A Cold Afternoon in Toronto
by Anam Chara

This story is the sequel to “A Cold Morning in Toronto,” inspired by Dorothy Colleen’s Weblogue “Minus 35 degrees Celsius” that she posted January 16th, 2012.

There’s cold, and then there’s cold!

Connor and Caitlin only moved to Toronto with their mother less than two weeks ago. Then today the schools are closed. So what can they do home alone, in the cold, with the power down?

✽✽✽ −35  °C ✽✽✽

Caitlin heard Connor pounding on the front door, screaming at the top of his voice. She darted out of her room and flew down the stairs to the foyer.

“Lemme in, Sis!” Connor yelled frantically. “I’m freezin’ out here! It hurts!”

She unlocked and unbolted the door and swung it open for her brother. A blast of cold, frigid air knocked her to the floor as it carried her brother inside. Snow was blowing in, so she scrambled to her feet and slammed it hard, against the wind and cold.

“Thanks, Sis!” Connor offered. “I can’t believe how cold it is out there. I’ve never felt anything like that before. We’re not goin’ anywhere today.”

“You weren’t even out there–what, Li’l Bro? Four? Five minutes?” said Caitlin as she noticed tears welling up–tears borne from the cold stinging his eyes.

“However long was too long! I’m freezin’!” Connor complained. He could not help but think back to his old home, school, and friends. “I wish we were back home, Sis–back in Miami.”

“I know. I wish we were, too,” conceded Caitlin. “But you an’ me, we gotta git used to life here. We ain’t goin’ back, not for a long time.”

As she helped Connor out of his parka, she noticed that a layer of heavy, wet snow had adhered to his bluejeans and began melting as soon as her brother came inside. She grabbed a broom next to the door and tried to knock the snow off his jeans, but it was too late. She brushed away what was still there, but the jeans had already been soaked through.

“Bro, you need to git-cher jeans off right now,” she warned. “They’re already soaked.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” acknowledged Connor as he headed to his room, went in, and shut the door. Yes, his jeans were soaked. He didn’t think that he could have had that much snow on him, but he did. Pushing them down, he observed that the tights were also wringing wet as was the tail of his lumberjack shirt. So he peeled his sister’s tights off, took his pullover off, and then shed his shirt.

He caught his reflection in the full length mirror on the back of the door to his big, walk-in closet. At the moment, it was a mostly empty closet, his old clothes still undelivered. Still clad only in his sister’s lingerie, he sat down on the ice-cold hardwood floor beside his bed, blushing and anxious. Connor tucked his knees up to his chest and hugged himself as he began to cry. But Caitlin heard him sobbing as she walked past her brother’s room to go down the stairs, so she knocked on his door.

“Yeah?” acknowledged a sad, angry voice.

“Li’l Bro, can I come in?” Caitlin asked.

“Yeah.”

She opened the door to see him seated on the floor, his back up against his bed. He was shivering as well as crying. Then Caitlin felt a chill. No wonder! Connor’s room was freezing. She noticed her fluffy, pink dressing gown on a peg next to his closet door and took it down for him. Then Caitlin knelt beside her younger brother and helped slide his arms into its sleeves.

And then, Connor did something that neither could remember him doing since pre-school. He curled up against Caitlin and hugged her.

“It’s so cold, Sis,” he cried on her shoulder. “Why did Mom hafta move us here? It’s like another planet!”

Caitlin held her brother close to her. “I know. I don’t like this cold either.” She hugged him tighter. “But-cha know Mom had to come.”

“Yeah, I know,” conceded Connor. “But I still miss my friends. I didn’t even git to say goodbye to some of ’em. Gage wasn’t even back from Christmas vacation yet before we had to go. I had to tell ’im an’ Leslie by email.”

Lester Gage and Connor had been buddies since preschool. Indeed, they had grown up in each other’s company, exploring their world and learning many of their life lessons together. Lester’s twin sister, Leslie, had also come along with them on more than a few occasions. So, Connor felt very guilty not to have had a chance for a proper farewell to his best friend, or to his sister, who also had been his first real crush.

“An’ I miss Billy Jim, too,” his sister commiserated. “It was all so fast.”

“Well, you did git to spend New Year’s Eve with ’im.”

“I’m glad we were still together for that,” Caitlin sniffled. “An’ I hated to leave him an’ everyone else in Miami. But we gotta make a new life for ourselves here, Li’l Bro.”

Connor was still cold and hugged his sister tighter. “You’re still shiverin’!” she consoled her brother, hugging him as tightly as she could.

“Yeah. And I’m stuck here in your underwear an’ bathrobe, ’cause I don’t even have a dry pair o’ pants to wear.”

“Connor that’s not a bathrobe; it’s a dressin’ gown.”

“What’s the difference?”

“A bathrobe is–wait! I thought o’ somethin’. In fact, I had it in mind ever since you asked t’ wear my tights. But are you sure you don’t have any pants you can wear?”

“Mom’s got all of ’em, my khaki’s, my cords, my jeans, ’cept the cold, wet pair here in the floor. An’ those’ll take all day to dry without any power.”

“Then I got an idea, but you don’t hafta go along with it. An’ if you don’t wanna, I’ll understand an’ not be upset with you ’bout it or anythayng. ”

“All right. So, what is it?”

“When me an’ Mom went shoppin’ we got ourselves a cold weather wardobe. So I got all these new dresses, skirts an’ sweaters, turtlenecks, tights an’ all. I know this is gonna sound crazy, but you can wear any of my clothes you wanna try.”

Connor felt something akin to defeat. “Don’t-cha have any pants at all? A pair of jeans, maybe?” he asked.

“Sorry, but not right now. I bought two new pairs o’ bluejeans at the mall here, but Mom’s taken ’em to do the laundry after work, so she’s got ’em with the rest o’ your thayngs in the car.”

