Quarantine: 1 - Stir Crazy

 

Stuck in quarantine with nothing to occupy his mechanically inclined mind, Jordan
is looking for a project to keep himself busy.

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Author's Note: This was just a little something to write during the Covid quarantine. I sometimes wonder if my mind might drift like Jordan's? Heh! But seriously, please do leave me a review of this story's plot premise! I would like to know if it is as fun as I think. ~Clara.
 
This version of Quarantine: 1 - Stir Crazy has been updated with many corrections towards spelling and grammar.~Sephrena.
 
Image Credit: Image created through the use of ai at https://perchance.org/beautiful-people .~Sephrena.

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Chapter 1
 

"I'm telling you the truth, auntie." Jordan rubbed his forehead as he sat at his aunt's kitchen table, pushing the mop of messy, matted, curly, mousy-brown hair out of his eyes. "If we have to stay in quarantine much longer, I swear I'll go out of my mind!" It had been fifty days since he'd had to abandoned his dormitory in New York City and take shelter with his aunt and his cousins in rural Massachusetts.

Mary took a sip of her coffee and shrugged at her nephew. "I don't know what to tell you, Jordan. We're all going a little crazy around here. Do a puzzle. Read a book. Take a walk. Find a way to keep yourself busy. Frances and Robbie are dealing with this situation. You need to, too. I know how much you like to keep busy, but this is the way the world is tight now, honey."

"They're on their phones talking to friends twenty-four-seven, Aunt Mary. That would drive me crazy, too! I've done all the puzzles I can find and I've been taking, like, four walks a day. I don't mind being alone, in fact, I kind of prefer it, but I need something to do, something to fix, something to make. I can't believe there's no tools in this house at all!"

The truth was, Jordan didn't have a lot of friends to talk to, anyway. He'd always preferred to be alone and found nearly any social interaction uncomfortable. He was a tinkerer and always had some kind of a project on his workbench, even in his dorm. It was this quality that was allowing him to excel as a mechanical engineering major.

Mary considered Jordan's whining for a few moments. She'd always found the boy fascinating - intense and intelligent about anything mechanical. A ball of kinetic energy squeezed into his tiny, five foot-one body. She could see he was desperate to keep his hands busy.

Two months ago, when the virus' impact on New York City started closing the city down, Jordan had no place to go. His parents, both physicians, had taken advantage of their son moving out and going to college to sell their home and sign on to work with Doctors Without Boarders. They'd found themselves in China at the start of the pandemic and could not, in good conscience, leave while the population around them suffered the impact of the disease. When Mary's older sister called and asked if Jordan could stay with her and her stepdaughters, who, at that time, were also headed home from their respective colleges, she was more than willing to have him join them in their old, twenty four room farmhouse. Plenty of room! Of course, no one expected the quarantine to last this long, let alone go on without end. Certainly Jordan didn't. He showed up with a couple of days clothes and his bamboo fiber pillow and not much else. Already, clothing was an issue for Jordan. When his clothes needed to be laundered, he was resorting to wearing one of his cousin Roberta's old bath robes, which hung far too loosely from his meager frame.

A thought occurred to Mary. "Jordan, I just thought of something! There IS a small toolbox in the house. It's in your great grandmother's sewing room out in the old servant's wing. Come with me and I'll dig it out for you."

"Cool!" The boy jumped up, excited.

The eighteenth century behemoth of a house had, at one time, had servants' quarters which had never had a heating system installed. When Jordan arrived in March, it was too cold to go exploring in that wing. Now that the beginning of May was bringing warmer weather, he was excited to go exploring. So, he followed his aunt up the stairs.

"What's up?" Frances asked as she ran into her stepmother and cousin in the hallway.

"Jordan and I are going to dig out the tool box in great grandma's sewing room."

Frances, the older daughter of Mary's late husband's first marriage was a good head taller than her step mother and at least another half a head taller than her cousin. "Oh, good. Maybe that'll occupy you're A.D.D., Jordie!" she teased.

"You guys are the ones with A.D.D.," he teased back, good naturedly. "I just need to keep my hands busy to help me think."

"If you'd like to play video games with us," Robbie, Frances' younger sister, called from the upstairs den, "you're always welcome!"

Jordan smiled at the offer. "Thanks, but I don't really know how to play video games."

"Ok," Ronnie turned her attention back to the game, "but the offer stands. You're always welcome."

"Thanks, Robbie."

Robbie was nearly the same size as her step mother, but a bit bustier. Both girls were very good looking without being overly into makeup of expensive clothes. They both preferred dresses to skirts or pants, but they had their tomboy qualities, too, especially when it came to their 'win at all costs' instinct when playin video games. The few times that he had joined them for a round of Mortal Combat or even Candy Crush, he found himself destroyed by their aggressive manner of gaming.

Mary continued down the hall and pulled back the heavy curtain that hid the door to the servants' wing and kept the cold air out of the rest of the house in the depth of Massachusetts winters.

The first room on the right, which had once been the servant's common room, was the largest of the rooms in that wing and when Mary's grandparents had bought the house in the nineteen fifties, her grandmother had claimed that room as her sewing room.

Mary opened the door and led him into the shelves of carefully stored bolts of fabric and file cabinets neatly filled with sewing patterns.

"Wow!" Jordan looked around. "She was serious about sewing, huh?"

Mary laughed. "She was, but she was also a pack-rat and never threw away anything. I haven't had the heart to clean the room since she passed away. Look around, now. There is a green tool box on one of these shelves."

After a few moments of searching, Jordan said, "Here it is!"

He pulled the box out and placed it on the large table in the center of the room. His excitement at finding the toolbox dissipated when he opened it and found nothing but a tack hammer and a selection of very small screwdrivers.

Mary saw his shoulders slump at the revelation. "I'm sorry, Jordie." She rubbed his shoulders. "I didn't know what was in it. I guess these were just for grandma to fix her sewing machine."

Jordan nodded, then said, "Machine?"

"What?"

"You said 'machine.' Is there a sewing machine here?"

Mary smiled at his excitement. "Yes. It's in that black case behind you, but it hasn't worked in decades. Grandma gave up sewing because of her arthritis and my mom only used it for occasional repairs. I remember the last time it was out was when your mom ripped her winter coat and my mom tried to sew it back up. She couldn't get it to work, so it got put in its case and left here."

May I look at it!?" Jordan was suddenly very engaged.

"Of course," Mary smiled.

"It's heavy," Jordan grunted as he lifted it up onto the table.

"It's a professional model," Mary said, whetting his interest even more.

When he opened the lid, the machine was still covered in thread and looked as if it was ready to use, but it also looked overly complicated, which piqued his interest even more.

