explorations into sewing lead him to self discoveries.
Author's Note: Strange what happens when people are restricted and limited indoors! A little review is a small payment to help more of these stories come forth. Again, I would seriously like to know how I am doing. ~Clara.
This version of Quarantine: 2 - Expanding Horizons 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.
Chapter 2
The sheets were in the washing machine, the breakfast dishes were in the dishwasher and Franny was leading Jordan out to the salon on an overcast spring morning in rural Massachusetts.
"Seriously," she was chuckling as they walked into the salon and turned on the lights, "you don't know who Billie Eilish is!?"
"No," Jordan shrugged. "Should I know her?"
"Well, I don't know... don't you like music?"
"Sure. I like music just fine. I just don't always know who I'm listening to."
"Ok, that's fair, I guess. So, is there anyone that you like to listen to?"
He shrugged again. "I like The Beatles, I guess."
Now, Franny laughed out loud. "The Beatles? Well, of course you like The Beatles. Everyone likes The Beatles, Jordie, but they're old. Isn't there anyone new that you like to listen to?"
"I don't know. I guess I like Adele," he said, not even sure what songs she sang, but at least knowing the name.
"Ok, see, that's a great choice. What album?"
"I don't know, Franny. Like I said, I just like to listen to music."
"Ok," she indicated the chair at the shampooing station, "sit down and I'll hook my phone up to the speaker. We'll listen to some Adele while we take care of your hair. Undo your bun while I take care of the music. Oh, and Jordie..."
"Yeah?" he asked as he reached behind his head.
"Keep your knees together, honey. You need to be aware of that all the time, ok?"
"Oh," he realized how he was sitting, "yeah. Of course. Sorry."
She plugged her phone into the speaker and smiled at him. "Don't apologize, Jordie. You'll get used to it. It's just that dresses are new to you."
Piano music started playing through the salon, then Adele's sultry alto joined the piano to sing some of Bob Dylan's most beautiful lyrics.
'When the rain is blowing in your face
And the whole world is on your case
I could offer you a warm embrace
To make you feel my love.'
Frances started the water in the sink at the shampooing station and checked the temperature. "Lay back, Jordie. Let me take care of your hair. I'll be careful. I won't hurt you."
Until yesterday, no one, other than his mother, when he was very young, had ever washed his hair for him and it seemed like a huge luxury. A luxury he really liked. He closed his eyes and enjoyed it.
Franny smiled down at him, happy that he was enjoying it. She joined in the song, singing quietly with Adele,
'I know you haven't made your mind up yet
But I would never do you wrong.
I've known it from the moment that we met
No doubt in my mind where you belong.'
"You have a nice voice, Franny," Jordan said, his eyes still closed.
"Yeah? You think so?" She began rinsing his hair. "I was in chorus in high school. I had a few solos. There were always girls who sang better than me, though." She thought about high school and how much she enjoyed singing with her friends back then. Would there even be choruses in high schools after the pandemic was over? "Do you sing?"
"No," he chuckled at the absurdity of the question.
"Why not?" she asked.
"I don't know. I just don't."
"Well, we need to fix that," she said. "I'll teach you some songs. Now, sit up."
She wrapped his head in a turban and helped him stand and walk to the styling chair. Once seated, she used the towel to dry his hair a bit and then she inspected his scalp. "Wow, Jordie. Everything is healing really well. That's really good. Mom will be happy."
She ran a wide toothed comb through his hair and said, "You know, a lot of guys have their brows cleaned up, nowadays. I could do that for you. Get rid of the stray hairs over your nose, clean up the ones outside of the brow line, things like that. How does that sound?"
"I don't know," he said, looking at his lap. "Whatever you think is best, I guess."
"Oh, come on, Jordie. Don't lose momentum on me. This morning you were talking about neatening up your look. I want to help you do that. Now, look in the mirror and tell me if you want me to do your brows for you."
He glanced up at the mirror, but looked away immediately. "Whatever you want to do is fine, Franny."
She looked at him and she worried. "Jordie... look at your reflection for me. I want to show you what I'd like to do."
He raised his eyes and looked at the mirror, but his eyes darted away again. Then back. Then away. Over and over.
"Jordie... can you... I mean... is there a reason you don't want to look at yourself?"
He shrugged and she asked him again.
Finally, he sighed. "I... I don't like to look at my reflection, that's all."
She watched him struggling to keep glancing from his reflection to the side wall, to his reflection, to her face, to his reflection, to his feet...
"You looked at your reflection this morning," she prodded gently.
"No I didn't. I looked at the dress and how it looked on me and I looked at how neat my hair looked, but... I didn't look at... me. I never look at me. Like... all... of me."
She patted his damp head. "Why not, Jordie."
He shrugged. "Cause..." he took a deep breath, "cause, I'm ugly."
Her heart sank. "Don't say that, Jordie. You're not ugly at all. You're very good looking."
"No, I'm not," he said, emotionlessly. "I know that I'm weird looking, Franny. My mom always said that I was always going to look like 'an odd child.' I don't like to look at myself because... well... I look like a weird child."
Frances leaned against the bench area and looked at her cousin. "Jordie..." She thought through her words. "Jordie... you're a very good looking person, really you are. I'm telling you the truth. Please don't ever say that you're not."
He glanced at her, then glanced down. "You're only saying that because you c..."
When he sputtered and stalled, Frances pushed him a bit. "Because why, Jordie? Because I care about you?"
He shrugged, then nodded.
"Jordie, I do care about you, you know. In fact, I love you. So do mom and Robbie. You're my cousin, Jordie - my only cousin - and you're very important to me. Can you look at me?"
He looked at her for a moment, then away.
She sighed. "Jordie... this morning... did you like how you looked in the dress that you made?"
He shrugged.
"Did you?"
