by Nem Rowan
"I'm fine, really. I'm not sad. At least not because of that, anyway." I was unable to stop myself from smiling as I fingered my remaining slice of toast.
"Well, I am thinking. I have some things for you. Come." She took hold of my amputated arm and gave it a gentle tug. "With me, you come now."
"What? Why?" I questioned as she coaxed me out of my seat.
Mecky pulled me out into the hallway, taking me along the corridor to her bedroom, one of the only rooms in the building I hadn't ventured into yet. Unlike the loft, which was sparsely furnished, this room was crammed with cabinets and photo frames. An entire wall had been dedicated to photos of her husband and son, and just to see it caused an uneasy twinge in my heart as I imagined her looking at them from her bed before she went to sleep. A double bed was central to the room, small bedside tables either side of it and a large double wardrobe had been built into the wall to the left of it. The broad window took up most of the wall above the bed's headboard and through it I could see the backs of the steaming brick buildings that faced the courtyard outside.
She brought me inside and closed the door, leaving me standing beside her cluttered dressing table. One thing struck me as odd; it was overflowing with eyeliner, lipstick, foundation, every kind of makeup you could name, and yet I never saw Mecky wearing any of it. She bypassed the bed and went straight to the wardrobe where she slid one of the doors back and began sorting through the clothing hung up inside. A lot of it was hidden away inside storage bags, zipped up to keep the dust off them.
"I think so a little big, but...we try anyway..." she muttered to herself as she pushed the coat hangers aside, until she finally selected one and lifted it out. It was so long that it trailed along the carpet as she brought it towards me.
"What's this?" I looked between her and the hidden garment.
"For Leon. Try it." She pushed it towards me, and I couldn't help but notice the mischievous glint in her eye.
Frowning cautiously, I took the hanger from her and began to unzip the storage bag. Whatever was inside, it was made of a smooth, silken fabric, black in colour with a delicate, neat pattern of waves sweeping through it. I could tell from the weight that it was obviously good quality fabric. With the zip undone, I pushed the hanger through and lifted out a long, beautiful gown; it was sleeveless with a heart-shaped front, a fitted bodice and a full-length skirt that fell in undulating waves. The colour and uncomplicated elegance of this dress was quite different to what I usually wore on stage, and yet there was something quite sensual about it that instantly made me want to put it on.
"I don't think this will fit me, though," I answered, suddenly remember how much smaller Mecky was compared to me. We were roughly the same height, but I was twice as wide.
"Yes, try! It is not my dress anyway, it is never fitting for me." She giggled as she folded her arms.
I cocked my head slightly as I stared at her, wondering what that was supposed to mean. "So who's dress is it, then?"
A broad, secretive grin stretched across her face. "Piotr."
I stared, unsure if I had heard what I thought I had heard.
"Your husband? This is your husband's dress?" I repeated, and she nodded, not seeming at all bothered by this information.
"Piotr like it to wear lady clothes in the house. His family is not happy for this. We are leaving Poland, to be away from them," she confessed, her smile quickly fading as she peered through her eyelashes at the many photos of him on the wall. "Piotr family is very devout. You know, devout? Is that right?"
"Oh, they're very religious?"
"Yes. Old-fashioned. Not understanding," she mumbled, licking her lips. "But I am. I am loving Piotr. In lady clothes, I love Piotr very much."
I was gobsmacked. But also slightly ashamed, because I had made a judgement based on the way Piotr looked in the photographs; a tall, tough-looking family man with a wife and son. Nothing like me at all, and yet strangely similar.
"I want Leon to have it. To be happy, because this dress is lovely, not to be hung in my wardrobe forever." She looked up at me finally, and she reached, lifting the swathes of fabric into my arms. "I want Leon to wear it. To be beautiful as well."
An intense, crushing ache began to swell in my chest and I moved forward unbidden, capturing her slender form in my one arm so that I could squeeze her tightly. She reached back, her arms slipping round me as we became tangled in the silky black material I clutched from the hanger. After a moment, she leaned back so that she could see my face.
"Change now," she requested, urging me with a gesture of her head.