He sighed. “So, my only choice is a dress or a skirt?”

“’Fraid so, Li’l Bro!” confirmed his sister, looking at him with a sympathetic but firm smile. “Otherwise, you’ll have to sit here cold an’ all alone in my lingerie an’ dressin’ gown.”

“I dunno, Sis,” he said. “This is all too weird for me. Suppose someone finds out. We just moved here an’ I don’t wanna risk anyone–“

Connor sneezed suddenly. He shivered and emitted another sneeze.

“Tell you what, Bro,” his sister began. “I’m fixin’ to run you a nice hot bath so you can soak an’ relax an’ warm up. You can thaynk about it an’ then tell me whatcha wanna do. But I don’t wanna leave you in here to git a bad cold.”

He really didn’t know, or even care, what to think about what his big sister had suggested to him. But at that moment, he could not–he would not–fault either the idea or the reality of a nice hot bath.

“You’re right about a hot bath, Sis. Let’s start with that, then. We’ll thaynk about other stuff later. All right?”

Caitlin smiled and nodded at her little brother before kissing him on his forehead. He acknowledged in his own mind that she had been a sweet, kind, caring sister to him all morning. That had been a long time coming, at least in his mind. She went to draw a bath for Connor.

He wondered if there were maybe a tiny camera hidden somewhere in his chilly bedroom, recording him sitting there in his sister’s underwear and dressing gown. His room would have been heated by the electric baseboards if the power were on. But his mother’s and sister’s rooms were warmed instead by the central forced-air ventilation system, heated by natural gas during the winter. Having been added after the original construction, his room lacked any heating duct for the main system. He could get more heat by leaving his door open, but then he’d lose his privacy.

Connor continued to ponder his sudden changes in geography and social status. Back in Miami, he had been very popular, but here in Toronto, he was the new kid, an outsider. Never before had Connor experienced anything remotely close to weather like this morning. He felt defeated, depressed by it. He had ventured out in the spirit of mastering his new environment, but he hadn’t expected to be overwhelmed by the sheer, bitter cold almost immediately.

“Connor, your bath is ready,” his sister’s voice sang sweetly from outside his door. He got up and pulled the dressing gown more tightly around himself for warmth, then tied the belt off.

“I’ve added some bubble bath an’ scented oil to the bath. Mom an’ me like to take our baths this way. It’s so very relaxin’ for us. I hope you enjoy it, too.”

As soon as Caitlin opened the door to the bathroom a cloud of hot water vapor rolled out, banishing the aching cold from Connor’s bones. The strongly scented fragrance of the bath oil wafted across his nostrils.

Mm! Yes, thought Connor. He could get used to this.

“Take this,” said Caitlin, handing him a basket stocked with soaps, bottles, and tubes. “There’s shampoo, creme rinse, hair conditioner, a depilatory, an’ some moisturizing lotion.”

“De–depil–?” stammered Connor, trying to remember the word.

“Depilatory,” his sister completed. “It removes body hair. It might sting a little, but it’s still easier than shavin’ your legs. An’ they’ll look an’ feel smoother, too. After your bath, cover your body with it, wait a few minutes, an’ then rinse it off in the shower. Just follow the directions. Then, if you feel irritated after usin’ it, you can rub yourself down with the moisturizer.”

“How ’bout all these other things?”

“Start with the shampoo an’ just follow the instructions on the back. Then follow with the creme rinse an’ the hair conditioner. I’ll help style your hair when you’re ready. I’m fixin’ to give you a pixie cut, I thaynk. You’ll look real cute with it, if you still wanna go through with this.”

Did he want to go through with this? No, but it wasn’t like he had much choice. He had no dry pants of his own. In a way, it was nice of Caitlin to offer this to him. But still he felt anxious about wearing one of his sister’s skirts or dresses. He should have gone to the mall with her and Mom and got himself another pair of jeans or trousers, but he didn’t so now it was too late.

✽✽✽ −35°C ✽✽✽

Connor untied the matching belt of his sister's pink bathrobe, then let it slip from his shoulders to the floor. Very carefully, he tested the bath by dipping a toe in the steamy, hot water. Then gently he lowered himself into the bathtub.

He leaned back in the tub soaking in the bubble-bath and breathing in the luscious fragrance around him. Seriously, the feelings that Connor began to experience were enjoyable and he did start to feel relaxed. It was all a very happy counterpoint to the wintry chill into which he had stepped but half an hour before. Indeed, he had relaxed so thoroughly, that not until Caitlin knocked on the bathroom door did Connor even realize that he had dozed off in his bath.

“Li’l Bro, are you finished yet?” inquired his sister’s voice from the other side of the door. “You’ve been in there a while.”

“No!” Connor sat upright with a start, splashing the water around him. “I still have to wash my hair and use that other stuff.”

“The depilatory?” she asked as she slowly pushed the door ajar.

“Yeah! That stuff!”

“You can call it hair remover, if ya want.”

“Yeah, I want!”

“Need help?”

“Don’t think so. Not so far anyway.”

“Then I’ll leave you this bathrobe here. It’s pink. An’ a couple o’ bath towels,” Caitlin told him, pushing the door open just a little more to leave the bathrobe on the doorknob. “You just holler, though, if you do need anythayng else!”

“Okay, Sis!”

Connor drained the bathtub and turned his attention to shampooing his hair. He began by drawing the shower curtain around the antique claw-footed bathtub, then read the instructions on various bottles and tubes. After half an hour, he emerged from the shower, hair clean and skin smooth. He put the pink bathrobe on. It was so short that it felt almost indecent to him. Then he grabbed one of the bath towels. Although he had seen both Mom and Sis with their hair wrapped in a towel in a turban-like style, he had no idea how to do it.

“Sis!” yelled Connor, leaning out the door. “I need your help!”

