I needed an apron. Mum had got rid of Dad's aprons along with the rest of his clothes: "It made me sad to look at them" - fair enough. I could ask Mum to buy me one, they shouldn't cost much, but then again, I knew that money was tight. I had an idea.
About a year before his own death, my Dad's younger sister (my Aunt Edie) had died. I hardly remember her at all. She was an unmarried and unhealthy woman. Apparently, she was always sick with something, so her death wasn't a great surprise. Dad was the last of his family and her heir. After all the debts were paid, Dad received the grand sum of $2000 and two trunks of her clothes and personal items. We still had the two trunks in the back of the garage. I went fossicking.
"Okay," I announced to my family in the most severe tone I could muster as I held up the items I'd recovered from the trunks - two rather feminine aprons, "to save money, I'm prepared to wear these when I'm cooking . . . BUT that is provided that nobody makes fun of me."
Promises all round.
After I put one on, Jason couldn't help himself, "You could be my little sister."
"Jason!" I admonished sternly.
"I'm not making fun of you, Robbie, it's just that . . ." he petered out.
Mum and Brett were glaring at him.
When we had finished eating, Jason came over to me at the sink. "Robbie, I'm sorry; I didn't mean anything bad. You see, I've always liked the idea of having a little sister and . . .you're the closest thing I've got to that."
He was so obviously sincere that I smiled and said, "Okay, Jase, you're forgiven."
He gave me a hug and said, "Thanks, sis."
I pulled back, "Sis?"
"Do you mind? Just when you're wearing your apron."
"Jason, you're hopeless," I declared with a twisted smile, "get out of here."
He went away happy.
Brett soon picked up on the 'sis' and then it spread beyond the kitchen. I really didn't mind. I loved my brothers and I felt that the 'sis' was an expression of their affection for me.
YOU ARE READING
Robin
ContoA transgender journey through family tragedy and difficulty, but there is some humour and, of course, a happy ending.