"Umm, Aunt Mary... would you mind of I took a shot at getting this working, again? I mean, it's already broken, so I can't do any harm, and I could go online and see what I could find out about it... I think I might be able to get it working for you!"

Mary didn't have the heart to tell the boy that no one was really looking to use the machine, and if anyone actually had an interest in sewing, a new machine would probably be a lot easier to operate and wouldn't cost all that much, anyway. So, rather than discourage him, she smiled and said, "You know what, Jordan - that would be a great help! I'd love to have a working sewing machine around here. If you can get that working again, I'd be very grateful!"

Jordan was suddenly smiling. "Great! Let me just take a picture of the model number and I'll go online and see what I can find out. This is awesome! I'm excited!"

Mary smiled. "I'm glad honey. This should keep you busy for a few weeks."
 

 

"Ahem." Mary cleared her throat as they all ate the chicken pie that she'd made for supper.

Frances and Robbie looked at their cousin, then back at each other, smiling. When Robbie glanced at her mother, Mary jerked her head towards the boy and said, 'Ahem," once again.

Giggling, Robbie knocked on the table in front of the tablet that had captured Jordan's attention. He jumped a bit and looked about, confused.

"Mom's been trying to get your attention, Jordie," Robbie laughed.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "What...?" It was more of a question or 'What's going on?' than 'What do you want?'

"At this point," Mary said with a matronly air, "I wouldn't think that I'd have to say this, but meal time is family conversation time, Jordie. Now, put that iPad away until after dinner."

"The iPad?" It took a moment for him to reentered the reality of the kitchen.

"Yes." Mary stifled the giggle and maintained the matronly delivery.

"Oh..." He closed the cover on his iPad and placed it on a side table.

"So-" Mary looked around. "What's new with everyone?"

Frances laughed now. "Nothing's new, mom. It's been the same old same old for two months, now. We get up, we do the busy week we get from school, we play some video games, clean a little bit around the house, have dinner, watch a little TV and go to bed. What's new with you?"

Mary shrugged. "Nothing I guess. I can't wait to have clients coming back to the salon. I feel a bit useless around here."

"Oh, mom," Robbie said, remembering something, "Alison's mother asked if she could buy some of her hair dye from you. Alison says that her mom's roots are really showing."

Mary nodded. "Tell her that I'll go out to the salon tomorrow and get it ready for her. I'll put it in a paper bag with her name on it on the table out front. She can come by and pick it up when it's convenient for her. Tell her to leave the money in the Mason jar on the picnic table."

The two seat beauty salon that Mary's late husband had built for her in the barn was initially meant to be just a little side-money for Mary while the girls were at school. Then, when her husband dies very suddenly, it became their sole income, but she did manage to make a good living. Now, after two months of quarantine... well, the money in the bank account, much of which came from her husband's insurance policy, wasn't going to last forever.

She didn't want to dwell on that, though.

"How about you, Jordie?" She changed her train of thought. "What were you so engrossed in?"

"Me?" Jordan seemed surprised that he'd been included in the conversation, he to be honest, he always seemed a bit disconnected from his surroundings.

Frances shook her head. "Yes, Jordie. You. Mom asked what you were reading on your iPad?"

"Oh... um... I found the schematics for great grandma's sewing machine and I was trying to get my head around it. It's a surprisingly complicated little machine." He went on a two minute explanation of the complex nature of the Mis-twentieth century device, describing it in terms that made no sense to the three women at the table. "I'm looking forward to getting to work on it tomorrow." His previously vacant expression had been replaced by a big smile.

Robbie reached over and squeezed his hand in hers. "You know you're like the biggest nerd in the world, right?" Her smile told Jordan that she meant no malice, but was just playing with him.

"Alright, Roberta." Mary's matronly tone was back. "Stop teasing your cousin."

"I'm not teasing, mom. I'm stating the obvious, right Jordie?"

"Sure," he chuckled. "I mean, calling me a nerd is like calling a basketball player tall. It's just the truth. I don't mind at all. I call myself a nerd all the time."

"Well, enough of that for now. Let's just finish our dinner and be nice to each other."

After a few moments of silence, Frances asked, "Mom, maybe when you go out to the salon, do you think that Robbie and I could get our hair trimmed?"

Mary smiled. "Sure, honey. Are you looking for a change, or just a trim?"

"Just a trim for me, mom. To neaten it up."

"Yeah, me too," Robbie nodded, swallowing a piece of chicken pie.

"Ok," Mary smiled. "No problem."

Then she spied her nephew glancing to his right to try to sneak a peek at his iPad. "How about you, Jordie?"

"Hmm?" He looked at his aunt, knowing he'd been caught obsessing on his project. "How about me, what?"

She smiled. "Tomorrow morning, when I go out to the salon to make up the hair dye for my customer, can I neaten up your hair while I'm neatening up the girls'?"

"My hair?" It seemed odd to Jordan. "Auntie, I haven't cut my hair in... in years."

"Yes, I know, and it looks like that. In fact, it's been driving me crazy since you arrived. So, tomorrow, come out to the salon while I'm working and I'll neaten it up for you."

She could see that he was about to protest, so she spoke again. "Don't worry, Jordan, I am not going to give you a crew cut. I'm just going to trim up those split ends and get some of those nasty mats and snarls out. I'm sure that you'd feel better if we could actually run a comb through that rat's nest on your head."

"But I have to work on..." he began, but Mary held up her hand in a 'this is my final word' gesture.

"No more discussion. One of these days we are going to be able to leave this house and when we do, we are going to look like proper human beings. So - tomorrow. Nine o'clock. Out in the salon. All of us. The Queen has spoken."

"But..."

"The sewing machine can wait, Jordie. It's been sitting there for a decade or more. It's not going anywhere. Let's deal with some self-care first. We'll all feel better if we get cleaned up a little. That was an excellent suggestion, Frannie. Now, I've made butterscotch pudding for dessert, so let's finish up so we can all enjoy that."
 

 

At seven thirty the next morning, Mary stepped out of the shower, toweled off, put on her robe and headed back to her room to dress, but she stopped when she heard a noise coming from an unusual part of the house. It was an odd sound, too - like - scratching and movement and small grunts and groans. What the heck was that?

She moved quietly down the hall, fearful that a raccoon or, God help us, a possum, had gotten into the less used part of the house. As she passed the doorway where the heavy winter drapes hung, and prepared to step into the servant's quarters, the sound grew louder. She stopped, then realized that the sound was coming from the first room on the right - grandma's sewing room.

She relaxed a little and peeked in to find Jordan, disheveled as usual, lost in his work, pieces of the sewing machine laid neatly on grandma's work table.