Caitlin padded in her stocking feet down the hall to the bathroom. “Yes, Li’l Bro. Whatcha need?”

“How do you wrap your hair in a towel?”

His sister smiled and took Connor by the hand, leading him back to the bathroom mirror. “Watch, so you can learn how to do it yourself.”

She wrapped it around his head and then flipped the end back over his crown. “There you go! We’ll have you practice it later. But let’s git-cher nails done, next.”

“My nails done?”

“Mm-hmm! We gotta do your nails,” Caitlin told him. “We do want-cha t’ look right when we do this.”

“I guess this is what I git for not goin’ to the mall with you an’ Mom?”

“Well, you could say that. But on the other hand, you could thaynk of it as a chance t’ have some fun. I sure do,” his sister giggled. “Besides, it’s also a chance to learn somethin’ about how the other half lives.”

“If you say so. Just don’t go tellin’ anyone, okay?”

“I ain’t gonna go blabbin’ it t’ no one that my li’l brother goes aroun’ wearin’ my clothes nor nothin’ like that. After all, it’d embarrass me just as much as you.”

What she said made sense to Connor. He had not thought about it having possible repercussions for his sister, and for her friends to find out might be indeed no less embarrassing to her than to himself. That also helped to settle some of his own anxiety about the situation.

“Sorry, Sis. I hadn’t thought about it that way,” he admitted.

Caitlin smiled at Connor as she inspected his fingernails. They were rather jagged. “Ew! These are scary-lookin’, Li’l Bro,” she observed. “They definitely need some work.”

She began carefully to clip and to file his fingernails–but not too much, though, as he didn’t have much length to them.

“I wonder what color nail polish for you?” Caitlin though aloud.

“Nail polish?” Connor queried in objection.

“Well, of course! Most girls wear nail polish. I always do.” Caitlin examined several bottles before deciding on a soft tint of pink. “I thaynk this softer pink color is subtle enough it ain’t gonna scream at-cha.”

This was definitely weird for Connor as he let his sister paint his fingernails. But she didn’t stop with those, insisting that she do his toenails as well. This proved to be an especially difficult exercise, trying the patience of both.

“Connor! Stop kickin’!” Caitlin yelled at her brother. “Keep your foot still!”

“I can’t help it,” complained her brother. “Those cotton balls tickle my toes. I’m not used to this, so you quit ticklin’ me!”

“Well, I don’t want the nail polish all over everthayng.”

“I still don’t git why I need it on my toenails. You can’t see it anyway once I’m wearin’ shoes.”

“’Cause–well–’cause it’s a girl thayng! No specific reason, I guess. We jus’ do it!”

The odor of the solvent in the nail polish was getting to Connor. How could girls stand the stuff? He was ready to faint from the fumes.

It took a while for Caitlin to finish her brother’s manicure and pedicure. After that, she grabbed a comb and scissors. He seemed to be asleep again, so she shook him by the shoulder

“Connor, exactly how long has it been since you had your hair cut?” she sighed to her brother.

“A couple weeks before summer vacation,” he answered groggily. “Sometime back in May, I think.”

“That’s how many? Nine? Nine months ago! No wonder it looks like a wreck!”

“Jeez! It couldn’t be that bad, could it?”

“Well uh! You guys jus’ don’t know nothin’ about hair, do ya? For one thayng, you got really bad split ends,” remarked Caitlin assessing her brother’s rather long hair. “Anyway, looks like the conditioner got most o’ your tangles out. I’ll hafta trim it first, though, an’ then see what I can do with it.”

“You said somethin’ about a ‘pixie’ cut?”

“Honestly, I don’t thaynk that would be so easy as I thought before. Was gittin’ above myself thaynkin’ I could do that. Besides, until after you shampooed it, I didn’t know just how long it really is. There are other ways I can do your hair right an’ proper an’ not cut too much. You are gonna want it to look like a boy’s haircut again tomorrow, anyway.”

“Yeah, that’s right! Don’t make it too girly or I can’t go back to school.”

Connor heard his sister giggle again. She definitely was getting way too much fun out of this, he thought.

“All right. I know how to fix your hair, then. It’ll look downright cute on you. But you cain’t go lookin’ at the mirror ’til I’m done with it. ’Cause I want it to be a surprise an’ all.”

“Sis?”

“Yes?”

“What are split ends?”

Caitlin just sighed and shook her head.

✽✽✽ −35°C ✽✽✽

He wasn’t sure if it were because of the fumes from the various hair products, the emotional fatigue that he had endured from the shock of such cold weather, or even the simple gentleness of how his sister had handled him while she worked, but Connor had dozed off again while Caitlin was working on his hair. He didn’t know he was asleep until she gently shook him awake once more.

“Connor, you can wake up now! I’ve finished your hairdo. Next we gotta gitcha dressed.”

“What am I gonna wear?”

“I’ve already picked out somethin’ really pretty for you.”

“What?”

Caitlin held up a beautiful turtleneck sweater-dress with a short hemlength. “This is a new dress. It’s a pretty, deep blue an’ it’ll bring out your eye color.”

“So, that’s a good thing?” he wondered aloud.

“Yes. That’s always a good thing,” she said. “A girl always likes to show off her best features. And with eyes like yours, you wanna make sure they git noticed.”

“Sis, I don’t want ’em to git noticed!”

“Well, maybe not today…,” teased Caitlin, flashing her brother a wicked smile. “Anyway, let’s git-cha dressed now.”

She offered Connor a matching pastel blue training bra and panty set. “You can have this set, too, Li’l Bro,” his sister told him. “Obviously, I’ve outgrown them.”

He accepted the delicate garments from her, noting the padded cups of the brassiere. The set of lingerie was in satin and soft to his touch. He held it against his cheek to feel it, then noticed Caitlin smiling at him as he did so.

