“Of course it’s wrong. She can’t tell me who I can or can’t see.”
Katlynn smiled. Her shoulders slumped. “Not what I was talking about.”
“What then? Being Annie?”
“No. Being Anthony.”
I paused. Make it or break it moment. “All my mom is arguing is that six is just too early to really have that concept. Like… what does he know about gender?”
“Annie knows what she’s feeling. She knows who she is inside.”
I sighed. Katlynn was so confident. Mom was so not. And where did I stand? I didn’t know.
Katlynn huffed. “I’m not saying that your mom is a bigot… I’m just saying,” Katlynn said. “Maybe she’s a bit too old-fashioned.”
I sighed. Defeat. “There’s not much we can really do about it, Kat.”
“Isn’t there?” She leaned forward. And stared at me. “Can’t we show Annie that it’s okay? That she is loved? And accepted?”
I closed my eyes and sighed. The breeze slapped my face. “There’s not much we can really do about it, Kat,” I repeated.
“And that’s why your mom is a bigot.”
~*~
Wendy
No one likes working on Saturdays. Pete wasn’t convinced, but even I don’t like it. But what else could I do? I was buried in the case. It won’t defend itself. And his opinions ceased to matter the minute he left, leaving me in charge of getting food onto the table for our kids. Putting me in charge of paying the mortgage. Insurance. Medical bills. Dylan’s college funds. Lauren’s college funds. Anthony’s college funds. Groceries. Yes. Pete’s opinion was obsolete at this point.
So, imagine my surprise, walking in to my house, the house I pay for by myself, to find my son twirling around in a bright pink dress, laughing and giggling to his little heart’s content. Off the record, his smile was what every mother begs to see from her child, but there was no admitting that. Not tonight.
“What in the world is going on here?”
The pizza box in Laruen’s hands dropped as I walked in. Dylan’s girlfriend let go of Anthony’s hands, and she stopped, mid-spin, to look at me. Even Dylan’s hands fell to his sides. I could swear that the music in the background skips a beat, silencing the den like a courtroom.
“Ms. Bell, we were just playing.”
“Momma!”
Anthony rushed to embrace me, so I knelt down to his eyelevel, taking him in a full embrace and then pulling him back to examine his costume.
“Anthony. What is this?”
“I’m a Princess, Momma.”
“A princess?”
My eyes dart to Dylan.
“Yeah, Momma! I’m Princess Annie. And Lauren is being the evil dragon who kidnapped Princess Katlynn. So Dylan is being the knight and we have to rescue her! Who do you want to be?”
“And who’s idea was this?”
“Mom.”
“Katlynn said –“
I stood up, and the room stood still.
“Anthony. Take that dress off.”
Everyone blinked: guilty.
“You don’t want to play, Momma?” Anthony’s voice quivered.
“Get into your pajamas, Anthony. It’s bedtime.”
“Mom—“
“Dylan. Zip it. Anthony. Now.”
Anthony nodded. I could see the tears building in his eyes, but he stumbled into the hallway and out of sight. Dylan crossed his arms.
“Don’t give me the sass, Dylan.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
He didn’t need to. Dylan’s eyes screamed with unease.
“I am going to put Anthony to bed, and I expect this room to be spotless when I get back. Got it?”
Dylan nodded. His new girlfriend thought she was sneaky, giving him a look out of the corner of her eye.
In his bedroom, Anthony pulled his pajama shirt over his head as I walked in. Untouched racecars decorated his shelves. A bin of Dylan’s hand-me-down action figures remained in the same posed position I set them in when decorating. It was as if the room was never played in. Mostly because it wasn’t.
“Did you brush your teeth?”
“Yes, Momma.”
“Wash your face?”
“Yes, Momma.”
“Get into bed.”
“Can I say goodnight to everyone?”
I knelt down to be eyelevel with my son. Pete’s eyes stared back at me.
“I need to have a talk with your brother. You’ll see him in the morning.”
“What about Katlynn?”
I hesitated. “It’s bedtime, Anthony.”