"I guess... I mean... I like the way the dress came out and... well... I kind of like that I made something that I could wear. It made me look different, and that's a good thing, right?"
"You mean it made you look neater?"
He nodded.
"And did you like your hair this morning?"
He paused for a moment, then nodded.
"Because it looked neater?"
He nodded again. "And because it made me look different, too. Not... ugly."
"Oh, Jordie..." she muttered heart broken.
By now, Adele was singing 'Rolling In The Deep.'
"Jordie... I need to go grab something that I forgot in the house. Just sit right there. I'll be right back. It might take a couple of minutes, but I'll be back. Just wait here, ok?"
He nodded and she left in a hurry.
She was gone for almost ten minutes and when she returned, Mary was with her and Mary's eyes were rimmed in red. She looked at her nephew and her eyes became watery.
"Are you ok, Auntie? You look like you're going to cry."
Mary forced a sad smile and she reached out and touched the boy's soft cheek. He was so small and so sweet and, now she realized, so broken.
"Jordie..." She tried to maintain that sad smile. "...baby... your mom... she never really said that you were ugly, did she?" Mary knew that her sister could be cold and tactless, but this was a bit beyond her expectations.
He shrugged. "Not just outright, like that, but... you know... like... when we were shopping and couldn't find a suit coat in the men's department that would fit me and she'd have to drag me over to the boys' department and even then nothing fit right... when things like that would happen, she'd say things like, 'Are you ever going to be a man?' or 'Maybe if you'd exercise now and again, you'd grow a little," things like that. I mean... I got the hint. I know I'm ugly."
"Oh, baby, no, no, no." Mary kissed his cheek. "Baby... you are one of the sweetest people I know, Jordie. There is nothing... absolutely NOTHING ugly about you in any way. You are perfect and beautiful, just the way you are."
He smile just a little and gave a chuckle at the absurdity of that, but then he thought about yesterday and what his aunt had done to his hair. "You're just saying that because of what you did yesterday."
Confused, Mary asked, "What do you mean, Jordie? What did I do yesterday?"
"You know... what you did to my hair. That's the first time in my life that I ever looked..."
Mary waited, but Jordan didn't continue. "Pretty? You looked pretty yesterday?"
He nodded.
"How did that make you feel?" she asked as gently as she could.
Slowly, his eyes raised and, just for a moment, they made contact with Mary's. "It made me feel... nice, I guess..."
Mary looked at Frances who nodded and indicated that her mother should continue down this path.
"Jordie... when you make something yourself... when you start with nothing and end up with something that all comes together and looks great... how does that make you feel?"
He shrugged. "Proud, I guess."
"And when you made me that valance... were you proud of that?"
He nodded.
"Are you're proud of the dress you made?"
He shrugged again. "I guess so. I mean... it's ok."
"It's not 'ok,' Jordie, it's lovely. Here, stand up and stand next to me."
He did as instructed and stood by his aunt facing the full length mirror on the door of the rest room.
"Look at yourself, Jordie," she told him. When she saw that he would only glance briefly, she placed a hand on his jaw and gently guided his gaze towards the mirror. "Tell me what you see."
"I see you and me," he said as he looked away again.
Mary gently guided his chin back to the mirror and held it there. "Now, tell me what you see."
"I see a guy in a dress with stringy, wet hair. He's pasty and pale and short and... well... not attractive. He's ugly."
Mary shook her head. "That's not what I see. I see my nephew. A guy I love a lot, Jordie. The smartest guy I ever met. He has a kind and generous heart and, when I look at him, I see a little of my sister, a little of her husband, a little of me, even - and now that I look closely, a lot of my mother. It's a beautiful face, Jordie. A face made up of the faces of people I love and it hurts me when you say that it's ugly or unattractive, so let's never say that again. Ok?"
"Ok," he nodded and then looked at his face more closely. "Do you really think I look like you and grandma?"
She kissed his cheek again. "I do, baby. You have a kind, gently face, just like my mother, your grandmother, had."
"And you?" he asked. "You think I look like you?"
She pressed her face next to his. "Yes, baby. You look just like me sometimes. Especially when I was younger."
Now, he was staring at himself.
Mary looked at him, amazed. So sweet and gentle. How could her sister have hurt him this way?
"Tell you, what," she said as she guided him towards the styling chair, "let's see what we can do to make you see how wonderful you look."
Once he was seated, she looked at him in the mirror. "What would you like me to do with your hair, Jordie? It's long enough that I can do pretty much anything you'd like. I could even cut it short and give you a regular man's haircut. What would you like?"
"Well," he pondered, "I don't want it short." He was very sure of that. "I need my hair. Dad's bald. I don't want to be bald."
"Ok." Mary looked at Frances and they both smiled.
"I want it long."
"Ok," Mary rubbed his shoulder. "How would you like it styled?"
He considered this for a long moment or two.
"Think of someone that you think is good looking," Frances offered. "Maybe mom could do something like that for you."
"I think you're pretty," He said to Franny, "and Robbie, too. Could I wear my hair like you guys?"
"Oh..." Mary was surprised by the answer, but at least he was thinking of beauty instead of ugliness. "S...sure, baby... I can do something like that, if you want."
"Yeah," he nodded. "Something like that, I guess. I like the way you made it look when it's long, and I liked wearing a bun to bed last night, too. So, something like theirs would be good."
Still shocked, Mary wanted to be sure. "Are you sure, Jordie? Those are girl's hairdos."
"Yeah, but... even if it's a girl's hair cut, I think I would look better that way."
"Well, ok," Mary laughed. "Let's give it a try, then... then, if you don't like it, we have plenty of time to change it. Franny, hand me a spray bottle so we can wet his hair again."
Franny did that, then asked, "Mom, Jordie looks nice in that dress, doesn't he?"
"You do, honey," Mary said to Jordan. "You did a good job on it. Is it comfortable?"