"In front of you?" I felt myself blushing, which was unusual for me.
"Nothing I am not seeing before," she reasoned, making a brief shrug with her shoulder. "Or, more I am wanting to see, anyway..."
"What?" I smirked, unsure of what she was saying.
"You are hairy, though. Maybe you are shaving?" she suggested, shrugging again as she gestured to the beard I was growing.
"Right now? You want me to shave?" I stared at her in disbelief.
"Yes. Go shave. Woman does not have beard." She laughed as she pinched a bunch of my chin hairs and gave them a little tug.
Well, what an interesting day this one was turning out to be. I rubbed the shaving gel into the short beard that was growing on my face before taking up a razor in my slippery hand and beginning to scrape away at it, leaving the smooth skin beneath exposed. I had almost forgotten what it felt like to shave, and already my lack of a second arm was making it incredibly frustrating to do quickly. I felt ashamed of myself for not mentioning that I had eavesdropped the night before; I had to say something before things became too tangled, just confess to her what had happened with him.
But then, why was she being so kind to me? Hadn't he told her what had happened last night? He must have kept it a secret as I had assumed, not told her what he had been up to or that he and I had argued. I tapped the razor under the running water, washing away the pale, silvery hair down the plug hole. Maybe I was reading too much into this. Yeah, that was it.
"Not bad if I do say so myself," I murmured to myself as I dabbed my freshly-shaved torso dry with a hand towel.
I slipped the dress up my legs, complaining under my breath as I fought singlehandedly with the hook and eye fastenings at the back. What I really needed was Amy to be here, to cinch me in and tape me up. Instead, I struggled through it on my own. I had to get used to doing it myself now, anyway. With the fastenings done up, I adjusted the bodice by yanking it up until it sat snugly under my arms, before bending and patting down the skirts. It really was a lovely item of clothing, probably worth something too, and when I turned to look at myself in the bathroom mirror, I was quite pleased with the image before me as the dress seemed to fit me relatively well. It was maybe just a tad too long and could do with an inch or two off the bottom, but the middle fitted well and actually did a good job of creating a curve in my waist without the use of a corset. I fussed with my hair, raking a hairbrush through it and arranging it over my shoulders like I used to do; there, that wasn't so bad. All I needed now was some makeup and shoes.
When I stepped through the open doorway of her bedroom, draped in the sumptuous gown she had given me, I found Mecky perched on the end of her bed. Her eyes lit up and her mouth perked into an excited grin when she saw me standing there, and I began to feel guilty for putting Piotr's dress on when I hadn't even told her about Ceri.
"You are beautiful," she told me as she looked me up and down.
"Oh—thanks," I replied tentatively. It had been awhile since I had dressed up like this, I almost felt as though I was out of practice.
She nodded, reassured by what I had said as she moved to collect a shoe box from the wardrobe, and when she presented it to me, I found a pair of black patent leather heels nestled amongst the crepe paper. I reached in and took one out to see what size they were; only half a size too big, but they would easily fit. I bent to slip them on and she knelt, bending on
one knee so that she could help me slide my feet into the snug shoes. With them on, I rose several inches taller than her when I stood upright, which seemed to amuse her somewhat.
"Why not sit, you can have makeup." She turned and gestured towards the dressing table.
I swallowed hard and shuffled around her, gathering in my skirt before I slowly seated myself on the little four-legged stool in front of the mirror. My eyes picked through the assortment of products that were laid out on the surface before me, then I reached for one and checked whether it would match my skin tone, discovering that the foundation was a little dark so opting not to use it. She leaned against the side of the dressing table as she watched me checking out the small collection of lipsticks. Without a word, I selected the dark red lipstick and she watched in the mirror as I carefully put it on. My movements were habitual, expert, a sign I had done this hundreds of times.
"Very nice. Red; I like it with your grey hair," she smiled down at me, her arms folded and head tilted slightly. One curtain of her fair hair had slipped out and hung alongside her temple so she kept trying to push it back behind her ear, to no avail.