There was that intensity that always amazed her about this boy. His peculiar genius was on display. She'd seen this intellect in him since he was a child and it never failed to amaze her.

Mary and her sister had remained close throughout their life and when Jordie was little, Mary had him with her almost as much as his own mother did. Mary married late, she was in her late thirties, and with her husband came the children he'd had with his late, first wife. Frances, a year older than Jordie and Robbie a year younger, had been good to their new cousin, but, Jordan being Jordan, he had a hard time relating to his peers, particularly female peers who seemed to vex him more than males.

"You're at it early," she said, surprising him a bit.

"Oh... yeah... I didn't wake you, did I? Sorry if I did."

"No, honey, you're not apt to wake anyone out here. I was up and heard you, though. How about I make you an egg sandwich in a half an hour or so, then, when the girls are ready, we can go out to the salon and get ourselves cleaned up?"

Jordan sighed. "Oh, gee, auntie, I don't know. I'm just getting this underway and..."

"No, Jordie, we discussed this. You know how you can get when you're focused on a project. You need to set boundaries."

"...but..."

"No 'buts,' Jordie. You've been like this since you got your first Lego set. You shut the world out and you're hyper focused for days on end. Now, that'll be a great thing when you're older and working for NASA, but for now, you need to focus on not only that machine, but on your health and well being. When this is all over, I will not be put into the position of having to explain to your parents that you got sick because you didn't eat right or keep yourself clean. Set an alarm on your phone - thirty minutes from now, you are to be in the kitchen. Understood?"

He heaved a huge sigh. "Understood."

"Good." She smiled. He was a great kid, but he could lose himself too easily. His mother and father were always wrapped up in their own worlds, too. This hiatus from the world could be good Jordie. Maybe a different kind of structure was just what the boy needed. He needed a new perspective on the world. "You're a good kid, Jordie."

He looked up and smiled at his aunt, a little confused by her smile. "Thanks, auntie. I'll be down in thirty minutes."
 

 

"Ok," Mary stepped into the small salon in her barn, "Robbie, you jump into the blue chair and Jordie, you jump into the yellow one. I'll wash Robbie's hair and Frannie, you wash Jordie's. Give him two shampooing and," she paused and grabbed a plastic bottle from a cabinet shelf, "condition his hair with this. It's a de-tangler. Let it sit for ten minutes or so before you rinse. Maybe that will help untangle that rat's nest and I won't have to shave him bald."

"Auntie...!" Jordan began to protest, but Francis patted him on the chest and guided him towards the yellow seat.

"She's kidding, Jordie. Relax," his oldest cousin said.

He sat and Francis reclined the seat so that his head was in a sink. As soon as she began to run the water through his hair, though, she realized that her mother wasn't kidding, not completely, anyway. "Whoa, your hair really is tangled, Jordie. When was the last time you brushed it?"

He shrugged. "I don't really think about how my hair looks. I wash it and I dry it with a towel. That's all."

"Well, young fellow," she teased, "this is your lucky day, because by the time mom is done with you, your going to be able to feel air on your scalp for the first time in..." she tried to run her fingers through his wet hair, "... in forever... I'd guess."

It was an odd feeling for Jordan to have someone else shampoo his hair. He wasn't really a 'touchy-feely' kind of guy, in fact, he didn't really like being touched all that much. That is, until...

Since he was a little boy, Jordan knew that he was different than the other kids. He didn't hug his parents the way other kids did. He didn't like to touch certain textures. He didn't make friends..

...but then there was his Aunt Mary. She kind of 'got' him in a way that no one else did. As far back as he could remember, Aunt Mary never looked at him like he was weird. She had a look that just said, 'We Are Family.'

He remembered going to Aunt Mary's wedding when he was eleven. He was actually angry with her husband. He seemed like an ok guy, but he was taking Auntie Mary away from him. He was providing her with two girls to bring up. She wouldn't need him any more.

But then, the weirdest thing happened.

The girls...

They were just as nice and welcoming as Auntie Mary. At first he figured that she must have told the girls to be nice to her weird nephew, but that wasn't the case at all. They were just genuinely nice people and they seemed to like him, too. Just like Aunt Mary did.

Whenever he saw Aunt Mary or the girls, each visit began and ended with a hug from each of them, and it was odd... he liked their hugs... a lot. He actually looked forward to seeing them and when the girls would touch his arm or leg while they were talking, or fooling around playing a board game or something, he liked that, too.

In the last two months, though, he'd been touched and hugged and even kissed on his cheeks dozens of times every day! He should be horrified, but... it was great and he looked forward to each hug, touch and kiss.

So, he wasn't really a 'touchy-feely' kind of guy, in fact, he didn't really like being touched all that much. That is, until...

... now.

Now, these familial gestures felt wonderful. Like friendship. Like family. Like love.

After the de-tangler conditioner had been in Jordan's hair for ten minutes, Francis rinsed it as best she could. "I don't know, mom," she said quite seriously, "it's still pretty bad. Should I condition his hair, again?"

"No, no." Mary continued to trim Robbie's hair. "The rinse can only do so much. I'll work on him as soon as I'm done with Robbie. It's a long, slow process. I have to start on the edges of the mat and slowly pull it apart."

"Ewww." Francis made a face. "Sounds painful. I don't envy you, Jordie."

"Oh, stop it," Mary laughed. "I've untangled the hair of people with dreadlocks. I can handle a messy boy."

It was, in fact, a challenge, even for a pro like Mary, to remove all of Jordan's mats, but two hours later and with a minimal amount of cutting, she was finally able to run a comb through his hair.

Mary breathed a heavy sigh. "That was a challenge!" She laughed as she looked at her newly de-tangler nephew sitting in her 'styling' chair. "Before I trim off your split ends, Jordie, I'm going to have Robbie wash your hair once more, using a medicated shampoo. Your hair was so matted that you actually have some sores on your scalp and the medicated shampoo will help to clean those. It may sting a little, but the choice is either start healing your scalp with some daily maintenance, or we shave you bald, right now."

"Don't shave it off, auntie," he said a bit shocked at the idea. "I'll do whatever needs to be done to heal it."

"That's a good boy," Mary chuckled, patting his shoulder. "Franny, come sit in the chair and I'll take care of you while Robbie shampoos your cousin."

"Ok, mom," Frances said as she took the seat that Jordie was vacating.

"Right this way, sir," Robbie teased as she used a towel and snapped it on the seat, pretending to clean it. "I think you'll like this seat. It's well padded and has a lovely view of the ceiling."

Jordan stopped for a moment and looked from his cousin to the ceiling, not understanding her teasing.