"I guess," he gave his stock answer.
"Well, I appreciate you helping us cope with our limited finances for now."
Frances pulled a stool close to the styling chair and continued. "He's going to sew me a dress, too. And Robbie. I bet he'd make you one, too."
Mary smiled as she began combing his hair. "That would be lovely, Jordie. So, you really enjoy sewing?"
"It's pretty cool." He smiled as his aunt began to inspect his scalp. "It's just like building something with wood, or metal. You follow the instructions and you end up with something that looks great and serves a purpose."
"That's excellent." Mary loved that he was sharing his enthusiasm so freely. "Your scalp looks better already, Jordie. That's great, too."
Frances said, "Robby is out in the storage rooms right now, going through our old stuff. She'll look through everything and see if there's anything out there you can wear, Jordie. You don't have to make yourself a new dress everyday."
"Ok," he said, "but I could, you know. It only takes a few hours, unless you want to make something really fancy."
"Ok," Frances chuckled, "but just in case you get too busy to make one EVERY day, you'll have extra clothes."
"Alright, Jordie," Mary interrupted, "I'm going to straighten your hair again, then I'm only going to do a little cutting and then I can style it like your cousins. Are you sure that's what you want?"
"Yes, auntie."
"Ok, honey."
Forty five minutes later, Jordan's hair was feathered prettily around his face and fell with some thick, vertical curls near his shoulder. Mary bushed out the curls leaving lots of body behind.
"There," she smiled. "What do you think?" She pulled the cape from him and had him stand, again.
Jordan stood, looked into the full length mirror, again, and the smile on his face faded. "Oh..."
"What's the matter, honey?" Mary asked.
"I don't know..." he said sadly. "...I still look... like... me. I wanted to look more like you and Franny."
Frances cleared her throat and Mary turned to look at her. Frances ran her finger across her own eyebrows and mouthed the word 'eyebrows'
Mary mouthed back, 'oh.' "Um, Jordie, would you like me to trim your eyebrows for you? That will neaten things up for you, too."
"Ok," Jordie nodded.
Mary sat him back down then went to work on his brows, first with a razor, then with a tweezer. It wasn't long before he had neat, not overly narrow arches over each eye.
She directed Jordan's attention back to the mirror. "How's that?"
"Better, auntie. That's does make me look more like you, but..." He looked at Frances closely. "Why don't my eyes look as big as Franny's? And my skin doesn't look the same?"
"Jordie," Frances smiled and touched his arm, "I'm wearing makeup, honey." Jordan examined her face carefully, then let his eyes wander down her body to the hem of her dress, inspecting everything about her.
He turned to his aunt. "Can I try some makeup?"
Mary looked from her nephew to her stepdaughter and back again. "Jordie... this is only temporary, right? Until we can get you some trousers. Your hair could look fine in a ponytail or a bun and your eyebrows will grow back pretty quickly, but... I mean... do you want to really try all of this... girly... stuff?"
"Why?" he asked very concerned. "Does that make me... weird?"
"No, baby." Mary smiled at him. "Lots of boys are curious about girls and girls' clothing. It's just... Are you sure this is what you want, honey?"
Jordan considered this, then turned and looked at the mirror on the lavatory door. He stood straight and inspected himself. He liked his new hair and eyebrows, then there was the dress. He looked at it again. The scooped neck led to his flat chest and the puffy sleeves led to his slender arms. He smoothed the skirt of the dress that ended about two inches past his finger tips.
"Franny... if I wear dresses... will you and Robbie like me?"
Frances shot her step mother a shocked look as she stood and hurried to his side. "Jordie... Robbie and I LOVE you right now! We loved you before, too! If you're wearing jeans and a tee shirt, we'll love you. If you're wearing a dress, we'll love you. If you're wearing a gorilla costume and climbing up The Empire State Building, we'll love you! You don't have to wear a dress so that we'll love you?"
"No," he said, taken a bit aback by his cousin's response, "I mean... if I were to wear a dress... would you STOP loving me, because... well... you guys are the only ones who... love... me." The word 'love' sounded uncomfortable when he said it.
"Oh, honey, that's not true." Mary kissed his cheek. "I love you, your mother and father love you, your friends..."
"I don't have any friends," he interrupted her. "No one even likes me, auntie, so there are no 'friends' who love me and as for mom and dad..."
"Don't even say it, Jordie, because it's not true. Your mom and dad love you very much. They just... they just have a hard time showing it, honey."
Finally, Jordie looked away from the mirror. For the past few minutes, while he appeared to be looking at 'himself,' he had, in fact, been inspecting the minutia of his new look, never taking in the full picture, but, all in all, he definitely preferred the reflection he was seeing now to the one he'd seen all of his life.
He looked at the floor, now. Sparse blonde hair on his legs and ugly sneakers on his feet. Both of those things would have to go, too. He wanted to be someone different. Someone new.
He took a deep breath, then looked at his aunt with eyes that were as sad as his eyes could ever be. "I don't think they really do, auntie. I don't think that mom and dad hate me, or anything, I just don't think they think about me very much other than seeing me as... disappointing, I guess."
Mary wrapped one arm around and his wrapped his head with her other, then pulled him into the tightest hug he'd ever received, which was also, possibly, the hardest hug she'd ever given. For a young man who hated the touch of others, a young man would pull his arm aside as quickly as possible if it was so much as brushed by another person, this was a frightening turn of events and he tensed for a moment, until he inhaled his aunt's aroma and he knew that he was safe and loved in this embrace.
Mary shook with sobs. How could her nephew have felt this way all of his life and she'd never noticed, never asked, never observed... She rocked him back and forth and whispered, "We love you, baby. We love you. You always have us, baby. We love you."
When, at last, she released her grip on the boy, her face was wet with tears and even his eyes were watery.
