They soon finished their coffee and Mark’s mother sent him to the kitchen to wash the mugs. Once that was done, she asked him if he’d wrapped Jacob’s Christmas gift, which Mark had. It was up in his room and his mother suggested he fetch it. It may be a good six months since the last time he wore high heels but they don’t feel as awkward or ungainly as he’d expected. Maybe his mother was right about high heeled shoes being like riding a bike? Once you learn you don’t forget. He trotted down the stairs with with Jacob’s gift and noted how his skirt swished and swayed. His mother had assembled the rest of the gifts she’d bought for Jacob’s parents, sister and little brother and put them in a festive themed paper bag, along with a big box of chocolate truffles for the table. “Have you got your handbag?” she asked her son as they prepared to leave.
“Yeah.” Mark replied, grabbing it. “I suppose I should redo my lipstick.” he sheepishly suggested as he opened the bag.
“I was just about to say that.” his mother said. She felt so proud as he timidly applied his lipstick then sought approval. “Lovely.” she told him. She donned her coat and handed Mark his new hooded cape that matches his dress. It’s a quarter cape that hangs around his shoulders, down to his elbows and fastens with a single button. Whilst its fabric is thick and cosy, its short length feels inadequate and its vintage style feels overtly feminine. “Where’s those new mittens?” his mother asked as he picked up his handbag.
“I was gonna wear my gloves.” he replied. Being bright blue, his mother told him that his trusty winter gloves wouldn’t go with his outfit and since the woollen mittens one of his aunts had gifted him are grey with green cuffs, they’ll look much nicer. “But they won’t be as warm.” he whined.
“Mittens are warmer than gloves.” his mother told him. Mark muttered that he hasn’t worn mittens since he was a little kid as he slid them on. They looked and felt infantile. His mother grabbed the bag of gifts and they walked into the hallway. She parked him in front of the large mirror and told him that he looked very festive. Mark gulped and sighed at his reflection. The glittery snowflakes on his skirt sparkled, and landing halfway down his thigh, left much of his ivory tights on display. They also sparkled as he turned this way and that. “I look like a girl Mum.” he frowned.
“You look nothing like a girl.” she told him, claiming that he looked like a fashionable teenage boy. “Put your hood up… and be careful you don’t mess your hair.” she told him as she opened the door.
The oversized hood covered his short boyish hair and framed his painted face. “I’m really nervous Mum.” he timidly said as he looked outside.
“What on earth for?” his mother asked. “It’s Christmas so there’ll be hardly anyone out.”
“I know but…” Mark gulped. “..I’m just not used to looking like this.”
“You look fabulous Mark, and if it’s Jacob you’re worried about, I think if anything he’ll be jealous of how nice you look.” she claimed. Mark was unconvinced by his mother’s supposition. “Come on, we’re letting all the heat out.” his mother said.
Mark stepped out into the chilly December air. An inch of snow covered the lawn. The leaves in the trees and hedgerow were tinged with frost. The garden path is white and potentially icy. The cold nibbled right through his tights. “It’s freezing.” he said as his mother locked the door.
“You’ll be fine once we get moving.” his mother said. “And I expect it’s just your legs.”
Mark nodded. His rugged soles sank into the frosty snow with a satisfying crunch and his breath condensed into an icy cloud. He shifted his handbag to the crook of his elbow and huddled his arms in close, cupping his elbows in his mittened hands. “Brrrr.”