He was reluctant, but nodded. If there’s one good thing about working so much, it’s the fact that my word is law with my children. At least, I tell myself that’s a good thing. Sometimes I’m not so sure.
Anthony hopped into his bed, and I kissed his forehead, tucking him into sleep. I flipped the lights off and gave my routine second glance at him before delicately closing his door.
The den was spotless when I got back. Lauren had migrated to her bedroom by then, so only Dylan and his girlfriend waited for me, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, waiting for me to lecture them.
“Sit down.”
“Ms. Bell, let us explain.”
“Please. Do.”
We took our spots; me in the lone chair, and them together on the sofa.
“Mom.”
“We were only playing. Annie—“
“Anthony.”
“Katlynn.”
“No, Dylan. Ms. Bell, Annie—“
“Anthony.”
“Annie wants to play princess.”
“Kat—“
“She likes to be pretty and dainty and flutter her eyelashes. She—“
“Katlynn.”
“No, Dylan. Gender identity is a real thing. And I don’t want to see Annie get in trouble for it! You agree, don’t you?”
“Mom…”
There was a long pause as Katlynn and Dylan struggled to keep their emotions in check, but I made sure to keep my lips as pursed together as possible; my courtroom face.
“Is that what you think is going on then?”
“Without a doubt, Ms. Bell.”
Off the record, I applauded her passion.
“Dylan?”
His eyes raced back and forth, struggling for an answer.
“Ms. Bell. Annie just wants to express herself.”
“And who’s to say that this isn’t something you’ve simply put into her head?”
“Mom.”
“Anthony has never been this way before.”
“Mom.”
“Has he? When was the last time Anthony wore a dress?”
“He hasn’t –“
“When was the last time Anthony called himself a girl?”
“He never –“
“What has changed recently that would encourage this behavior?”
“Nothing –“
“Nothing?”
“Mom.”
“Answer the question, Dylan.”
Dylan looked at Katlynn. His voice quivered, but nothing audible escaped him. I could see the defeat in his face, but I could also see Anthony in him. Both spitting images of their father, Pete.
What would Pete say about all this? Our son has gender issues? No surprise. You’re so consumed in your career, of course he’s going to be messed up. This wouldn’t have happened if I had full custody. He needs a man in his life to get this princess crap out of his head. And maybe Pete would be right… Maybe this was my fault.
And yet, Anthony had looked so happy. His smile was so genuine. He was beaming in that dress. Was I really one to be able to turn him away from this?
But wasn’t it my duty to stop this? As a mother, wasn’t it my duty to protect him? Wouldn’t society tear him apart? If his own mother could hardly understand, how would the world?
No. I couldn’t let this continue.
“Simply put, I just see the c
orrelation between Anthony’s supposed ‘gender issues’ and your involvement with him, Katlynn. Anthony is Anthony. A six-year-old child. What does he know about ‘gender identity’ at six?”
Katlynn glared at me, and I could see the protests in her eyes, hear her arguments through her closed mouth, and taste her bitterness towards me.
Dylan put his hand on hers.
“I think it’s best that you not come around here for a while, Katlynn.”
“What? Mom! You can’t—“
“I can. And I did. Katlynn, I think it best if you go home now.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I stood up. “Good.”
They stood.
“Oh. And Dylan?”
“Yes, Mom.”
“Bedtime is 11:30 tonight.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
~*~
Lauren
Dear Diary,
I never wanted a sister. I like being the only girl. It makes me special, in a way. Daddy likes me best. Dylan doesn’t even deny it.
So, watching Anthony parade around in one of my old princess dresses was so frustrating. Katlynn called him ‘pretty.’ She doesn’t give me compliments. (Okay, maybe she does. But still, those should be reserved just for me. Just sayin’.)
I mean Anthony can get attention sure, but what about me? Where do I fit in to all of this? I don’t want to give up being Daddy’s Little Girl or let him like wear my prom dress or something when I go to senior prom! How is this fair to me?!
Let him have Dylan’s old stuff. Or get him new things. But I don’t want him to be a little mini-me. That’s not what I’m about. What would Aiden say if I had some little boy following me around in my old, hand-me-down clothing? Yuck. I’d be the laughing stock of school!