Frances was standing just to the side of him and she was crying, too.
"Alright, alright." Mary cleared her throat and tried to get a handle on her emotions. "Tell me what you want me to do, Jordie, and I'll... I'll make you beautiful."
Jordan nodded. "Well... I guess that makeup would be a good start. It'll make me prettier, right? Like Franny and Robby?"
"Ok," she nodded as she led him back to the styling chair. "Anything else?"
"Umm... do you think that, maybe, you could show me how to shave my legs and whatever else I need to shave?"
"I can do that for you, honey." She smiled, the turned to Frances, "Franny, grab the pink shaver in the black cabinet and make sure that the battery is charged for me, please."
Frances went to the cabinet and turned the device on. The motor sounded well powered. "Yep. It's good."
Mary looked at her nephew once more. "Anything else?"
He was tentative to say this one. "Umm... can you... I mean... do you know how... to... Umm... pierce someone's ears."
Mary smiled broadly. "Of course, my baby. I know how to do that."
Robbie was spreading several dresses on Jordan's bed when she heard voices downstairs. She'd spent more than an hour going through boxes of old clothing, looking for the least feminine dresses she could find, realizing, of course, that an unfeminine dress was an oxymoron.
She'd found six. All were fairly plain and all were fairly short, but since they were looking for clothes that fit Jordan and those clothes would have to be clothes that she and her sister had worn in sixth, seventh and eight grade, everything in the appropriate size was designed to be youthful looking - meaning - short. The fit and flair styles that both she and Frances wore at that age tended to feature skater-dress-style skirts, which were pretty girly, but it was the best she could do. Jordie could wear them if he didn't find them too offensive, or they could be returned to their boxes without any fuss.
The voices came up the stairs and Robbie peeked out into the hallway to see her sister, followed by her stepmother and she could see that another person, Jordan, of course, was right behind them.
"I found some dresses that I think Jordie will like," she said as the group approached. "I only pulled out the plain ones - nothing too girly."
"That's probably not going to be a big deal," Franny smirked as she passed the bedroom door and stopped. Then, Mary stepped out of the way revealing someone else and it took a good few seconds for Robbie to realize that the 'someone else' was her cousin Jordan.
"Oh, my God, Jordie..." She laughed a little at the way he looked, but not because she found it amusing, but because she found it amazing.
Jordan stopped and looked at her. "Why are you laughing? Do I look funny? Or weird?"
"Jordie," she let out another shocked titter, "you look... amazing! You're hair and makeup... did you shave your legs!?"
"And arms and armpits," Mary confirmed. "He got the works."
"Even pierced ears," Frances smiled and pulled Jordan's hair back revealing two baby blue studs in each of his earlobes. Then she smiled at her sister and announced, "Jordie and I are going to the sewing room. He's going to measure me for a dress. We watched a video on YouTube and now he knows how to measure correctly. There's a dress dummy in there, too, so we'll set that up to my measurements. Come on down with us and help me pick out a pattern." And with that, she and Jordan continued down the hall, leaving Mary standing next to her gobsmacked step daughter.
"He looks nice, doesn't he?" Mary said to break the stunned silence.
"He looks amazing, mom, but... why? How?"
Mary folded her arms under her breasts, shrugged and raised her eyebrows. "I don't know, Robbie. I think that this may have been a long term curiosity for Jordie."
"I don't think so, mom. Yesterday, he was pretty upset about the embroidery on that peasant blouse. He didn't seem too into girl's clothes at that point."
"Well, maybe that was just an act so we wouldn't think any less of him. Either that, or his fascination at making a dress made him very curious. Either way, every change was his choice."
Robbie shook her head. "Mom, he's adorable. He looks like..."
"A little girl, I know. Nothing I did could make him look older. That boyish body and no breasts... eleven or twelve... thirteen at the oldest, I'd say, but you're right, he is adorable. We asked him who he thought was attractive so we could style his hair that way and he said he thought you and Franny were pretty, so he asked me to make him look like you guys."
"Well, you certainly did that." She shook her head. "It's like I have a little sister."
Mary nodded. "Treat him that way, Robbie. Teach him. We found out things about that boy today... well, just take my word for it - that boy has been through a lot more trauma than I could have imagined. Be good to him. Pamper him. He needs some tenderness and beauty in his life and you two are the most qualified to give him that."
A little confused, but willing to take her stepmother's word for it, Robbie agreed to give Jordan even more love and attention than usual.
"Be careful not to push too hard," Mary warned. "We don't want him to go back into his shell."
"Oh," Robbie smiled, "I'm great with kids, especially girls that age. I was a mentor at school, remember. He's going to love being my little pal."
Five hours. That's all it took for Jordan to measure, Frances, set the dress dummy to her dimensions, cut the cloth and sew the dress. It fit the dress dummy beautifully and Frances was anxious to try it on, but Jordan was looking through a draw full of zippers for just the right one.
The girls had stayed in the sewing room the whole time, marveling at his deftness as he handled the material, the scissors, the marking chalk and the sewing machine, all the while wearing his light blue dress and his grandmother's apron. It was as if he'd been sewing his entire life, instead of thirty-some-odd hours.
Frances had chosen a pretty, but a bit dated, floral pattern on a light cotton material that she thought was pretty. Robbie agreed with her, but when asked for an opinion, Jordan had replied that it was fine as long as she liked it. For a final opinion, Mary was asked up to see the fabric and she agreed that it was lovely, but she requested that they call her when the dress was ready to be tried on so she could see it.
Jordan ran the zipper seam up and down in the sewing machine, then slipped the garment back over the top of the dress dummy and inspected it with his ever critical eye before pronouncing it done.
Frances clapped her hands in excitement and appreciation and asked, "Can I try it on, now?"
"Sure," Jordan replied.
"Robbie, text mom and tell her the dress is ready and can you unzip me?"