"Just sit, Jordie," Robbie giggled. "I'm just joking."

"Ow!" Jordan let out when the medicated shampoo hit his scalp.

"I haven't even touched you," Robbie laughed.

"It stings. It stings a lot!" Jordan said very concerned.

"Jordie," Mary never took her focus off of Frances' hair, "you let your hair get so matted that it stopped the flow of air to your scalp. You have some serious sores there. They will start healing in a day or so if you let us treat it. Otherwise, you'll end up getting your head shaved in a hospital so they can treat it, and, baby, if you go into a hospital right now, having your head shaved may be the least of your concerns."

Robbie looked at her cousin with sympathy. "You're ok, though, right, Jordie. I mean, I want to wash your hair for you, but I don't want to hurt you."

He nodded. "I'm ok, I guess."

"Ok, I'll be gentle." Robbie continued to work, using the hand held shower head to work on his scalp as gently as possible.

"That's funny that you called him, 'baby,' mom," Frances mentioned. "I don't think I've ever heard you call anyone by that name."

Mary smiled. "I used to always call Jordie my baby," she glanced over to be sure that her quiet words were covered by the sound of the water.

"Yeah?"

"Sure. He was kind of my baby, Franny. You know my sister and her husband. They're brilliant, but... well... I guess 'clinical' is the perfect word. I think they learned to compartmentalize their feelings because of their careers as doctors. You treat dying people day in and day out... it does something to you. That took its toll on Jordie, too. You girls... from everything I know, your mom doted on you both and, of course I know how much your dad loved you."

As Mary was combing her bangs out, Frances grabbed her stepmother's hand and pulled it to her lips, kissing her knuckles and hugging the hand. "And don't forget you, mom. You made us feel loved when we were trying to figure out why God had taken our mother away from us. You've always been our mom, too."

Mary smiled at the twenty one year old in front of her. She was beautiful without trying, just like her sister. Maybe that had to do with how beautiful she actually was inside. This was a prime example of her beauty. Neither Frances nor Robbie ever let Mary forget that they thought of her as their mom, that she occupied the same place in their hearts as did their late mother and father.

"You're a blessing." Mary kissed her forehead. "You and Robbie both. Always have been. Always will be." She leaned forward and rested her forehead against the side of Franny's. "Even if I'd found someone when I was younger, I could never have given birth, but... I could not love you and Robbie more if I'd carried you in my own womb."

She sighed at how lucky she was and went back to trimming Frances' bangs.

As Robbie wrung out Jordan's hair, she said, "Jordie, you need to throw that shirt out. It's filled with holes, and... and I hope I don't offend you, but... it smells of body odor." She wrapped his hair in a turban and helped him to sit up.

"I know, but it's the last shirt I have left. I only brought three and I wore out the other, two."

Frances kept her head steady, but glanced over as Jordie sat, legs splayed, in the shampoo chair. "Whoa! You need more than a shirt, Jordie! You're putting on a heck of a show, right now!"

"Oh, sorry!" Jordan turned red as he snapped his knees together.

Not having seen, Mary turned and looked at her red faced nephew. "What did I miss?"

"All I said was that he needed to throw out his shirt." Robbie shrugged. "It's ripped and smells."

Mary sighed. She couldn't afford to buy new clothes, right now. Money was too tight.

"His pants are ripped, too, mom," Frances said. "Right up the crotch."

Mary shook her head. "Show me," she said, more sternly than usual.

Jordan just shook his head.

"Jordan James Alden," she scolded. "I will not ask you again."

Jordan just looked the floor and shook his head.

Sensing Mary's impatience and a little upset that she'd been so indiscreet, Frances said, "Mom... he can't... he's not wearing underwear."

"What!?" Mary was shocked. "Why on earth not?"

Jordan just wanted to crawl into a hole and die, but he answered, nonetheless. "I only brought two pairs and they were already old. I had to throw them out. I asked dad to help and he said he'd figure out how to set up an Amazon gift card for a few hundred dollars so that I could get new clothes, but... that was back in March. He never followed through and I haven't heard from either him or mom since then."

"Alright, alright, alright..." Mary shook her head in frustration. Her sister and brother-in-law were both very successful and, as a result, they were a wealthy family. This adventure with Doctors Without Boarders was the first truly selfless thing either of them had ever done - even going into the medical profession was purely a financial decision. Unfortunately for Jordan, though, they'd ended up in China just prior to the most contagious outbreak in at least a century, possibly in history.

Also, unfortunately for Jordan, Mary was stretched just about as thin as she possibly could be before her financial elasticity snapped. They had food in the extra fridge and freezer and, living in a rural area meant that there was plenty of small farms selling meat, so they were getting by, but they were one financial challenge away from oblivion.

"Why on earth didn't you tell me about this, Jordie? I don't want you living in rags." Mary shook her head.

"Because... well... you've been so generous already, auntie, and, well, I don't have any money and I know that you haven't been working, so... there's really nothing I can do."

Sadly, he was right. "Well... we'll finish up in here and... we'll figure something out. In the meantime, Robbie, drape a towel over his lap, please."

When Mary finished trimming Frances' hair, she went to work on Jordan's. "Oh, my..." she looked through his hair and inspected his scalp. "Robbie, go into the first aid kit and get some Neosporin for me. Franny, grab some Q-Tips. Jordie, I'm going to put some medication on some spots on your scalp. It won't hurt. Ok?"

"Ok."

She coated a swab with the ointment and worked for a few minutes before becoming frustrated.

"Your hair is curling as it dries," Mary said through a frustrated exhale. "Honey... I'm going to use a flat iron to straighten your hair so that I can see what I'm doing. It won't hurt, either, but I need to keep your hair out of the medication as much as possible. Ok?"

"Sure, I guess." Jordan shrugged, really wanting to leave the salon and get back to his sewing machine project.

The smell of the flat iron on his hair was like nothing he'd ever smelled before, but Mary assured him that it was normal for the iron to burn, a little.

"Good heavens, Jordie," Mary marveled as she looked at the completely straightened crop of hair on her nephew's head, "without all the mats and after straightening the curls, your hair touches your shoulders." She chortled a bit. "I had no idea that you had this much length."

"Wow," Franny smiled, "it actually looks nice, Jordie. I'd almost say it was pretty."

"Look at how nice it looks," Mary turned him towards the mirror. "Nice, huh?"

"How did you do that?" he asked.

"Do what, baby?"

"I mean... did you add artificial hair pieces or something? My hair isn't that long."

Mary and the girls all thought that was funny. "Of course it is, Jordie," Mary laughed. "Its just been all curled up and matted. This is how long your hair actually is and every morning for the next week or so, you are going to have to come out here with one of us so we can straighten your hair and check on those sores on your head."