Ugh. Why does Anthony have to do this to me?
But, maybe having a gay brother is kind of the best of both worlds, right? I mean, Anthony is only a little kid, but I know what being gay is. There’s a sixth grader at school who is out. Jayson Something-Or-Other. He says he knew from a young age that he was ‘special,’ and you don’t choose who you love. Maybe that’s true.
Then there are those two boys in my class that like to draw and don’t do anything in P.E. but cower in the corner. Aiden says they’re gay, and he’s the cutest boy in school. So, he’d probably know. Anyone interested in boys would be a fool to not be crazy about Aiden. I’m sure those boys must have asked him out or something.
A lot of kids pick on those boys. Which is actually kind of sad. I try to be nice to them, but I have a reputation to uphold! And they’re kind of bottom of the totem pole. Though, Bethany from dance class says that gay guys are the best. And she’s a sophomore at the high school. Gay boys are apparently the best shoppers. And super fun to gossip with. And talk about cute boys. Some of them even know how to do fancy hair stuff. And makeup tips!
Maybe I should try to befriend those boys in school…
~*~
Dylan
“I’m not uncomfortable, Dylan.”
“Lie voice.”
“I’m not lying.”
The look. She knew I knew.
“Dylan… I really appreciate the fact that you want me to meet you dad, but your mom—“
“Doesn’t have a say on who I date.”
She smiled. Her sweet smile. Then fixed her dress. Too cute.
I motioned to the door. “After you, m’lady.”
She giggled. Three knocks on the door.
The door opened instantly. Lauren. “Daddy!”
“Not quite.” Resentment resonated in Mom’s voice.
Through the living room into the kitchen.
“Mom. I told Dad that Katlynn would be here. He wants to meet her.”
Katlynn forced a smile. Mom didn’t.
“There’s cheese.”
I smiled. Only Katlynn was a vegetarian here.
Pizza box on the counter. Plates, napkins, and utensils. For some reason,
Mom was still convinced that someone may choose to cut their pizza into little bits instead of eat it like a normal human.
I smiled. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Yeah. Thank you very much, Ms. Bell.”
Mom’s death stare. To Katlynn. Of course.
“When is Daddy getting here?”
“Soon.”
“Where is your brother?”
“Upstairs coloring.”
“Do you want to go get him? The pizza will get cold.”
Lauren grumbled. “Why do I have to do it?”
“Mom asked you, didn’t she?”
“But I want to be here when Daddy gets here!” Lauren pouted. “Mom! Why can’t Dylan get him?”
Katlynn giggled.
Mom’s nose flared. Seemingly Katlynn’s voice alone triggered her rage.
I sighed. “I can do it.” I messed up her hair. “Spoiled Gremlin.”
“Mom!”
“Dylan, be nice to your sister.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
I motioned for Kat to join me. But she didn’t.
Down the hallway, up the stairs. Alone.
“Hey, Anthony. Dinner’s ready.”
His door was half-shut. So, I pressed it open. Anthony was sprawled out in the middle of the floor. Surrounded by a rainbow mess of crayons. His feet kicking.
“Hey, buddy. What’re you doing? Pizza’s gonna get cold.”
Anthony looked up. “Dylan!”
“Hey buddy. Are you hungry?”
“I’m just coloring.”
“I see that.”
Anthony smiled. Back to his masterpiece.
“Whatcha coloring?”
“A picture for Daddy.”
“Oh. That’s nice of you.”
Anthony smiled. “Yeah.”
“Well, Mom wants you to come downstairs for pizza.”
“Okay. I just need to draw in the dragon. And his mustache.”
“The dragon has a mustache?”
Anthony laughed. My smile was instantaneous. “No! Dragons don’t have mustaches!” He laughed some more. Even more kicking.
“Hey, buddy. You’re the one who said it.”
“No! You said it.”
“I said it?!”
“Yeah! You did!”
“No way!”
Anthony giggled. “You did it! You did it! Dragons don’t have mustaches!”
I smiled. “Okay. Then who does?”
“Daddy does.”