“Sis, could-ja turn around while I put the underwear on?”

Caitlin turned around and went to her dresser while Connor pulled the panty on underneath the bathrobe, which he immediately shed. As his sister opened a drawer, he quickly put on the training bra, using the maneuver that she’d taught him earlier. She took an unopened package of nude-colored pantyhose from the drawer.

“Put these on next,” instructed Caitlin, handing her brother the pantyhose. He opened the package, and withdrew the pantyhose, which he held against his cheek, just as he had done with the lingerie a moment earlier. His sister noted how carefully Connor gathered each stocking into a ball and worked the fabric up his legs. He then stood to pull the pantyhose up over his panties to his waist.

As her brother struggled with the pantyhose, Caitlin brought the blue dress over to him and unzipped the back.

“You can put dresses on different ways,” explained Caitlin. Some dresses you pull over your head like a sweater, some you step into an’ pull up, like overalls, an’ others you put on like a dress shirt an’ button up. Many dresses hafta be zipped up the back.”

“How d’you know?” Connor asked her.

“It depends on the dress, really,” she answered. Sometimes you might even need another person to help git it on or off. That’s especially so if it zips or buttons up the back.”

“How ’bout this one you want me to wear?”

“This is a sweater-dress an’ you pull it on over your head. It’ll fit like a long sweater, so it won’t feel too strange, but it’ll be warm an’ comf’terble.”

Caitlin helped her brother pull the dress on over his head and down to its full length, somewhat more than mid-thigh for him, since he was not quite so tall as his sister.

“Hmm? Needs somethin’ else…,” mused Caitlin, standing with one hand on her hip. “I know what!” She hopped back to her dresser and opened another drawer and withdrew an inch and a half (4 cm) wide, black, vinyl belt.

“Now, we need t’ git-cha some shoes,” Caitlin thought aloud. She knelt next to her brother and bade him sit again. Three pairs of shoes were lined up next to her vanity, so she took one and slid Connor’s foot into a flat ballet pump.

“Hmm? I can hardly believe this, but your foot’s smaller than mine,” she said, her expression twisting wryly as she thought. This embarrassed Caitlin somewhat, that her feet were larger than Connor’s as well as Mom’s. “Wait a moment, Li’l Bro. Lemme git another pair.”

His sister popped out of the room and returned a few minutes later with a pair of shoes in each hand. “These are Mom’s,” she said. “I think they’ll fit-cha better than mine.”

She slid a pair of four-inch (10 cm) pumps on her brother’s feet. “Try standing up in those.”

Nervously, Connor slowly rose from the seat. He wobbled on the heels as he stood and immediately sat back down.

“Sorry, Sis,” he apologized, “but I don’t think my ankles can take these.”

“I was afraid of that,” acknowledged his sister. “Try these. They’re lower heels.”

Caitlin helped her brother slip off the higher-heeled pair and then step into the two-inch (5 cm) heeled pumps, then buckled the straps around his ankles. She thought that the effect was quite feminine.

“Can you stand okay in those?” she asked Connor. “It helps if you keep your ankles straight.”

“Yeah, these aren’t so bad,” he said, slowly standing up.

“Try taking a few steps with them,” suggested his sister. “And girls tend to take smaller steps than boys, especially in heels. Put one foot in front of the other.”

Caitlin stood to guide Connor by the hand while instructing him: “That’s right… Lock your ankles… Don’t let ’em wobble… Turn on the ball of your foot… Go back to your seat…”

“That was fine, Connor!” she said, smiling at her brother. “We’ll practice more downstairs.”

“Am I done getting dressed yet?”

“Not quite,” said Caitlin as she turned Connor to face the mirror on her vanity. “We gotta do your face now.”

✽✽✽ −35°C ✽✽✽

His mouth agape, Connor could only stare at the girl in the mirror as she matched his each and every move. His sister had carefully applied cosmetics very lightly to his face.

“Is that really me, Caitlin?”

“Yes, it is.”

“My Li’l Bro needs a girl’s name while he’s my Li’l Sis,” said Caitlin. “Have one in mind?”

“Huh? What?” He continued to gaze at the image in the mirror. “I dunno.”

“You’re totally overwhelmed, aren’t you?… Connor?”

“Yeah, I think so. That sounds about right.”

Caitlin smiled while her brother yet stared at the girl that he appeared to be.

“I know! Connie! We’ll call you ‘Connie’!”

“Uh–okay… That’s okay,” he agreed, his eyes still locked on his transformation. Then after a long moment he admitted to her, “I really do look like a girl, and a pretty one at that. I didn’t expect this, Sis. I’m scared!”

“Why’re you scared?” Caitlin asked.

“I’m afraid because–because I think I like how I look,” he answered. “But I don’t want to.”

Connor’s sister hugged him from behind, putting her face next to his. They looked at themselves in the mirror.

“I never realized just how much we look alike–Connie,” said Caitlin. “You really do look like you’re my sister. And the boys would certainly look at you.”

“Oh no!” Connor objected. “I like girls–and only girls.”

“That’s fine by me,” retorted Caitlin. “But I thaynk it’s cool for you to look so much like a real girl. You can really have fun with it if you want to.”

“Well, there’s no way I’m leavin’ the house like this.”

“In this weather there’s no reason for either of us to go outside, really. You already did an’ that’s why you’re dressed up like that now.”

“I know. I’m just afraid of anyone else seein’ me like this.”

Caitlin thought for a moment. Their mother would absolutely have to meet “Connie” when she came home. After all, the result of her little brother’s impromptu, at-home makeover was remarkable. It would be unfair for Mom not to see her son’s feminine side.

“Y’know, it’s almost time for lunch,” she said. “Let’s eat an’ then find somethin’ to do with our afternoon ’til Mom gits home.”