"Everyday!?"

"Everyday, baby. I want you to be healthy, and those sores are serious business. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'm," Jordan sulked.

"Good. Now let me just neaten up a few things and we'll go into the house and figure out how to deal with your clothing issues."
 

 

Robbie took Jordan into the house while Franny and Mary took care of reorganizing the salon.

"Mom," Franny asked, tentatively, not wanting to sound too judgmental, "Is Jordan... I mean... is he ok? You know... mentally?"

Mary stopped to think of the correct answer.

"Look, mom, I'm just asking. I think he's a great kid and I've always enjoyed spending time with him on holidays and all, but we've never been with him this long before, and..." she could see her stepmother searching for the right words and, not wanting to upset her she withdrew the question. "Never mind, mom. I guess that's kind of rude, huh?"

"No, honey, it's not rude. It's an honest question and I'm trying to think of an honest answer. Jordie has always been... different. Small. Delicate. Intense. Overly focused on the tiniest things. He has a hard time with new people and new situations. He stresses over everything, but... the boy is brilliant, Franny. He's brilliant in ways that my sister could never see. He's a great student, sure, but I have never known anyone who understood how everything - and I mean EVERYTHING - works the way that he does. He's got the most mechanical mind I've ever seen, but it's almost all concrete-thought. His imagination is... let's just say - under-developed. I was really hoping that spending time with you girls might open him up to some creative thinking a bit and some socialization, but..."

Frances nodded. "You should have told us, mom. We would have worked harder to get him to join in with us."

Mary shook her head. "No. It can't be forced, Franny. He needs to open up to us of his own free will."

"Was he ever tested? You know, for autism or Aspergers? Or anything like that?"

"Oh... I doubt it, honey, but that would just put a label on what I've always known. He's a great kid, honey, and if he could apply the creative side of his mind even half as well as he applies the concrete thinking side, there's no telling what he could accomplish."

"So... how can we help?"

Mary kissed her stepdaughter's forehead. "By being patient with him and showing him as much love and acceptance as possible, even if he does come across as a little odd. Remember - Jordie isn't weird. He's family. Just treat him like family and he'll find his way."

"Ok," Frances nodded as she processed all that had been said, "but to start, I think I might have something in my dresser that might help him."
 

 

"These are the only pant-bottoms I have," Robbie said, holding out a pair of dark green leggings. "I'm sorry. Try them on. They're pretty comfortable. I bought them for gym class in middle school."

Jordan took the leggings tentatively, and nodded.

"They're just pants, Jordie. They're better than what you're wearing. I'm sure mom will work something out soon."

Again, he just nodded.

"Oh, good," They heard Frances in the next room. "Hey," she said as she entered Robbie's room, "I found these in my drawers. I bought them back in the fall and they got the size wrong. I meant to return them, but I forgot about them until now."

She handed him a package made of soft, plastic sheeting. On the front of the package, the label read, 'Six Pack, Boy Shorts, Hipster, Small."

The Jockey brand underwear had a 'Y-front,' just like men's underwear, but the colors wear very different than any underwear he'd ever seen. Pinks, and purples, and one had flowers on it.

"They fit just like your tightie-whities, without the added pouch, of course. The Y-front is just for design. They don't really open."

"Then why are they made to look like they'll open?"

Frances shrugged. "I don't know. It makes them cuter, I guess."

"Cuter?" Jordan found that idea perplexing. "Why would that be cuter?"

Frances looked to Robbie and shrugged. "I don't know, Jordie. I guess it's just cute to think of a woman wearing little boys' underwear."

"Really?" He just couldn't fathom why that would be.

"Well, putting that aside," Frances giggled, "at least you'll have some underwear."

He nodded and shrugged. "Ok. Thanks."

He started to leave, but Franny stopped him. "Jordie? You know that we are here to help you, right? If you need something... don't go without. Just tell us and we'll do whatever we can. Ok?"

He nodded. "Ok. I guess I just didn't want to be a bother."

"You're not a bother, Jordie. You're family."

Jordie nodded and then, slowly, smiled. "Thanks." He left to try on the clothes.

"What was that all about?" Robbie asked.

Frances smiled. "I was just talking to mom..."

A few minutes later, Jordan returned wearing the green leggings with the lace insets on the side of each leg. He was carrying his ripped trousers in front of him.

"Well, those look good," Robbie said, encouragingly. "How do they feel?" She moves behind him

"Not bad," Jordan ran a hand up and down the thigh of his right leg. "Kind of clingy, but I guess that's how they're supposed to feel, right?"

"That's right," Franny nodded, inspecting the leggings. "I assume the boy shorts fit ok, too. You are wearing them, aren't you?"

He nodded. "They sit a little low, but they fit fine, too."

"Good. Lift up your shirt and let me see where the waistband sits."

He put his old trousers down on Robbie's bed and lifted his shirt. Robbie, who was behind her cousins, said, "They fit perfectly. In fact, your butt looks better in those than mine did. So, at least we've got one pair of pants to get you through today."

"Ahem," Franny cleared her throat and laughed a little. "Houston; we have a problem up front."

"What's the prob..." Robbie started to say, but stopped when she moved to his front. "Oh, my," she laughed.

"What?" Jordan looked down, confused.

"Oh, nothing to worry about," Robbie laughed. "It just kind of looks like you're smuggling a bunch or grapes in your leggings."

"What?" Jordan was still flummoxed.

"Oh, stop," Franny gave her sister a soft slap on the arm. "It's nothing, Jordie. It's just that we can see that you're a healthy young man. That's all."

"Very healthy, apparently," Robbie joked.

Franny rolled her eyes at her sister. "Do you remember that tunic you used to wear in middle school all the time. You know the one I mean. I used to call you a hippy when you wore it?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Because it's long enough to cover up his... junk. Go get it."

"Oh. Good idea," she agreed and pulled it out of her closet. "I love this top. It's too pretty to get rid of."

"Perfect," Franny smiled. "Take off that ratty tee shirt, Jordie, and put this on."

He pulled off his hole ridden tee shirt and dropped it on the bed with his ripped trousers. Franny held the shirt open and helped him slide it over his arms and head. She pulled it down and it sat nicely on his shoulders, reaching to a couple of inches down his thighs.

"See?" Franny said to Robbie. "Just like I said. Perfect."

"Perfect?" Jordan said, looking at the garment. "The stupid sleeves are too short and floppy, the bottom is too long and the whole thing is covered in flowers and lace!"