"Mecky... There's something I wanna tell you..." I murmured as I ran the eyeshadow brush over one of my eyelids.
"What's that?" She didn't sound overly bothered.
"Yesterday... How do I say this..." I paused, lowering my hand and looking at my one darkened eye in my reflection. I looked lopsided. She was looking right at me and the focus of her stare made me feel very uncomfortable indeed. I finished the other eye before I opened my mouth again.
"Yesterday, at the house. Ceri and me kissed. I thought Ceri was single, and I was, well, I was starting to like him. But then..." I trailed off, feeling idiotic and naïve.
"Hmm?" she eyed me. She seemed baffled as to why I was bringing this up.
I turned back to the mirror. I was making a fool of myself. I smudged the brush in the eyeshadow and continued applying it to my other eye.
"I saw you two, last night..." I began again, but it was more of a prompt to get her to speak. Her silence was unbearable to me. "I saw you two kissing...in the loft..."
"Last night you are seeing us?" she frowned. Oh great, now I've done it.
"Yeah. I'm sorry," I paused again and looked up at her apologetically. Her stare had become hard and she looked away from me; a faint blush had crept into her cheeks and all of a sudden, she seemed rather ashamed of herself.
"I was stupid last night with Ceri," she finally answered me. "You know we are dancing and singing last night? My song, it make me sad, think of Piotr and Stefan."
"Oh, your son."
"My son." She nodded, pressing her mouth into a thin line as her eyes became hooded, unable to look at me. "I am crying, sad. Ceri is hugging me, he want to make me feeling better. I am very sad. Not thinking right. I kiss Ceri, I am doing thing of an idiot. I don't know why."
I put the eyeshadow down and sighed, realising what she was saying.
"Ceri is not mine. We are friends. Good friends. Sometimes I am thinking I like him as boyfriend, but I know it is wrong. I am having grief for Piotr. Six months I am missing Piotr, it is not long ago he was dead. My feelings I don't understand," she continued. "After I kiss him, he say no, stop Mecky. Stop that. You are not feeling right. I am saying sorry, and I stop. Very embarrassed. Very embarrassed."
Seeing Mecky upset was difficult when I was so used to her being bouncy and full of joy, the brightest smile in the household and the one who was always the first to get up and try to fill us with enthusiasm. I kicked myself internally; I should have known she would still be grieving for her husband and son. She wouldn't move on from that so soon, jump onto the nearest man who took pity on her. She was better than that, and her relationship with Piotr had been so much more than that. It was obvious from the way she spoke about him how much she had adored him.
"I'm so sorry, Mecky. I've been a complete twat. Come here." I got up and she relented without resistance as I grabbed her tightly, clinging to her with my arm as she held me back, her chin on my shoulder and mine on hers.
"I am not mad at you. It is nice you told me," she answered, her voice so close to my ear as we clutched each other.
"I guess it's a good job I did. I've already made myself look like a right knob. I gave Ceri a good telling off last night, too," I replied, unable to stop myself from sighing with despair.
"He like it. He is telling me how he like Leon to tell him off." She giggled.
"Really?"
"Yes, really. You ask him yourself." She grinned as she eventually let go of me and we stood gazing at each other. Our expressions were the same; mutual feelings of regret, embarrassment and relief. She lifted her hand and stroked my cheek, her thumb running over the smoothness of my jaw.
"Mascara next," she reminded me with a small chuckle.
"Oh yeah. Mascara." I hustled myself into action as I returned to the stool before the mirror. We weren't necessarily doing my makeup I the order I would have usually, but I figured I'd let Mecky guide me, just for fun. Part of me was glad that things had turned out this way, but I also still felt guilty for thrashing Ceri the night before when he was innocent. The problem was that I had grown up being attacked by people, losing trust in people who betrayed me, and as time had gone on, I had learned to jump to defences at the first sign of betrayal, rather than giving the offending person a chance to redeem themselves. It was a survival strategy that had worked so far, but it was also a flawed strategy. I knew that.
Mecky watched as I picked up a tube and popped the halves apart with my thumb and index finger. "I like it to watch the makeup put on... You think it is quite sexy, too?"