Robbie unzipped the rear zipper on her sisters dress, then text her mother downstairs that she should come up. Due to the size of the house and the fact that, under normal circumstances, Mary was in the barn very frequently, texting was the normal way to communicate from one part of the enormous house to another.
Frances lowered her dress and stepped out of it without a second thought, causing Robbie to say, "Franny!" And indicate the presence of Jordan.
"What? You don't mind, do you, Jordie? I'm wearing a bra and panties, and besides, you've already touched me everywhere when you took my measurements."
Jordan shrugged noncommittally, a bit baffled by the concern, but when Frances had stepped out of the dress, both girls noticed that the boy's brow was furrowed and he was staring at his cousin's breasts.
"Umm," Robbie touched his shoulder, "Jordie that's not very polite."
Without looking away from Frances' breasts, he replied, "What's not polite?"
"Staring at Franny's breasts, Jordie. A gentleman would look away."
Jordan blinked and looked at Robbie.
"Is this the first time you've ever seen a woman's breasts?" Frances asked.
He shot Frances a look. "Of course not. I've been swimming and been to the beach. Swimsuits show more breast than your bra. I wasn't looking at your breasts. I was looking at the bra."
"Oh," the girls let out relieved giggles.
"Do you want one?" Robbie asked. "I don't know if we have one that would fit you, but I could look."
"Why would I need a bra?" He seemed confused at that question.
The girls exchanged confused glances. "Then why were you staring at mine?" Frances asked.
"I was looking at how it was made. I wonder if the thread is actually elastic. It all seems to mold itself to you so well... That's all... I was wondering how it was made. I was just curious. I'll look it up later."
Just then, Mary appeared at the doorway, an iPad resting in her folded arms, and took in the sight of her oldest stepdaughter in her skivvies. "Well, aren't we all getting relaxed with each other?" She teased.
"Oh, yeah," Frances smiled. "I'm just about to try on the dress. Look at it. Isn't it pretty?"
Mary entered and looked at the dress displayed on the dummy. "It's lovely, yes. Let's see if it fits."
She unzipped the dress and held it low so that Frances could step into it. When she'd gotten it onto the girl's shoulders, Mary gently drew the zipper up and, just as it had on the dress dummy, it hung beautifully on Frances' youthfully fit form.
"Oh, it's beautiful, Jordie," Robbie said as she joined Mary in examining the dress.
"Thanks." Jordan smiled, happy to get the compliment.
"How does it feel?" Robbie asked Frances.
"Nice!" She giggled. "It's like it was made for me. Do you like it, mom?"
"I do," Mary smiled and touched the loose fitting, capped sleeve, "but..."
She let it hang there.
"But what?" Jordan asked, moving close to look for a problem.
"Oh... nothing..."she said, dismissively. "It's just that..." again she let it hang there.
"What!?" Jordan was now moving around, looking for any problem. "What's wrong with it?"
Mary winked at her daughters, knowing that Jordan had taken the bait. "Oh, nothing, Jordie, it's just that... well... wouldn't this dress look beautiful with a little bit of a lace collar? Nothing too elaborate, just something soft and feminine, like this." She touched the screen of her iPad and showed a photo of woman in a flowered dress, fairly similar to the one that Jordan had just constructed, but with a delicate, lace collar. "Look," Mary pointed to a narrow spool of material on the shelf that had as eight inch band of lace wrapped on it, "that's almost the same lace as the lace on this dress. Could you put a collar like that on this dress?"
Jordan looked from the iPad to Frances to the spool of lace and back again and tried to process what had been suggested. "But... this dress doesn't have a collar and, besides, that lace is a lot wider than the lace on the dress in the picture..."
"I know," Mary said patiently. "That's my point, Jordie. I think that a pretty, lace collar would dress this up beautifully. We have lace that can be cut down and we have the dress and you know how to sew. Can you add some lace to this dress?"
"Yes, please," Frances encouraged. "Mom's right. The lace would make this dress just perfect, Jordie."
He looked at the picture again. "But... it's not in the pattern. I don't know how..."
"Oh, I think you can figure it out, Jordie. It's just a little lace on top of the dress material. Here, take my iPad and think about it. I bet that you'll figure it out."
Jordan stared at the iPad for a solid minute and no one spoke. Robbie was about to say some words of encouragement, but Mary held up her hand and stopped her.
Suddenly, Jordan reached for a plastic ruler, then he took the ruler and iPad to the other side of the cutting table and he sat on stool. He used two fingers to enlarge the dress as much as he could, then he used the ruler to make some measurements, which he wrote down on a piece of paper, mumbling the whole time.
Then, he stood abruptly and pulled his tape measure from his apron pocket and took some measurements on Frances. He turned and grabbed the square piece of waxy marking chalk and made a few marks on the dress, near the neck opening. Still, he mumbled and mumbled. What he was saying, the women weren't sure, but whatever it was, it involved numbers.
He returned to the cutting table and wrote a few more numbers down, then grabbed the iPad, opened Safari, and typed something in. Moments later, a Youtube video was telling him what kind of stitch he should use on decorative lace.
When the video was done, Jordan turned, grabbed the spool of lace and cut a two foot length off. He began to trim it and create the shape he wanted from the material in his hand, then mumbled some more and looked up at the women. "Ok. I can do it. I just need the dress."
"Oh... ok," Frances said as she allowed her stepmother to pull down the zipper. She stepped out of the dress and handed it to Jordan.
He laid the dress on the cutting table, turned the collar inside out and began pinning the lace into place, drawing pins from the puffy, silk pin cushion attached to the bracelet on his left wrist. He worked quickly. And methodically, making adjustments when needed and mumbling quiet little curses when something vexed him for a moment, but always figuring out a solution to each problem.
