Peter’s friends were well within earshot. He glanced over his shoulder to see if they’d heard or noticed. His eyes met one of theirs so he quickly turned away.
“…and it’s so long since you’ve had a new dress.” his mother continued, just as loudly.
“Can we just walk.” Peter pleaded in a hushed tone.
They began walking, but it was too late. He didn’t turn as he heard one shout “What you wearing Pete?”, another shout “Fucking sissy!” and the others burst into a gabble of laughs and jeers. His mother advised him to ignore them as words like ‘freak’, ‘queer’ and ‘tranny’ faded into the distance.
A proud smile swept her face as her work was now done. They walked another fifty yards until she stopped him again. “Now… if you don’t want to go through with this appointment, I’ll understand.” she said, “But you will have to get yourself a job or a college course because I’m not going to carry you for much longer.”
Peter did consider ditching the appointment, but he’s come this far whether he’s liked it or not. “No I’ll go.” he moaned. “I’m already the town freak as it is.”
“Good, his mother smiled.” she pulled open a large glass door and let him walk inside the building first The large foyer was sparsely furnished with only a reception desk, seating area and the odd potted plant filling the cavernous space. One wall was a floor to ceiling window, the other clad in marble with a solitary elevator. Butterflies flocked in his tummy as they neared the wide reception desk. The receptionist looked at them both and asked if she could help. “My son Peter has an appointment with Mrs Drummond.” his mother proudly announced as Peter wanted to die.
“Oh, erm…” the blushing receptionist said as she checked her computer. “Yes, Peter Jackson at one PM?” she confirmed, looking directly at Peter. He nodded and felt his new curly hair bounce around his head. “If you’ll take a seat, she’ll be down shortly.”
Peter and his mother walked to the waiting area and sat. “You might want to check your lipstick Peter, there’s a vanity mirror in your purse.”
“But she might be here any second.” Peter replied, not wanting to be spotted in public doing something girlie like applying lipstick.
“That’s precisely why you need to re-apply.” she replied.
Peter opened his purse and removed the lipstick, followed by the small vanity mirror. He applied it as best he could and asked his mother if it was OK.
“Perfect.” she smiled. “You’re a natural.”
The sound of heels on the marble floor and the words, “Hello Heather, this must be Peter?” drew his attention away from his reflection.
“Jennifer.. hello.” Peter’s mother said, standing up. “Yes this is him.” she proudly stated.
Peter nervously stood and shook the outstretched hand.