✽✽✽ −35°C ✽✽✽

Connor stood at the top of the staircase and looked down. He’d never thought before about how many stairs were there or how far down it was, but now, wearing his mother’s shoes with two-inch (5 cm) heels, it looked like the sheerest precipice.

“Connie, I’ll stay two or three steps ahead goin’ down. Hold the handrail. I’ll keep you from fallin’ if necessary, but it’s not as hard as it looks.”

“Easy for you to say!” Connor complained wobbling in his sister’s pumps. “How do you girls walk in these at all?”

“Today you git to find out.”

“Take your first step now, Connie,” she told her brother. “Put one foot directly in front of the other… That’s right!… Again… Yes, you’re doin’ jus’ fine!… Again–”

“Feels like my butt’s wigglin’…”

“That means you’re doin’ it right!… Keep a-goin’!”

Connor didn’t even notice that his sister had let go of his arm before he reached the landing of the staircase.

“That’s so different than regular shoes,” he observed. “But you don’t always wear shoes like this, do you?”

“No, not always,” answered Caitlin. “But even when we wear flats, we tend to walk in much the same pattern. The difference between how boys an’ girls walk has more to do with their bodies than their shoes.”

“Howzat?”

“Men lead with their shoulders,” she explained. “Women, with their hips.”

“I’m not sure whatcha mean by ‘lead’ in this case,” noted Connor.

“I’m not so sure how to explain that detail, either,” his sister admitted. “But jus’ watch how me an’ Mom walk an’ try t’ copy us.”

Caitlin walked across the salon and turned to face her brother then slowly strode back towards him.

“Did-ja see how I did that?” she asked him.

“Yeah, but I’m not sure how it was different than how I walk,” Connor remarked. “Exactly what am I watchin’ for?”

“First, I’m taking smaller steps,” she answered walking back to the far side of the room. “An’ watch how I place my feet, too.”

Connor watched intently as his sister emphasized stepping one foot almost directly in front of the other. She also maintained her posture, keeping her shoulders square and nearly motionless.

“Notice how I swing my arms very slightly to the side,” Caitlin demonstrated. “Not too much, though, or you look too obvious.”

“Try it now, Connie,” she said quietly, smiling at her brother.

“Remember, smaller steps than you’re used to…,” she coached. “That’s right!… Smaller steps… One foot right in front of the other… Let your hips work some… Lookin’ good!… Way t’ go, Connie!”

She continued to have him practice walking and turning, stopping and standing. Caitlin note surprisingly that her brother became increasingly focused on learning how to move as she demonstrated.

“Stop now an’ stand with your weight on one leg an’ the other straight out forward an’ a little to the side.… That’s right!… Now cross your arms.… Wow! You nailed that pose!”

Her brother smiled when she told him that. Even though he felt strange and anxious, he still was very much the boy–very competitive in his self-concept–and felt proud that he had succeeded in getting a girlish pose right on the first attempt.

“You’ve got nice legs, Li’l Bro,” she remarked. Yours deserve a pair of higher heels for sure. Other girls’d be so envious of you–I’m even a little jealous, myself!”

Hearing that, Connor blushed deeply.

“Oh, Connie! Don’t be so embarrassed!” Caitlin tried to console her brother. “One thing that a girl has to learn is how to take a compliment. And you look great showing your legs.”

He just stared down at his legs silently.

“Connie, when someone compliments you, what-cha say?” she prompted him.

“Thank you?”

“Uh-huh. Now you askin’ or tellin’?”

“Oh!–Thank you, Sis!”

Caitlin pulled her brother into a hug and kissed him on the cheek. “You’re bein’ such a good sport about this, Connie. You do me proud.”

“Thanks!” he said, returning her hug. “I didn’t think this would be any fun, but it is.”

At that moment, Connor’s tummy growled and his sister giggled. “Think I’m hungry, too,” she said. I wonder if–oh no!–it’s almost one o’clock now, Li’l Sis. We’d better git-cha somethin’ to eat or your waistline’ll soon be smaller than mine!”

Taking his hand, Caitlin led her brother to the kitchen.

“The kitchen stove’s electric, so we can’t cook,” observed Connor.

“I thaynk that’s how Mom found out the power was off this mornin’. It’s also why we had cold cereal for breakfast,” said Caitlin. “So we’ll have to do somethin’ as simple for lunch, too, like salads or sandwiches. I just hope what’s in the fridge is okay.

“You check the pantry for anythayng we can eat without cookin’, Connie,” she said opening the refrigerator door. As she did, her brother peaked in the breadbox and took out a bag of white bread and an opened bag of a fresh loaf of whole wheat bread. Then he walked across the kitchen to the door of the pantry, carefully, as his sister watched how he stepped.

“Still lookin’ good, Li’l Sis!” Caitlin remarked while smiling at him. She gathered a head of lettuce and a few veggies in her arms. “I really thaynk you got-cher walk down.”

“Thank you!” he called back to her from the pantry. Connor browsed the shelves quickly, noting what was stocked in cans, boxes, or jars. Then he realized that they might have yet another practical problem.

“Do we have a can-opener here?” Connor asked.

Caitlin went to the kitchen counter and set the veggies down. Then she rummaged through first a drawer of tableware and next one of cooking utensils until she noticed the new electric can-opener by the sink.

“Just an electric one,” she reported back to her brother.

“Oh, that’s just great!” Connor said in a sarcastic tone. “Most of what’s back here is in cans. But it’d hafta be cooked anyway.”

Going over to the pantry, Caitlin took an apron bearing her name from a hook on the back of the door. As she slipped it on and tied it, she watched her new “sister” reprise the pose that he had learned but a few minutes earlier, arms crossed and leg straight, pointing off to the side. She smiled seeing that he appeared to be using the stance so naturally.

“Caitlin, how do you feel about peanut butter an’ jelly?” asked her brother.