"No one's ever said that before, but I guess it is in a way." I agreed, my voice muffled slightly as I leaned closer to the mirror and stroked the tiny brush through my eyelashes.
"Slow process... Man turning into a woman... Like man turning into werewolf..." she spoke in an undertone as her eyes fixed on my movements. It was an interesting comparison.
"I suppose women are equally as fearsome as werewolves." I chuckled softly.
"Leon is very beautiful. I am liking him all the time when I see him. So handsome. Lovely silver hair," she commented as she stepped towards me, gathering my hair in her hands and caressing it with her fingertips. "I am seeing why Ceri likes him."
"Stop it." I grinned up at her reflection.
"I have more clothing for you. You are still wearing briefs under there?" she gestured to my skirt with a cheeky smirk and I stuck my tongue out at her.
"Yeah, but that's not my fault, is it!"
Suddenly we heard the sound of the back door opening, and Christine's voice called a greeting up the stairs, both Mecky and I turning towards the sound in unison.
"They are home. You go see them, show off!" Mecky prompted excitedly. "Go, go!"
"Alright, let me finish," I hurried to tidy up my mascara before I rose from the stool and dusted myself off. She helped me adjust my skirts, her eyes still taking me in as though she found the image of me fascinating. If she thought this was cool, she would have been gobsmacked to see me on stage in full costume.
I couldn't help but feel a sliver of stage fright as I stepped out into the hallway. Neither of them had seen my feminine self in person, with the exception of the old photo of me on the leaflet, but a photo wasn't quite the same as seeing the person before you. I wondered if it would make Ceri have second thoughts about me. I could hear Ceri and Christine talking to each other by the back door and the scraping of fabric as he dragged the tarpaulin over the car. From the snippets of conversation I could make out, they had been shopping and picked up some supplies for the food cupboards. I waited on the hallway for the frozen offerings, and when Christine appeared on the steps, her face became a picture of amazement.
"Leon! You look so different!" she exclaimed as she jogged along the landing towards me in her coat and scarf, an Aldi carrier bag hanging from her wrist. I smiled affectionately as
she nearly bumped into me, and she looked me over with great interest, seeming both shocked and interested to see me in a classy dress and not some scruffy tramp's clothes.
"That's Ms. Leona to you, little madam." I arched an eyebrow as I beamed at her, reaching to gently pinch her cheek.
Just as I spoke, Ceri stepped onto the hallway, and as he plodded towards me with carrier bags dangling from his fists, his eyes met mine and we had a silent standoff. What Mecky had told me earlier had completely changed my thoughts on the disagreement Ceri and I had had the night before. When he had said I didn't understand, he was right. I hadn't, but I also hadn't given him a chance to explain to me. Still, I felt distant to him again, frustrated that he hadn't been open with me. I needed some time to cool down, some time for us to talk.
"You look lovely," he said, his voice sheepishly gentle as he shuffled past; his smile was apologetic, and I saw regret in his eyes that instantly made me want to apologise but I kept my mouth shut.
When Mecky reappeared a few minutes later, she was behaving just as usual except for the little glint in her eye when we looked at each other. She didn't mention what had happened, or at least not in front of me, anyway. We all sat around the table so that Ceri and Christine could share what they had gathered from their trip to the library, Christine describing how infuriating it was to watch Ceri use a computer—he didn't even use the scroll wheel on the mouse!—and that they had done some searching of the names Ceri had gathered from the documents he found at Wallace's house.
He had printed out a heap of things, a wad of paper an inch thick, which he took off upstairs to put with the rest of his piles of newspapers and articles. Mecky took a load of clean washing out of the machine to the living room where she could arrange it on some airers by the radiator, which left me on my own with Christine to put the shopping away. As we opened and closed cupboards and shook out empty carrier bags, I noticed that she kept glancing at me, getting the overwhelming feeling that she wanted to say something to me but didn't know how to broach the subject. I figured I'd leave her to come around to it herself, but when she didn't, I started to get anxious and wanted to find out just what was making her act this way.