"Ok," he nodded as he moved the dress to his machine, "I'm going to need an iron after I sew the lace on. Could someone get me an iron and some spray starch?"
Robbie hustled off to do that as the sound of the sewing machine filled the room, again. Mary stood next to Frances, still in her bra and panties, and watched Jordan, who worked at a frenetic pace.
By the time Robbie had returned, Jordan was pulling the dress free of the machine. He cut some stray threads, then hurried to Robbie, thanked her as he took the iron from her and plugged it in, checking the settings, then returned to the dress. He pulled out the pins that had kept the lace in place on the underside of the neck opening, and he pinned the front of the lace so that it stayed in place the way he wanted it. When he was satisfied with the look, he returned to the iron and went to work creating a crisp, delicate crease in the lace, so that it would lay flat on the dress. He ironed, sprayed starch, ironed, sprayed starch, over and over until he was happy with his work. He smiled and held the dress out to his scantily clad cousin.
Within seconds, Mary had drawn the zipper up Frances' back and everyone had moved to the full length mirror to look at the additional ornamentation. Of course, it was perfect. It was sewn on with precision, it was exactly the right size and it was positioned perfectly symmetrically around the neck opening.
"I love it," Frances squeaked as she turned and pulled Jordan into a tight hug. "How on earth did you figure this out?"
He shrugged, a bit embarrassed to be enjoying the hug.
"Come on, now, Jordie," Mary said in a maternal tone, "tell them how you figured it out."
"Well," he looked at the floor as he explained, "I looked at the picture and I measured the distance between that girl's neck and shoulders. Then I figured out the proportional size of the lace collar in the picture. The lace took up eighteen percent of the distance between her neck and shoulder. Then I measured the same distance from Franny's neck to her shoulder, figured out what eighteen percent of that was, added enough to fold over the back so I could sew it, then I put it all together. Easy."
"Easy!?" Robbie laughed. "I took trig in high school and I couldn't do that."
"You don't need trig," Jordan corrected. "It's just basic math." He said it very matter-of-factly, as of Robbie's suggestion of using trigonometry was absurd.
"Well, whatever," Mary gave him a hug and a soft kiss on his smooth cheek, "whatever you did, baby, you did a great job."
"Thanks, auntie," he smiled.
"Look," Robbie held up an envelope with a dress pattern contained within and drawings of the versions of that dress that could be created on the front, "Jordie's making me this dress tomorrow."
"That's lovely," Mary smiled. "You'll look adorable in that. Right now, though, let's get this room swept up and get ready for dinner. I really haven't made anything, today, so we'll go with franks and beans and brown bread for dinner, ok?"
The girls loved the idea of this casual meal.
"Can I just do one thing before I come down?" Jordan asked.
Mary checked the time. It was four-fifteen. "Alright, Jordie, but we're eating at five thirty on the dot, ok? So, set your phone for a four-twenty-five alarm and be there on time, ok?"
"Yes, auntie," he nodded. "I should be able to do what I want in that amount of time."
"And Jordie," she said a bit sternly.
"Yes, auntie?"
"The dress is beautiful, honey and you did a great job adding the lace. I'm very proud of you."
Jordan smiled broadly, the white of his teeth accentuated by the pink coloring on his lips. "Thank you, auntie."
As the girls left the room, they each kissed him and also told him what a great job he'd done.
Praise. He'd never gotten a lot of that, before.
He was in heaven.
Mary handed Robbie some plates as Frances fished some silverware out of a drawer.
"So," Frances said, slyly, "what exactly was all that about up in the sewing room?"
Mary smiled. "I just thought that the lace collar would look nice. Don't you like it?"
Frances touched the lace. "I love it, but we all know that you had ulterior motives."
"Ulterior motives," Mary laughed. "You make me sound like a criminal."
"You are acting pretty suspiciously, today," Robbie jokes as she set the plates on the place mats.
"So?" France crosses her arms and waited for an explanation.
Mary touched the lace on Franny's dress. "I knew he could do it... that he could think creatively... without the pattern to guide him. That's what I want him to do - think differently. I want him to figure things out without a pattern or blueprint."
"Ok, yeah," Frances nodded, "I can see that, but he didn't have to be all that creative. Like he said, It was just basic math."
"Uh huh, and is that how you would have done it?"
"Well... no... but I probably would have figured something out eventually. Maybe through trial and error."
"Yes, but I didn't see any errors, did you?"
"No..."
"Right. Because Jordie doesn't have a 'trial and error' personality. Yes, he made a mistake on the size of the first dress, but he didn't make a mistake on the garment. It was perfect. Regardless, Robbie, tomorrow, when he starts your dress, ask him to make a change that's not in the pattern."
"Like adding lace?"
"Well, yes, but he's already figured that out. If you want lace, that's fine, but ask for something else, too. Maybe a lower cut cleavage area, or buttons instead of a zipper, or fancier cuffs - something that makes him think outside the box."
"What's your goal in this behavioral experiment?" Frances leaned back against the counter, genuinely curious.
"First - it is not a behavioral experiment. It's parenting. I wish that my sister had done more of that. And, second, as for a goal... Jordie's remarkable, but... limited. I'm hoping that, if he realizes that he can make creative decisions on his own, he may be able to use that knowledge in other aspects of his life. Make him more flexible and self reliant. Is that so bad?"
"No," Frances finally agreed with a loving smile.
"And," Mary smiled, "by next week, I want to just be able to show him a picture of a dress in a magazine and have him make it for me."
"Or mabe he could design a dress for each of us." Robbie giggled.
"We'll probably have to give him two weeks for that." Mary joked as she reached into the refrigerator to get the hot dogs for dinner."
Jordan was on time for dinner, his apron had been left in the sewing room and he'd taken a few moments to remove as much loose thread as possible.
"Did you finish your other project?" Robbie asked.