The tunic was a classic peasant style. Very soft cotton with a V-necked opening, half-sleeves that formed a wide bell to the delicately pleated shoulder seam. The luxuriously wide sleeve openings were edged with a wide band of flower-shaped lace. There was an elastic waist that gave the wearer, who was meant to be a young, developing girl, the illusion of mature, feminine hips. The most distinguishing feature of the garment was the embroidery that ran in a wide band around the bottom hem and neck opening. It was a repeated pattern of red and yellow flowers with green leaves and a pretty little daisy chain connecting each floral pattern from one to the next.

It was adorable and it fit Jordan just perfectly and both of those things confused and bothered him.

"The sleeves are not 'stupid,'" Robbie said with a touch of hurt in her voice, "and they're not 'too short.' They are exactly the right length and the lace accentuates the bell sleeve. And, yes, it is covered in flowers, but so what? I've seen plenty of pictures, from the old days, of male rock stars wearing shirts like this and they wore them to look cool."

Jordan turned to look in a mirror that stood on a frame in the corner. The long, straight hair was weird enough, but the clothes just enhanced the impression that he was trying to look like a woman.

"Look, Jordie," Franny stood beside him and put an arm around his shoulders, it was a gesture that very few people ever did towards Jordan and, under normal circumstances, he would have shaken off the other person's touch - unless it was Aunt Mary, of course - but, for some reason, he accepted it. It felt comforting and she was, after all, family. "I know this isn't a perfect solution, but at least you're in clean, comfortable clothes, right?"

"I guess," he pouted a bit, "but don't you have any jeans or anything?"

Franny glanced at her sister who shook her head in the negative. "None that would fit you, I'm afraid. The truth is, we really only ever wore pants of any kind when we were required to. Our mom - our biological mom, I mean - she grew up in a religious sect that required women to only wear dresses and, even though she'd left that religion before we were born, she was never comfortable in pants and she brought us up to always were dresses. We don't even have many skirts. Robbie and I just grew up wearing dresses all the time. I guess we kind of did it to honor her memory and mom - you know, our mom, now - always indulged us with that. Sorry."

He fingered the soft material of the blouse. It was very comfortable and softer than anything he usually wore. "Ok. I guess it'll be ok, but..." he lifted the material to his face and sniffed it, "... it even smells like flowers."

Franny smelled his shoulder and smiled at Robbie. "It does."

Robbie stepped over to them and took a whiff, then giggled. "Oh, my God. That's 'Truly Yours' body spray. I used to slather myself in that in middle school. Everything I touched smelled like that. It's pretty, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I guess," Jordan shrugged.

"Well, it certainly smells a lot better than that dirty old tee shirt you've been wearing." She joined Jordan in looking into the mirror. "Look at you. Clean, straight hair, clean clothes... it feels good to be clean, doesn't it?" She put her arm around him, too, and planted a loud, sloppy kiss on the side of his head. "You look nice, Jordie. Enjoy it."

"Yeah, ok," he smiled, enjoying, more than he would have expected, the feel of both of his cousins standing so close and touching him. They'd always been very nice to him, but... well... this was different. They weren't just being nice to him, they were... maybe, including him was the right way to put it. He liked that. A lot.

"Later, we'll see what we can find for tomorrow," Franny said, "but how about a we watch a little TV or something?"

"Umm," Jordan looked at their pretty faces in the mirror, "I'd like that, I really would, but... would you mind if I got back to working on that sewing machine? I really want to rebuild that and see if I can get it working."

"That's fine, Jordie," Franny smiled.
 

 

"He let you put your arms around him!?" Mary was in a very pleased state of shock. Jordan DID NOT like to be touched by anyone, but he always made an exception for his aunt. She and her daughters were busy preparing a roast chicken dinner for supper that evening.

"Yep!" Robbie smiled. "I even kissed him, right here, on the side of his head."

"Girls," Mary shook her head in disbelief, "that's huge. Keep engaging him, please. That boy needs social interaction in the worst way."

"You should have mentioned it earlier, mom," Franny said as she lined the roasting pan with aluminum foil. "We were kind of giving him his own space."

"I know, honey, and he needs that, too. I'm so glad we found this sewing machine project for him. That should keep him busy for a few days, at least."

"I hate to disappoint you, mom," Robbie chuckled, "but we heard the sewing machine running before we came down to help you. I think he's already fixed it."

"Oh, great," Mary shook her head, "now I'll have to break the microwave so that he can fix THAT for me."

Just then, they heard the sound of someone coming down the stairs, so they all turned, expecting to see Jordan enter wearing his new clothing, which is exactly what they saw, but he was also wearing a bib apron that was made from rather old fashioned looking, brightly flowered material and had ruffles around all the edges.

"Hi," he said as he stood in the doorway, one hand behind his back and wondering at their stunned silence.

"That's a..." Robbie stopped to giggle a little, "...a lovely apron you're wearing, Jordie."

He looked down and was actually a bit surprised he was still wearing it. "Oh... yeah... the clothes you gave me don't have pockets... so... this does and it made it easier to work." He reached into a large pocket that ran across the front of the midsection of the apron and pulled out two pairs of pliers, one a standard pair, the other a needle nosed pair. "See?"

"Oh," Mary smiled as she crossed the room to him and straightening the shoulder straps. "Well, it suits you, Jordie. It was your great grandmothers. I'm glad that you're using it."

"Oh, ok, good, I guess, thanks, but..." he was obviously excited about something, "... so I got the sewing machine working and I made you something. Here." He pulled his arm around from behind his back and presented his aunt with folded parcel of plaid material.

"What's this?" she asked with a smile.

"Well, I noticed that you didn't have a curtain in the window over the sink," he indicated where he meant and Mary and the girls all glanced over there to see that there was an old fashioned, wrought iron curtain rod mounted, but naked, in that spot, "and this is the same material that the other curtains are maid of, so I made you a short curtain to go up there. I guess it's called a valance. It'll just cover the top half of the top window sash."

Mary unfolded the material to reveal a nicely cut and neatly hemmed piece of material with the obvious pocket sewn into the top to accept the curtain rod. It looked store bought, it was so well made.

"Jordie...? How could you have made this?" Mary was astounded.

"Easy! It's just like following blue prints."

"But... you never used a sewing machine before. How did you know how to use it?"

"Youtube! I watched a few videos to learn how to run the thread and stuff, then I tried it on some material - it was easy. I mean, I only know how to do a couple of types of stitches, but the videos said that was enough to get started. So I looked in the file drawers up there and found a bunch of patterns, all neatly filed. This looked like the easiest one to start with, but I already have another project started. It should be done in a few hours. Here, let me put that up."