“I’m okay with it, Connie,” answered his sister. “What kinda jelly we got in there?”

“Strawberry… Grape… Oh, goody!–Mom got me some orange marmalade!” Connor giggled. He took the jars of peanut butter and orange marmalade with him from the pantry.

“Sis, what’s your preference for jelly?”

“Strawberry, please.”

“Is there any already opened in the fridge?”

“No.”

Connor returned to the pantry to retrieve the jar of strawberry jam for his sister.

“While you’re over there, wouldja put Mom’s apron on so you don’t spill nothin’ on my new dress,” his sister asked, almost pleading. “Ain’t had a chance yet to wear it, myself.”

Smiling to himself, Connor took the other apron from its hook on the back of the pantry door. He carried it and the strawberry jam to the counter and set the jar down on it. Then he slipped the apron on over his head and tried to tie it behind him, but couldn’t quite manage it.

“Sis, could you help me with this?” he asked.

“Sure thing, Connie.”

His sister came over and tied the pink sash of the apron behind him in a very dainty bow. He couldn’t see how cute in looked nor how naughtily Caitlin grinned seeing how feminine Connor now appeared. If she were not the one who had dressed her brother up, she would have seen him as the girl he appeared to be in a random encounter.

Meanwhile, Connor had noticed that now his sister was addressing him consistently as “Connie.” He couldn’t help but wonder if her using this variant of his name implied more permanence in this new arrangement than he felt warranted.

“Can you prepare the sandwiches while I toss the salad?” asked Caitlin. “And do remember I prefer white bread for mine.”

Connor smiled at his sister and nodded to acknowledge her requests. Quickly, he spread peanut butter and strawberry jam on white bread for Caitlin before making a sandwich of peanut butter and orange marmalade on whole wheat for himself. Then he stacked and cut the sandwiches in two as he had seen his mother and sister do countless times. But he had never before cut sandwiches in two before eating. He wondered if that were a girl’s way of doing it.

“Sis, to drink we have bottled water, skim milk and a limited selection of sodas: cola, diet cola, and ginger ale,” he told her. “What’s your choice?”

“Well, with peanut butter, I almost always like milk, so I guess that’s what I’ll have.”

Taking the milk carton from the refrigerator, Connor decided to have skim milk as well. Since he didn’t know how long the power would be off, it made sense to use the perishable beverage while it was still fresh. The refrigerator had been off for a while, so he didn’t know how much longer it would stay cold without power.

Soon, Connor and Caitlin had made lunch for themselves. They took their salads and sandwiches over to the kitchen table. Connor poured a glass of skim milk for each of them while Caitlin fetched a box of croutons and a small canister of grated parmesan cheese from the pantry. She opened both and set them on the table as well.

“What kinda salad dressin’ d’you want, Connie?”

“Oil an’ vinegar, I think.”

“Hmm! Y’know, I was gonna have French, but oil an’ vinegar soun’ jus’ fine for me, too.”

So Caitlin went to a cabinet over the kitchen counter and took out a small metal tray with a pair of cruets and another with a pair of salt and pepper shakers.

After everything had been placed on the table, Connor moved behind the chair where his sister was about to sit and began to pull it out for her.

“No, Connie!” Caitlin stopped him. “Don’t get my chair!”

“Huh?” he wondered. “But Mom says–”

“I know what Mom’s taught you, that a gentleman always pulls a lady’s seat out for her. But for now, we’re both girls, so we both seat ourselves today.”

“And here I thought I’d be bringin’ Southern gentilesse to Toronto,” he said as he went to pull his own chair out from the kitchen table.

“Stop!” Caitlin commanded as her brother prepared to sit down. “You gotta learn to sit like a lady, too.”

He sighed then asked, “How different can it be?”

“Now watch me again, Li’l Sis,” she continued as she stood to demonstrate. “When a girl goes to sit, she first reaches back behind her and smooths her skirt from her butt down to her hemline as she sits down. That’s to keep the skirt from getting wrinkled. Next, you either cross one leg over the other at the knee or sit with both feet on the floor with your ankles and knees together. Then, if necessary you arrange your skirt so that it’s stretched out as full as its length and cut allows.”

“I can’t believe I’m doin’ this,” muttered Connor sotto voce as he copied his sister’s movements.

“But you are an’ you got it right, too,” Caitlin encouraged him as she took half of her sandwich. “An’ on the first try at that.”

“Thank you, Sis,” he accepted her compliment. “But what I meant is that I can’t believe I let you talk me into this. So now I’m sittin’ here wearin’ your dress an’ high heels.”

As Connor felt himself blushing yet again, Caitlin sat amazed at how feminine he looked. He took a bite of his own sandwich.

“Yes, Connie, but now that you’re wearin’ a pretty dress, I gotta say you look so right in it.”

“I look ‘right’?” Connor asked in disbelief.

“Uh-huh,” affirmed Caitlin. So right.”

“Now why would I look any more ‘right’ in a dress?”

“’Cause since you been wearin’ it, whenever you ain’t been blushin’, you’ve been grinnin’ or smilin’ a whole lot.”

“Well, of course I’ve been blushin’,” Connor agreed. “It’s been really embarrassin’.”

“Maybe, but I don’t know if I ever seen you grin or smile so much in one day before. I kinda thaynk you really do like being dressed up an’ girlified an’ all!”

“Sis!”

“Well, you do!” insisted Caitlin with a giggle. Then she cast him an oblique glance and quietly remarked, “I thaynk I got a little sister who’s been holdin’ out on me.”

Connor stuffed a forkful of salad into his mouth to keep himself from responding to Caitlin’s remark. It had bothered him and he wondered whether deep down it might be true. Indeed he had felt embarrassed in his sister’s clothes, but as those feelings slowly waned, he began to feel somehow different. Yet he was unsure of what the newer feelings were.