“Oh! So you’re drawing Dad’s mustache.”
“Dragons don’t have mustaches.” Anthony laughed again.
“Well, I’m sure Dad will love whatever you’ve drawn for him. So let’s go downstairs and get some pizza.”
“Okay.”
I messed up his hair.
~*~
Katlynn
When the doorbell chimed, the Bell household became a tornado around me. I sat, frozen in the chaos, as Lauren and Annie trampled to the front door like an elephant stampede. Annie’s crayoned drawing drifted in the wind to the floor, narrowly avoiding being stepped on amidst the madness.
Ms. Bell went into a frenzied rush to tidy up the pizza boxes on the kitchen counter. Like a whirlwind, she was everywhere. Wiping this, clearing that, and giving herself a once over by aid of the reflection in the kitchen window.
Dylan flashed me one of his dimpled smiles, and his eyes twinkled their cinnamon brown sparkle that drew me in in the first place. Amongst the madness, his eyes, his smile, his acknowledgement assured me that everything would be okay. My façade of confidence had been broken.
Lauren and Annie pulled a tall, lanky man into the kitchen, their arms wrapped around each of his arms as if letting go meant never seeing him again. The large man’s thick mustache lined his thin lips with the same thickness of his eyebrows: caterpillar-like in length, width, and bushiness. His poignant, spicy cologne wafted through the kitchen, overpowering the greasy pizza’s aroma. His teeth were as white as the Earth is green.
Ms. Bell’s back stiffened as he approached her with an awkward embrace. “Pete.”
“Wendy.”
Dylan was greeted with a firm handshake and a strong, swift pat on the shoulder. Only the manliest for the man of the house, I assumed. Such is the way of the manly man.
The tall man’s cinnamon eyes averted over to me and flickered in renewed charisma. “And who’s this beauty?”
Dylan and Ms. Bell both groaned, for completely different reasons.
Staring into Dylan’s eyes in the body of another, I half expected to blush, but something was unsettling with Mr. Bell. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, so forced a polite smile. “Pleasure to meet you, sir.”
“Sir?” His laugh was like a hollow Santa Claus. “No one calls me Sir. What do I look like? An old man?”
“No, sir, I just meant—“
“There you go again with this sir business.” Santa Claus came out again. “Call me Pete.”
I forced a polite laugh, and Dylan came in his shining armor to my rescue.
“This is Katlynn, Dad,” he said. “I’ve told you about her.”
“Oh, the choir girl. I’ve got it in my notes here. You really struck a chord in my memory, there. I’m afraid that names aren’t my forte, Katlynn, so you’ll have to forgive me. But alas, I’ll give it a rest.” He stressed each pun with a wink and a gentle nudge of his elbow into nothing.
“Dad. Please. It burns,” Dylan joked.
“Quick! Wendy, where is the aloe vera?!”
Wendy’s eyes rolled, like aqua frisbees through the air. She poured herself a tall mug of coffee, letting the habit-forming beverage serve as her escape from the trivial request.
“So, Katlynn, if that is your real name, do you like Chinese food?”
“Chinese food? But there’s pizza…”
“Pizza?” Mr. Bell’s eyes turned from cinnamon to a dark mud in his masked rage as he fired a menacing glare towards Ms. Bell. “I told you on the phone that I was treating the family to Chinese tonight.”
“And I told you, Pete, that Lauren has a peanut allergy, and Anthony does not like Chinese food.”
The tension in the room was like a thick fog that blanketed the kitchen; a fog so thick that its nothingness was the only thing that was visible.
“I think I would have remembered if you had said that, Wendy.”
“Would you have? Because you offer Chinese food every time.”
The fires behind both Mr. and Ms. Bell’s eyes were fueled with each bitter word shot at one another.
“Dad, it’s fine.”
“You’re right, Pickle. It’s fine. No need to worry. We’ll get Chinese next time.”
I couldn’t help but giggle. “Pickle?”
“Like Dyl? Short for Dylan? And as in dill pickles?” Mr. Bell nudged at the air again with each question.
“Dad. Please stop.”
I laughed again.
“So, then, kids. Shall we?”