As I hung my very own pinafore apron up next to Mother’s and Vincent’s, I imagined how my big brother Gregory might react when he sees it. Maybe Mother’ll make him wear her big one when he comes home, I figured, but I can’t see that happening. More likely he’d start calling me names just like he and I used to call Vincent names. Then I imagined his reaction to the dress in our wardrobe… I visualised myself insisting that I only wore it once and Gregory not believing me, then telling everyone else at the earliest opportunity. I suppose I can trust that Vincent won’t say anything to anyone, and he’s had plenty of opportunity to do so.
We watched TV until 7.00pm when Mother turned to my brother and predictably said, “Bath time Sonia dear.” Not so long ago I’d giggle and snigger as ‘she’ was taken for ‘her’ bath, but now I just feel sorry for him. I’m sure normal girls don’t dress as girlie as Vincent does… in fact I know they don’t. Normal girls wear jeans and plenty of other plain or boyish things. Since becoming Sonia, Vincent has worn nothing but prissy dresses or skirts, and almost all of them are either frilly, pink or flowery, peppered with bows and/or lace or other girlie designs. I guess in a way, I’m lucky to have only had to wear a simple blue sailor dress with no flowers or frills… and I get the feeling that Mother’ll pester me into wearing it again, one day.
The next day, Sunday, the weather was windy, rainy and generally horrid. Normally I’d be getting on with homework but with Mother’s insistence that Vincent and I do it as soon as we get home from school, it’s all done. There was little on the telly to occupy me and unlike Vincent, I wasn’t much of a reader. Consumed with boredom I sauntered up to Vincent’s room and knocked on the door. “Can I come in?” I asked as I looked him up and down.
“Why?” Vincent replied cagily.
“I dunno.” I shrugged. “I’m bored… what are you doing?”
“Reading.” he replied before stepping to one side to let me in. Vincent’s bedroom is a room I seldom enter. Mother had Gregory and I helping to redecorate in the summer holiday and since then Vincent’s domain has been something of a cathedral to all things pink and girlie. The walls are clad in cream coloured wallpaper with numerous images of romanticised ballerinas in a variety of poses; each wearing a pink leotard and pink tutu. His curtains are pink with a Barbie print and his lampshade, table lamp and waste paper basket all have Cinder-bloody-rella on. His bed is covered with a ghastly My Little Pony duvet, on top of which is what I assume is his current book. There’s a number of cute and cuddly teddy bears, rag dolls and other soft toys lined up along the wall side of his bed. I hesitantly perched on the edge of the bed and picked up the rag doll. “Do you play with any of this stuff?” I asked.
“Course not!” Vincent defensively replied.
“Sorry I didn’t mean….” I said as I put the doll back in its place. I looked around and gulped as I imagined having to live in such girlie surroundings. I doubt I’d spend as much time in here as Vincent does, that’s for sure. On his mantle is a pair of ceramic ballerinas and a pink plastic clock also bearing a ballet motif. His shelves held a lot more books than mine did, as well as a selection of old and unused toys. However unlike my selection of outgrown toys, Vincent has a collection of toys he’s never played with, such as a Barbie doll, a number of Disney Princess figures, a fluffy unicorn and a miniature doll’s house in cheap looking pink plastic.
“I don’t play with those either.” Vincent said as I found myself staring at his toys. I looked at him with apologetic eyes, then at today’s dress: deep green velvet with long bell sleeves, a white pan collar and matching white cuffs. A white broderie anglaise underskirt is visible below the hem of his dress, and his hair is tied in two short, high bunches, tied with white broderie anglaise bows. “Stop staring!” Vincent gulped as he threw a trembling hand up to his hair.
“Sorry.” I frowned as my eyes dropped to my knees. I looked at his dressing table, on top of which is a variety of hair accessories, a pink hairbrush and a pink broad toothed comb. “I can’t imagine having so much pink stuff.” I said. “Doesn’t it do your head in?”
“A bit.” Vincent shrugged as he nervously thumbed the hem of his dress. “But you try telling Mother that you don’t want something she’s set her heart on you having.” he added. “I guess one day I’ll be a boy again… when I’m Gregory’s age I’ll have to be.”
“Yeah.” I replied. “I wonder what he’s up to?”
“Dunno.” Vincent shrugged. “Probably hanging out with his new mates, playing pool or table tennis… the common room looked pretty cool.”
“Yeah.” I agreed as I recalled my elder brother’s growing excitement as his enrolment approached. Gregory seemed more interested in what he’d be doing in his free time at college than the subjects he’d be studying. “Mother went and hung that dress in my wardrobe.” I confessed.
“Are you going to wear it again?” Vincent asked.
“Dunno.” I gulped. “Try telling Mother you don’t wanna do something when she’s set her heart on it.”
“At least it’s not really prissy like mine are.” Vincent said.
“Yeah I suppose.” I replied looking at his dress. “That’s not too bad.”
“Thanks.” Vincent blushed. The sleeves are bit of a pain but…” he added as he straightened his arm to demonstrate just how much fabric was in them, “…it’s nice and warm.” he said as he ran his hands over the soft velvet fabric.