“Why did you want me to wear your bra an’ panties, too?” Connor asked. “I just wanted to borrow your tights this morning so I could try to keep warm.”

“I know, Connor,” admitted his sister in a more subdued demeanor. He noted that she had switched back to using his boy’s name. “I guess I just thought it’d be cute to go yankin’ your chain that way,” she confessed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt-cha. I just wanted to have some fun with you. Instead, I only embarrassed you.”

Connor noticed that tears were welling up in Caitlin’s eyes. He understood his sister well enough to know that her contrition was quite real. Besides, he hadn’t put up even token resistance to her scheme today.

“Caitlin, it’s okay!” he assured her. “Look–is it embarrassin’? Yes, but I’ve also had fun doin’ it. And it’s been worth doin’ jus’ to see you smile for the first time since movin’ here.”

Caitlin blushed as she smiled back at Connor, but he also noticed tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Sis,” he addressed her. “What’s wrong? Is it Billy Jim?”

She nodded, biting into a corner of her sandwich. “Havin’ to leave him hurt so much,” she disclosed. “It still does.”

Connor thought for a moment about their sudden move and how his sister had been affected as well as himself. Yet others than themselves had been hurt, too.

“Sis, d’you remember Sally Mae?” he asked.

“Sally Mae Anderson? You mean Helen Anderson’s little tomboy sister?”

“She’s the one, alright.”

“What about her?”

“After the Thanksgivin’ holiday ’til Christmas break, Sally Mae only wore dresses or skirts to school. An’ nice boots or shoes–mostly high-heeled–instead of her sneakers.”

“Our tomboy, Sally Mae Anderson, wearin’ girly-girl clothes? Now how’d that happen?”

“Well, she was dressin’ up for me.”

“Shut up!”

“Now, I didn’t know this until Gage emailed me Saturday night, but Leslie told him Sally Mae had been crushin’ on me bigtime. Apparently, Sally Mae was hopin’ that if she hung out with Leslie, then she could work her way into our group. Or that’s what I found out from Gage, anyway. But I had no idea what was goin’ on while we were still in Miami.

“So now I feel sad for Sally Mae, ’cause she had to ’ve been crushin’ on me awhile before she started dressin’ herself up for me. I don’t even know how long she was tryin’ to git my attention.”

“An’ to thaynk my Li’l Bro got Sally Mae Anderson to wear dresses! Now don’t that beat all?”

“Well, gittin’ someone into a dress isn’t all that hard, is it now, Sis?” he said with a cute, pouty grin.

Caitlin just giggled at the absurdity of his point.

“But seriously,” she asked. “Did-ja like her?”

“Well, she was as nice as anyone else–”

“No! I mean, did-ja like ’er like ’er?”

Connor paused for a moment, looking much more pensive than even for his normal sullen moods.

“I guess now we’ll never know.”

✽✽✽ −35°C ✽✽✽

Clearing the table from lunch took but a minute or two. Caitlin filled the kitchen sink with hot water and dish liquid since without power the electric dishwasher was useless.

“Connie, I’ll wash an’ you dry,” she said handing her brother a clean dishtowel. “You have no idea how excitin’ it is for me to be doin’ dishes with my little sister!”

“Of course I do,” said Connor, batting his eyes at her. “It’s all over your face!”

“Thaynk you might wanna do this again?” asked Caitlin with an almost pleading tone of voice.

“Let’s see how the rest of the day goes first,” cautioned her brother. “So far it’s been kinda fun, but I don’t think I want Mom seein’ me like this.”

“Whyever not?”

“Well, how’d-ja think Mom’s gonna react?”

“Grateful to have another pretty daughter?”

“I sure hope so!” Connor answered nonchalantly, then stopped, blushing yet again. “What am I sayin’? This was your idea anyway, Sis!”

Caitlin could only giggle. “Yes, but you didn’t refuse. You haven’t even complained. I really thaynk you like it.”

Connor flung a dishtowel at his sister and bolted from the kitchen, fearing that she might be right. He thought about what she’d said. And that had frightened him since he’d seen himself in the mirror.

✽✽✽ −35°C ✽✽✽

In the salon, Caitlin found her very confused brother, curled up on the sofa, tears streaming down his face. She sat down next to Connor and putting her arm around him, whispered softly, “What’s wrong?”

“While we were doin’ the dishes together, I suddenly felt like I shoulda been your little sister all along,” he confessed. “Still, I’m a boy, but I like dressin’ up like this. An’ that doesn’t make sense for me.”

Caitlin hugged Connor and kissed his cheek. “Connie, things don’t always hafta make sense. Sometimes, you just accept ’em an’ enjoy ’em.”

Connor hugged his sister back. “You think so?” he ashed.

“Uh-huh,” she confirmed. “An’ maybe I need t’ be nicer t’ my li’l brother when he’s aroun’, too,” she admitted. “We’re both the new kids here, after all. You shouldn’t hafta be in drag for me t’ treat-cha decent.”

“I’m sorry you lost Billy Jim, Caitlin,” consoled Connor, hugging his sister again. “I know it hurt to leave him behind. But you’ll get through it. We’ll both get through this.”

✽✽✽ −35°C ✽✽✽

“So now what, Sis?” Connor mused aloud. “Nothing electronic is working today–no tee-vee or videogames–no Internet–no music.”

“Wait!–Yes!” Caitlin beamed with a wild look in her eyes. “We can do music?”

“But how?” wondered her brother. “There’s no power and both of us forgot to recharge our music players.”

“Do you only define music as what comes out of an electronic device?”

“What?”

“Have you been practicing your violin since we moved here?” she inquired. “You do have it here, don’t you?”

“Upstairs in my bedroom,” he replied.

“Then go git it!” Caitlin told him with just a hint of anticipation in her voice. “Then we’ll set up at the piano.”