He took the valance and climbed up to kneel next to the sink, revealing the smartly tied, puffy bow in the back of his apron, pulled down the curtain rod, slid it into the curtain pocket and put it back up. It was a perfect fit, more than filling the space and allowing for the curtain to bunch up in spots and create gentle waves.

"Jordie... that's just perfect," Mary gushed. "I can't believe you made that without anyone teaching you how. I'm so impressed!"

"Thanks, Aunt Mary. I'm working on something else, too, so I'm going back upstairs. I should be done in three or four hours."

"Ok, but you'll need to take time out for dinner. It'll be ready in an hour and fifteen minutes."

He was already hurrying out the doorway and towards the stairs. "I'll go without dinner tonight, thanks, auntie."

"You'll do no such thing!" Mary called after him. "Set the timer on your phone, Jordie! One hour and fifteen minutes from now, I want you back down here and I want a nice, relaxed dinner for the four of us." She raised her voice to be sure that he could still hear her as he put distance between them. "If you can't finish whatever you're making tonight, it can wait until tomorrow. Do you hear me, Jordie!"

"Yes ma'm," he called back from a distance. "One hour and fifteen minutes."

When she turned back into the kitchen, Robbie and Franny were both admiring the valance.

"See," Mary smiled as she joined them, "I told you he's brilliant, but you have to set parameters for him." She reaches up and touched the valance. "I'm very concerned, though."

"About what, mom?" Robbie asked.

"Well," Mary heaved a heavy sigh for effect, "there's only about half a warehouse of material up there. Of he gets too focused, he'll blow through that in a week and we'll have more new curtains than we'll know what to do with - then what will we do?"

The girls laughed.
 

 

He'd come down for dinner, just as he'd been instructed. He'd patiently sat through diner and dessert and answered questions when asked, occasionally offering long winded explanations about the inner workings of the sewing machine he'd repaired, to which the women reacted with nods and smiles and words of encouragement.

The moment that dessert was done and the dishes were stacked in the washer, he disappeared again into the sewing room.

A little after eight that evening, Mary remarked to the girls as they watched TV, "I'd better give your cousin a one hour warning. He's not going to be pleased with me, but, like I said, he needs parameters or he'll be puttering away on whatever he's doing all night."

She was about to get up when she heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs. "Huh. Here he comes."

When Jordan entered the room, he, once again, had one hand behind his back. He was still wearing the green tights, peasant blouse and apron.

"Another surprise?" Mary asked smiling.

Jordan was also smiling and looking very proud of himself. "Yes, but this time it's for Robbie."

"For me!?" Robbie sat up straighter.

Jordan pulled his arm around to reveal a plain, baby blue, gingham dress.

"Oh, my God!" Robbie jumped up and hugged Jordan. "That's so nice, Jordie! Why would you make me a dress."

"Look," Jordan smiled, unfolding a paper envelope from his apron pocket. The envelope was a commercial product with the word 'Simplicity' written across the top and, in an older style of artwork, a picture of young women in three various versions of essentially the same dress. One of those women bore a striking resemblance to Robbie. "See. She looks just like you, so I made the dress she's wearing for you."

"Oh, how sweet!" Franny said from the couch. "Robbie, go try it on."

Robbie kissed his cheek and took the dress and headed for the downstairs lav, but stopped. "Umm, Jordie... I think this is too small for me, honey."

"No..." Jordan muttered, crestfallen. "It has to be big enough. When we were in your room, I saw some of your dresses and they said that you wore a size four. This is a size five. If anything, it should be a little big. I figured I could take it in for you if I needed to."

"Size five?" Robbie looked confused. "There is no size five. Women's sizes are in even numbers, Jordie."

"But there is a size five in junior sizes," Mary said, looking at the envelope. "Jordie, I'm sorry, but you made Robbie a dress that is sized for girl. Not a woman."

"Oh..." Jordan was heartbroken. He'd really tried to do something nice.

"Oh, don't feel bad, Jordie," Robbie held the dress up to look at it. It was a baby blue dress with a high waist, a scoop neck and puffy sleeves. There was a gold zipper running up the back. It was remarkably well put together for a home made dress, let alone a dress that had been made by someone who'd never even touched a sewing machine a few hours earlier. "This is just lovely, Jordie, and I'm touched that you'd make it for me, but, I'm sorry, I haven't been able to fit into a juniors' size five since I was in seventh grade."

"What a shame." Mary patted her nephew's back. "You did a beautiful job, Jordie. We'll have to find someone who'll fit into it when all of this is over."

"Umm," Franny stood and looked at the dress, "Robbie, what grade were you in when you wore that blouse?"

"I don't know... seventh or eighth."

"And what grade were in when you had to buy those tights for gym?"

"Oh, that was definitely seventh. That was for Ms Graves' class. She was a strange lady... oh..." the lightbulb went on over her head. "I get it."

"Get what?" Mary asked.

"Well," Franny said as sweetly as she could, "I think that Jordie may have solved tomorrow's clothing issue."

"Oh... no..." Mary laughed. "That wouldn't be right, would it?"

"Why not?" Franny giggled. "Jordie, remember when I said how cute it is when a woman wears boy-style underwear?"

"Yeah," he said, a bit confused and very apprehensive.

"Well, that's a two way street, Jordie. A boy in girls clothes is cute, too. You saw yourself in that blouse, right? You look adorable. So... for tomorrow... let's see if that dress fits you."

"If the dress fits?" Jordan looked around. "Are you serious?"

Mary looked at the dress and considered the lack of options available to them. "Well, it's not a horrible idea, Jordie, but only if you are willing to wear it. We don't have any pants or anything like that for you to wear. We do have some of the girls' old clothes that we could dig out of storage tomorrow, so if you'll agree to it... it would really help out."

When he hesitated, Mary added, "But only if you're ok with it."

"Come on, Jordie," Robbie encouraged. "No one will see. It's just the four of us, here and it's just clothes, right?"

Jordan looked at the dress he'd spent six hours cutting and sewing for his cousin and took a deep breath. "I guess, with my hair like this, I kind of already look like a girl, so... you won't laugh, will you?"

"No, baby," Mary ran a finger down his soft cheek. "We won't laugh. It'll just be until we can get some money together to get you new pants, ok?"

He sighed. "Ok. I guess I'll try it, BUT I'd if anyone laughs, I'm not doing it."

"Ok, baby," Mary smiled. "Just take off your shirt and we can try it on right here."

He took off the flowered apron, then pulled the soft blouse over his head. Mary pulled the zipper down and helped to lower the dress over his head. He guided his arms into the sleeves and took a deep breath as the dress slid onto him.

"Turn around, baby," Mary said maternally. "I'll zip you up."

