a girl, so don’t get freaked out!?”
“No!… If you’ll let me finish.”
“I told her that my sister is very shy so don’t be surprised if she just blushes and runs to her room if you see her.” She said, as if she’d manufactured the worlds greatest excuse.
“So now I’m supposed to pretend I’m your sister to all your friends am I?” I asked, pissed off.
“No… of course not.” She insisted, squeezing my knee lovingly. “But what else could I say?…. I couldn’t say my brother wears dresses so don’t get freaked out could I?”
Cheryl was right. I nodded and said “I guess if I’m so shy I can just hide in my room ’till she’s gone?”
“Of course you can.” Cheryl agreed, again with that I’m so great expression.
“Good.”
“There is one more tiny thing though….” She hesitantly added.
“What?”
“Well,” Cheryl rubbed my hairless knee through the fabric of my frock, “I do like this dress.” She procrastinated. “It looks really nice on you.”
I sighed, knowing she was stalling. “And the tiny thing?”
“Oh er… She asked what your name was.” Cheryl bit her lip again.
I paused in horror before asking “And you said?”
“Well, you have to understand that I had to think fast?….”
I nodded. “Go on.”
“So it may not be ideal….” She stalled again.
I gave her a pleading look which said both ‘please don’t tell me you’ve given me a girls name?‘ and ‘please tell me and get this painful conversation over with!‘
“Rebecca.” She said quickly.
“Rebecca!”
“Sorry.” she bit her lip, again. “I just saw that name on a poster a moment before she asked and it was the only other name on my mind….” She explained.
I thought about it for a moment, I tried to imagine being called Rebecca but somehow couldn’t. “I’d rather be a Becky.” I eventually suggested. “I suppose.” I added.
“Whatever you like.” Said Cheryl. “I kind of like Rebecca for you though. I’ve been thinking about ever since… I mean, if you were really a girl… what your name would have been….”
“Mother said that too!” I interrupted.
“Did she?”
I nodded, but hung my head, both embarrassed and ashamed. “Mother said I might be happier if I had a girls name until my exams are over.”