"Yes," Jordan smiled. "I'm getting pretty fast at this. It's fun."
"Maybe you could make yourself a pair of trousers," Frances said, offering him a way back to boyhood, but Jordan shrugged.
"I don't know. There are no patterns for pants up there and, besides, I like making dresses. They're much... prettier, I guess. I like making them because they're not just utilitarian, they're kind of... little pieces of art, I guess."
"They are." Mary smiled at him. "You have a real knack for dresses, Jordie."
He smiled as he used his fork to cut a piece of frankfurter and combined it with a small helping of beans.
"What was your other project, Jordie?" Robbie asked. "Another dress for tomorrow?"
"No, I'll have to wear one of the dresses you picked out for me tomorrow. I made new pajamas for tonight. That nightgown I wore last night was kind of hot."
"Very nice." Mary smiled. "Tell you what, Jordie. After dinner, why don't you take a shower - wear a shower cap if you don't want to wash your hair wet, again - then you can put on your new pjs and we'll all meet in the upstairs den and we'll play a board game. How does that sound?"
Jordan stopped and thought for a moment. "What game?"
Mary was surprised that he wanted a list of games. "I don't know... maybe Scrabble, or Sorry. Maybe a card game like Uno or Rummy... whatever you'd like."
He thought for another moment. "Either Scrabble or Rummy."
"Ok." Mary smiled, the decisiveness of his answer amusing her a bit. "Girls, what would you like to play?"
"I like Scrabble best," Robbie shrugged.
"Scrabble is fine with me," Franny said, also finding Jordan's businesslike attitude towards a game awfully cute.
With that agreed upon, they returned to their meals.
"Auntie," Jordan asked, a few minutes later, still serious.
"Yes, baby?"
"When you say 'Girls'... am I included in that now?"
"Umm..." Mary looked at her stepdaughters, but the question confounded them, too. No one was sure how Jordan wanted this question to be answered. "I don't know, Jordie? Why?"
"Well... because I'm wearing dresses. Do you think of me as one of the girls?"
"Oh, I see..." Mary took a breath. "Let me ask you, Jordie... do you want me to think of you as one of the girls when you're wearing a dress?"
He looked at the table for a few moments and considered it, then he looked at his aunt and said, "Yes. I think that I do."
"Well. Ok, then. You're one of the girls, now."
He smiled. "Good," he said. Then, quieter, he said, "Good," again.
The old card table was set up in the upstairs den and a bowl of freshly popped popcorn was on the sideboard along with a pitcher a lemonade and some sugar cookies. The Scrabble board was in the center of the old card table and the comfortable chairs from the old kitchen set were in place and ready for the game.
Mary wore her old pajamas, baggie flannel things that were far more comfortable than fashionable, while both Frances and Robbie wore silky, knee length nighties with similarly silky wrap-around robes.
Frances turned some music on to play through the Bluetooth speaker.
"Adele?" Robbie asked, surprised. "I didn't think you were all that into Adele."
Frances shrugged. "I like her just fine, but Jordie seems to like her a lot, so I thought he'd enjoy this. It's a YouTube Music playlist, so it'll play other people, too."
"Cool," Robbie nodded.
"Jordie?" Mary called down the hall. "Jordie, honey, we're ready to start. How are you doing in there?"
There was no answer.
"Hmm," Mary said to the girls, "he's been out of the shower for at least ten minutes. I'm going to go check on him."
"She walked down the hall and knocked on the door to Jordan's room. "Jordie? Honey? Is everything ok?"
Still no answer.
She turned the nob and opened the door slowly. "Jordie?" But the room was empty. That was odd. The door was closed as if he was changing, but... no Jordie. She checked the floor on the other side of the bed to be sure he hadn't fallen or anything, but... no Jordie.
Maybe he was in the sewing room.
As she was headed to the door to she heard something moving in the closet.
"Jordie?" She approached the double doors of the closet and listened. Someone was definitely in there. "Jordie? Can I open the door?"
"No," was the quiet reply.
She waited a moment. "Jordie, honey. What's wrong?"
"I went too far, auntie."
Mary felt a fearful warmth rush over her body. What had he done!? "Jordie? Jordie!? What did you do? You didn't hurt yourself in anyway, did you? Jordie!? Baby? I'm opening the door."
She didn't know what to expect. She'd heard of some boys who were so disgusted by their own bodies that they'd castrated themselves. Things were moving awfully quickly. He couldn't have gone that far this quickly, could he!?
She took a breath and pulled the doors open. The smallish, walk-in space didn't offer a lot of places to hide, but Jordan was trying to stay out of sight. He'd pulled a blanket from a shelf and had thrown it over his head.
"Jordie?" She reached for the blanket and started to raise it, but he held on to it.
"I went too far, auntie."
Oh, God. What had he done? "What do you mean, honey?"
"My pajamas, auntie. I went too far. They're too g... you'll laugh at me. So will Franny and Robbie."
Oh, thank God. "Jordie, I promise, we won't laugh. Let me see." She lifted the blanket and he released his grip on it. She pulled it over his head and he stood there, eyes downcast, shame written on his face.
It took a moment for Mary to realize what the problem was. His face was clean of makeup and his hair was dry, still showing the fullness Mary had created with the curling iron hours earlier. Then, she noticed the 'pajamas.' They were not pajamas at all, though, they were not even 'they.' What he wore was a nightgown. A very simple, feminine, pretty nightgown.
The bodice was a simple rectangle. The boarder of the rectangle was a flowered pattern, so were the one-and-a-half inch straps that ran over his naked shoulders and created a flowered boarder across the top of the back, too. The center of the bodice's rectangle was cut from another fabric. It was a rather large bouquet of flowers that sat on a field of white - very simple, very pretty, very feminine.
From beneath the boarder of the rectangle, the nightgown hung loose and flowing, made of a very sheer, very soft, white cotton. It billowed around his small body and ended a few inches above his knees.