It was a very strange sensation for Jordan. The zipper pulled the waist line tightly to his body. It wasn't uncomfortable, but the waist was very high, just below his chest, and the zipper made him feel trapped in the girlish garment.

"It fits nicely," Mary said. "You did a very good job, Jordie. How does it feel?"

"Kind of weird," he said. "I don't really know what to do with my hands, the skirt is like, everywhere. Also... there's some itchy parts."

"Itchy parts?" Mary asked.

"I know what he means, mom," Robbie offered. "When great grandma or grandma made me dresses when I was a girl, the seams were always a little raised and they itched if I wore the dress without a slip."

"Oh, ok," Mary remembered having the same problem when she was young. "Well, that's easily solved. I bet we have a few slips in the walk in closet off the back hallway where we've stored all of your old dresses."

"A slip?" Jordan asked.

"Just think of it as an undershirt," Franny explained.

He nodded.

"Alright, then," Mary forced a smile for Jordan's sake, "I think we've found a temporary solution to the clothing problem. Are you sure you're ok with this, Jordie?"

"Sure, I guess," he shrugged. "Like Robbie said, they're just clothes, right?"

"Right, Jordie," Robbie smiled and gave him another kiss on the cheek. "Thank you again for thinking of me. I'm glad that such a pretty dress will get some use."

"Alright," Mary turned him around and pulled down the zipper, "let's get ready for bed, ladies. Jordie, put on your pajamas and find one of us. We'll get your hair ready. You can either wear in in a ponytail or a bun while you sleep, but I want to be sure that it's not a tangled mess again in the morning."

"Couldn't we just take care of my hair right now?" Jordan asked.

"I'd rather that you were in your pjs so that you don't need to pull your pajama top over your head after we put your hair up."

"Well, see, auntie," Jordan sputtered, "I threw away my pajamas about a week ago. They fell apart when I put them through the wash the last time. Since then... I've been kind of sleeping in the nude."

"You've been sleeping naked on my good sheets!?" Mary was a little miffed, but got control of herself. "Alright, Jordie, go upstairs and brush your teeth and I'll figure out something for you to wear to bed."
 

 

"Wake up, Jordie," Franny cooed as she entered her cousin's room and raised the blinds. "Mom says to get you up, help you get dressed, strip your bed and put the sheets you've been sleeping naked on into the washer, have some breakfast and take you out to the salon to give you another shampooing with the medicated shampoo, straighten your hair and put on some more Neosporin on your sores so that everything heals correctly. Your bun stayed in nicely, last night. That's a good thing."

Still groggy and confused by Franny's intrusion into his room, Jordan blinked his eyes to try to see more clearly against the bright morning light. At the mention of the bun Fanny had put in his hair last night, he put a hand up to the back of his head and felt the ball of hair back there. He'd asked her to put the bun on top of his head like other guys he'd seen, but Aunt Mary said to put it in back so the scalp on the top of his head could breathe. As he pulled his hand back from the bun, he noticed the ruffled cuffs on the sleeves of the long sleeved nightie they'd found for him to sleep in last night. It was white, with narrow, baby blue stripes and small yellow flowers that reminded Jordan of dandelions decorating the entire gown. The bodice was smocked and should have enhanced the shape of a small, developing bust, but just laid shapelessly against his flat chest.

"Aren't you getting up?" Franny asked, lifting the hanger holding the dress he made yesterday. "You did a great job on this, Jordie. I'm glad that you'll have something to wear today. After an hour or so, you'll forget that your even wearing it. It's just a piece of clothing."

Jordan shook his head, both at the ludicrous situation he found himself in and at the amount of talking Franny was doing. "I need to go pee before I get dressed," he said.

"Ok. You have a bathroom right here. Go ahead. I'll wait."

Jordie stood and the nightie that fell to halfway between his knees and ankles, freed itself from the wound position it had held around his body.

Franny smiled at him.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing. It's just that, with your hair in a bun and that granny night gown... well, you're awfully cute, Jordie."

"Wonderful," he muttered as he headed towards the lavatory.

"Oh, Jordie," Franny stopped him. "Don't forget some clean panties." She pulled the next pair out of the pack that she'd given him the precious day. They were a soft blue, just a few shades lighter than the dress he'd be wearing. It was a coincidence, but a happy coincidence, none the less.

When he emerged from the lavatory wearing just the panties, Franny held up a silky looking dress of some sort.

"What's that?" he asked.

"That's your slip. It'll keep the seams from irritating you. It's very soft. Hold up your arms."

Jordan followed her instructions and she lowered the slip over his head. It was cool and soft against his body. In the front were two empty pouches.

"Is this a bra?" he asked.

"Well, it's meant to have a bra under it, but I don't think you need a bra. To tell you the truth, though, when I wore that slip, and when Robbie wore it after I did, we only wore training bras, so it wasn't very full then, either." She laughed at her memory of the days when she was Jordie's size. "Let's get the dress on you."

Again, he raised his hands and, once again, Franny lowered the garment onto him. Then she turned him and zipped up the back, giving him the feeling of being helpless and trapped, again. "Doesn't that feel better with the slip?"

Jordan nodded.

Franny adjusted the skirt at his hips and commented, "You did a remarkable job on this dress, Jordie. I'm very impressed. If you're looking for another project, I'd love for you to make me a dress."

"Really?" He asked, happy at the prospect of a project. "But I messed up the dress I was making for Robbie."

"You didn't mess it up, Jordie," Franny laughed, "you just didn't understand about women's sizing, which is normal. Most women don't understand women's sizes. You can take my measurements and I'll help you to figure it out. Robbie would love a new dress, too, so would mom, I'm sure. We could keep you busy for weeks if you like sewing."

"I do," he smiled as he moved to the mirror. "I like building anything and sewing is kind of the same." He examined the dress in the mirror. "I guess it does look good, huh?"

"It's lovely, Jordie. You should be proud of yourself. I'm very proud of you."

"Really!? Proud of me?"

"Very proud, Jordie. Now, do you want me to brush out your bun before breakfast?"

He looked at himself more closely, taking in the way his hair made his face look. "No, I think I'll keep it like this. I like it. It's very neat this way."

"Ok," his cousin chuckled, neatness had never been part of Jordie's look. His room and any workspace he used was always immaculate, but his personal appearance was always a little disheveled. Maybe this was a chance to help him with that. "You know, I could help you neaten up your look a lot, if you want."

"Really? How?"

She stood beside him and rubbed his back, feeling the zipper in the dress and the silky feeling of the dress sliding on the slip below "I'll give you some options when we get out into the salon. Let's go have breakfast, now."
 
 
To Be Continued...