The Garden Party

 Hi everyone,

here's another short snippet that perhaps doesn't make too much sense, but at the same time. I managed to confine it to two paragraphs.

“It’s really great that you’ve lost so much weight, Rebecca,” Julie said, “But you’re not doing yourself any favours with that haircut. You look like a boy in a dress.”

My girlfriend shrugged at her sister disinterestedly.

“Julie’s got a point, Rebecca,” Rebecca’s mother Cynthia agreed, “Compared to you, Peter looks almost like a girl in boy’s clothes.”

I blushed and inadvertently clutched at my girlfriend’s muscular forearm, sticking out bare from the sleeveless top of her blue dress.

“I’m not sure about that, though,” Julie said, “I didn’t know men’s pants zipped at the back.”

I felt myself blushing even more furiously. Rebecca wrapped her arm around my shoulders and I found comfort in leaning into her, though at the same time our height difference, exacerbated by her high heeled shoes, made me even more self-conscious.

“Julie!” Cynthia chided her.

“What? Like I’m the only one to notice,” Julie protested.

“You’re making Peter uncomfortable,” Cynthia explained.

“Me?” Julie said, “You’re the one who said he looked like a girl!”

“I was only making a point about Rebecca’s boyish looks,” Cynthia replied.

A moment of uncomfortable silence passed as neither of us moved.

“But yes, to answer your question,” Cynthia said, pouring herself more coffee from the pot, “I recognized Peter’s shorts immediately as my own. Couple of days ago, Rebecca took a bunch of my old clothes. Made me wonder as unlike you, she never seemed to care much for them. I guess now we know the real reason.”

Indignant at the sudden realisation that the shorts Rebecca had me wear for her mother’s garden party had come from her mother’s closet, I tried to extricate myself from her embrace, but she easily subdued my feeble attempt. Not wanting to make our struggle, and my losing role in it, any more obvious, I gave up and reluctantly sunk back into her side.

“You’re wearing mom’s old clothes?” Julie exclaimed, “Why?”

“Rebecca likes me to wear them,” I replied softly, not far from the truth.

“You mean she makes you wear them,” Julie replied.

With tears of humiliation welling up behind my eyes, I desperately turned to Rebeca to say something to defend my honour. Instead, she glared back at her sister defiantly, all but admitting to her claims.

“I guess it’s also her that likes that soft wave in your hair,” Julie continued, “And your legs smooth and hairless.”

“Julie, that’s enough!” Cynthia stopped her and changed the topic.




After some time without my image, or the true nature of my relationship to Rebecca being mentioned, I gradually relaxed enough to drift away from Rebecca’s side. I was actually starting to enjoy the informal party until I found myself cornered by Cynthia near the edge of her garden. Suddenly, I felt painfully aware of the fact that she was the donor not only of my orange linen shorts, but in all probability of my cream loafers and black cotton blouse, as well.

“You know,” she said, licking her lips, “There were a couple of dresses in that bunch of clothes I gave Rebecca. Has she made you wear them, too?”

I felt myself blushing at her bluntness.

“Not yet,” I said, then blushed again at having inadvertently revealed yet another detail of the power balance of our relationship.

“Doesn’t matter,” she replied, “The real pretty ones are still shelved up in my closet. Next time you come over, I think I might make you wear one.”

She looked at me challengingly and as I looked at what I had been increasingly recognizing as an older version of Rebecca, towering above me on her four inch stilettos, I knew that I would be powerless to resist her, too. As if to prove that, she produced a tube of pink lipstick and proceeded to apply it to my lips while I stood still, obediently.

“I’m going to invite your mother to my next garden party,” she said, “I’m counting on you to make sure she comes.”

“Okay,” I breathed, tasting the glistening coating over my lips.

“I wonder if she, too, will like you the same things me and Rebecca will like you to wear,” she said, then turned on her heel and rejoined her party.