The nightgown was a classic style for little girls on the verge of young-womanhood. The effect of the billowing fabric blossoming out below the short bodice gave girls the impression of developing breasts. He looked smaller than ever. He looked younger than ever. He looked more like a girl and less like a man, or even a woman, than ever before.
He was adorable.
"I look foolish," he mumbled. "You're all going to laugh at me."
"Oh, Jordie, no, no... you look... amazing, baby. You look just perfect. A perfect, pretty little thing, Jordie. No one will laugh at you, baby. Come on out of the closet."
"You promise you won't make fun of me?"
"Jordie, just come out. I think you look great." She held out her hand and waited a moment until the boy took it. Then she led him the few steps out into the bedroom.
Once into the light of the room, Mary looked more closely at the nightie. It was truly precious. The kind of nightie that would melt the heart of any doting mother. The kind of nightie that a mother would shop for for days before sending her eleven or twelve year old daughter to a socially important slumber party.
"Oh, Jordie, I love it!" Mary gushed, a tear of pride, or perhaps relief, in her eye. "It's just... it's so pretty, baby, and you look so beautiful in it."
"Really?" Jordan seemed amazed by his aunt's response.
"Really, baby." She touched his cheek and was about to continue to praise him, when Robbie's voice interrupted them from the doorway.
"Jordie! You look so cute!" She gushed. "You made that!? It's so precious! I love it. Franny! Come see Jordie's nightie!"
Within seconds, Frances was at the door. "Oh, my God, Jordie! You're so adorable!" She burst into the room and wrapped her arms around her cousin and squeezed him. "Honest to God, Jordie, you're like a living paper-doll. Every time I see you, you're wearing another outfit and each one is more adorable than the one before it. Come on. Let's go play Scrabble."
By nine thirty, they'd finished two rounds of Scrabble. Robbie won the first round and Mary won the second. Frances had come in a close second in the first round and Jordan a close second in the second round. Everyone was smiling.
Throughout the game, the women had noticed that Jordan's behavior had changed. He was beginning to conform to the way the clothing and his hair made him feel. First, it was the way he'd flick his hair from his soft, creamy shoulders. Then, it was the way that one leg was folded up underneath him with his nightie billowing around him.
Then it was the giggles and the smiles, so unlike Jordan. He laughed at their jokes and smiled coyly when he scored a triple word score. Oh, sure, he was still intense when he was studying his tiles, a little awkward when he'd make brief eye contact and there was still the furrowed brow when he was vexed, but there was a new relaxation to him. A softening of his defensive shell. An occasional playfulness that had never been there before.
They all saw it and it made them all smile.
This wasn't just the clothes. Jordan was much too complex a person to be so quickly and totally changed by just wearing a girl's clothes.
This was a young person finding himself, or perhaps herself.
The confidence that was building as his creativity grew and his achievements were appreciated, complimented and encouraged. He'd never felt this kind of acceptance before. This kind of support. This kind of... family.
"Come on, Jordie," Robbie chirped as she plopped herself into an easy chair and patted the large, oversized ottoman in front of it. "Sit here and let me braid your hair before you go to bed. You'll love it. I promise."
He sat and allowed himself to be leaned back a bit so that Robbie could reach his hair. She ran a brush through his hair. It felt luxurious and relaxing, but that was nothing compared to the feeling of having her fingers manipulate his hair into firm plaits that hugged tightly to his scalp.
"This is called a 'Swedish Braid Crown,'" she explained, "and it's very comfortable to sleep in. You'll like it. When I was your age... I mean... when I was little... I mean... when I was your size, like in middle school or so, we used to set up a little triangle made up of me, Franny and mom and we'd braid each other's hair before we went to bed, remember mom."
"I do," she smiled. "Those are some of my favorite memories, Robbie."
"Mine too," she smiled back. "We'll have to teach our little cousin here how to braid and we can do it again."
When she was done, Jordan's hair was all braided and wrapped in a neat pattern that formed a delicate crown around his head. It was elaborate with a homespun quality to it that was very comforting to him, for some reason.
By this point, Mary and Franny had put away the game, folded up the old card table and they had settled onto the coach. Franny had turned on the TV and was searching for something to watch. "Oh, look!" She said, excited, "'Enchanted' is on. I love this movie! I remember the first 'girls weekend' we had with you, mom. Daddy dropped us here after school on that Friday. We were both kind of scared, but you had everything planned out. Grandma was still alive and you and grandma had set up this room to look like a girl's fantasy - pink and white, gauzy material was draped all over and we had pizza and talked about everything. Then, at like nine o'clock when we thought you were going to send us to bed, you turned on this movie and we all sat right here and watched it together."
Mary smiled. "I remember that, too. I remember every minute since you two entered my life, girls. Some of the best times of my life, and, of course, some of the worst. I could never have gotten through my mom's death, or your dad's, if it weren't for you two."
Frances reached for her stepmother's hand and squeezed it.
"Have you ever seen this movie, Jordie?" Robbie asked.
"No," he said, watching the animated section that began the film. "What's it about?"
"Well, you'll just have to watch it to see," Mary saida playfully.
"You'll like it, though," Robbie bubbled. "That's Princess Gisele. She sews, just like you!" Robbie scooted to the side of the overstuffed chair and laid her head on the arm. "Here, pull the ottoman to the side and you can lay down on it and rest your head on my tush."
At first, this seemed awkward, but once he had the large ottoman situated and he'd settled in behind his cousin, laying his head on her upper thigh just seemed natural. Robbie reached down and began running her hand along his braids and she smiled at her stepmother and sister. "This is nice. And it's our first 'girls night' with Jordie."
To Be Continued...
Comments
getting praise for the first time
has to be such a thrill.
lovely chapter, huggles!