Connor himself was just excited enough to forget that he was wearing two-inch heels until he was halfway up the staircase and stopped.

“Sis, what do I do now?” he asked nearly in panic. “I’ve never gone upstairs in high-heels before.”

“Keep on goin’!” Caitlin advised her brother. “You’re almost there. You’d ’ve been there already if you hadn’t worried ’bout it.”

So Connor steeled himself to take the rest of the stairs in but a few seconds. He noticed that the cadence of his heels sounded a little different going up the hardwood stairs than when he had come down. And the sound was different yet than when walking on the kitchen tile. But his ankles were still wobbly as he climbed the remaining stairs.

“I’m afraid I’ll twist an ankle in these, Sis.”

“Millions of us girls wear heels everyday,” Caitlin yelled up the stairs. “While we do get hurt wearin’ ’em now an’ then, we do mostly get aroun’ all right.”

Connor just rolled his eyes a moment and continued to his room. His new bedroom had a huge walk-in closet in which he had put his violin in its case on the main shelf with room to spare. But his eye caught his own reflection in the mirror on the back of the closet door, still open since the morning.

The girl looking back at him seemed way too pretty. He was a boy in a dress. That couldn’t be him, could it? Connor began striking the same sequence of poses that he had practiced for Caitlin, but now seeing for himself how he looked in the mirror, losing track of time.

✽✽✽ −35°C ✽✽✽

Caitlin found a couple of scores for violin and piano inside the bench when she lifted the seat. She mounted those on the music rack above the keyboard of their baby grand piano.

She was happy that the piano had been moved in along with their other furniture the week before. It was larger than their house in Miami had been. They had a nice, large room on the ground floor that Mom had designated as their “conservatory.” To have such a room, just for music, had always been a dream of their mother’s. So now, this room’s closet would be used for music stands, instrument cases, and Mom’s ’cello.

Caitlin took a music stand and a folding chair from the closet and set them up next to the piano so that Connie could read by natural light. She also noticed that she might need to reposition the piano slightly to use the sunlight better, herself. Since the tiny wheels had just been lubricated before moving, she needed but a moment or two to find the best angle then to step on the brake lever to hold it it in place.

So she was ready, sat down at the piano, and played a quick run of scales and a flurry of arpeggios, her first ever in Canada. Then Caitlin wondered suddenly, what was keeping Connie?

✽✽✽ −35°C ✽✽✽

Caitlin couldn’t help but smile as she saw Connor watching himself in his mirror. Maybe he really did like being a girl? He was practicing what she had taught him before lunch. And he was striking the poses quite well, as if he were a confident young lady hoping to become a fashion model. She noted especially her girled-up brother in the quietly angry pose with crossed arms and one leg forward and to the side. That was perhaps his most girlish stance.

Connor was oblivious to his sister watching him strike the various poses that he had learned from her. She tried to suppress her urge to laugh by tightening her lips, but only succeeded in sputtering into giggles.

“What? Caitlin?” Connor yelped in surprise. “How long’ve you been there?”

“A few minutes,” his sister giggled as she padded over to embrace him in yet another hug. “I wondered what was taking you so long?”

“I just didn’t wanna forgit what you showed me.”

“To think that my little brother is such a girl!”

“Well, it was your idea, Sis,” Connor reminded Caitlin as he took his violin case from the closet shelf.

“Maybe, but it’s not all my doin’, either,” retorted his sister. “You like it and you know it, too.”

Thus Caitlin had stated Connor’s most embarrassing truth: that he did like his sister dressing him up. She had called his bluff. Still, he was enjoying it too much to stop. He just hoped that Mom would let them continue when she came home.

“Yeah,” he agreed. But if you hadn’t dressed me up, I wouldn’t hafta think about it.”

“Well, you did ask for my tights,” his sister reminded him as she started down the staircase.

“But I didn’t want the panties and bra,” he answered following her down. “You insisted on those.”

“I didn’t hear you protesting.”

“You never gave me the chance.”

✽✽✽ −35°C ✽✽✽

The snowplows had cleared the streets of Felicia’s neighborhood that morning and had kept them so. She smiled as she turned onto the covered driveway next to her new home. She knew as soon as she drove into the vicinity that the power was still down, as the traffic signals were not yet working, nor were the streetlights illuminating anything against the gray afternoon skies. But she was home early today, not returning directly from her new workplace, but after stopping to launder three loads of clothing for her son and daughter as well as herself.

As her car’s headlights shone up along the driveway, Felicia noted that the door to the garage was open and apparently snow had drifted inside during the day. She had opened the door manually that morning, but also had forgotten to stop and close it again before driving off to work. She was accustomed to using a remote control to close a garage door.

Felicia pulled into the garage and turned the car engine off. Then she pulled her coat snugly around herself, opened the car door, and ran back to pull the garage door closed. She didn’t bother to unload anything from the car, but just shut the door on the driver’s side as she went into the kitchen.

Cold. Frigidly cold.

She had agreed to the move to keep her job. Now, Felicia hoped that she and her teenagers would believe it were worth it.

The kitchen was getting dim and shadowy. As far north as they were, the sun began to go down much earlier in the afternoon than Felicia was used to. Then she thought she heard music coming from inside the house–not recorded music, but a violin and a piano. Could that be Caitlin and Connor playing together?

She just had to look in on them, so the surprised mother walked across the salon to stowe her coat in the closet. As she did, she could hear the music clearly and recognized the Beatles’ tune “Yesterday.”

Felicia quietly walked down the short hallway to the music room and saw her daughter at the piano and another girl playing violin.

“Caitlin, who’s your new friend there?”

Both young musicians turned in surprise towards Felicia, but the violinist made direct eye contact with her.

“Mom!” exclaimed the violinist in the pretty blue dress.

“Connor?”

© 2012-2013 by Anam Chara