“Yeah, practically an all-new me...”

Pete's Vagina
86. Conversion
by Erin Halfelven

Jordan set out paper plates and cups while Lee stumped along behind me as I carried the pizza boxes to the kitchen. “You got your hair cut? And those are new pants?” he remarked, setting the bag of breadsticks and sauces down.

Jordan laughed, I’m not sure why.

“Yeah, practically an all-new me,” I joked, looking up at Lee.

He smiled, and I smiled back. “Gayle,” he said, “You look amazing.”

“You brought some cameras? Get pictures?” Jordan asked, loud enough to be heard over the smell coming from the bag of breadsticks.

“I—yes, they’re still in the van. I didn’t want to try to carry them and the pizza. All right if I go out the back door, Miz Petersen?” he asked, pausing with one hand on the doorknob.

“Sure,” said Mom, making a pot of coffee for her and Dad, who had called to say he was on the way. Pizza with coffee didn’t sound good to me, but my folks drank it all the time with everything.

Out Lee went. I turned back to see Mom and Jordan both looking at me. “What?” I asked.

“Boy fills a room almost as much as Jake,” said Mom, grinning.

Jordan just licked her lips and winked.

“You guys!” I protested. “Lee’s been here before!”

I could hear Lee outside the back door, talking to someone. Then the front doorbell rang and the door started to open before anyone could answer it.

Molly came rushing in, followed by Mrs. Leandro, the mother of Gomo, Molly’s friend, with whom she had spent nearly the entire day. “Pizza!” Molly screeched, making a beeline for the kitchen table.

“Just dropping Molly off,” Mrs. L called out before turning to look at me. “Don’t you look nice? Is that big hunk with the white van outside your boyfriend?”

Molly, having been pushed away from the pizza boxes by Jordan, turned on me. “That’s not a dress!” she said. Then to Jordan, “You said you were going to get her into a dress!”

Jordan laughed. “You’ll see,” she promised our little sister. “Lee went to get his cameras.”

Dad came through the front door, negotiating with Mrs. L to get past her, just as Lee came through the back door, one camera in his hand and another around his neck. “Is that a Polaroid?” I heard Mom ask. At the same time, Lee said, “I think Mr. Peterson is out front.”

“Do you want some pizza, Natale?” Mom called out.

Mrs. L turned that down. “I have to get back home before Gomo starves, Glenna,” she said, adding with a wink to Molly, “Pizza! Gomo’s going to be jealous he didn’t come.”

Dad gave Natale a one-arm hug before she left, and I remembered stories that they had dated back in high school. “Thanks for bringing Molly back,” he told her.

Then he did a little take like he was surprised to see me. “Bangs!” he said. “I love it. You haven’t worn bangs since you were a little girl!”

I frowned at him. I did and didn’t remember having bangs when I started school. Little differences like that in my memories always annoyed me. He came toward me, smiling despite my frown, and I knew I was going to get a paternal hug.

“Oh, Daddy,” I said, and that embarrassed and annoyed me, too. In one set of memories, I’d stopped calling him “Daddy” about the same time I quit wearing bangs in the other one. Having two different pasts is like riding a bicycle with your eyes crossed.

He squeezed me and pecked me on the cheek, murmuring, “We get to see you in your new finery, too?”

“Um,” I sort of agreed.

Lee pushed his way toward me through the incipient crowd around the pizza, waving the Polaroid camera with one hand. “Everyone is going to want to see pictures,” he commented.

“You’ve got the portrait lens on your Hasselblad,” I said, pointing to the blocky camera around his neck. “Why mess with the Polaroid?”

He grinned. “My mom insisted I bring something back to show her, and developing color film from the Hassie would take an hour or more. But I’ll take pictures with it, too.”

I rolled my eyes. Mrs. Frick probably wanted pictures to show her cronies in the cabal that kept Friendly, Arizona, friendly to them. She’s the one who maneuvered me into appearing on television tomorrow, which is why I’d agreed to the shopping expedition earlier. And I did resent her meddling, especially since it was going to involve pictures being taken of me wearing a dress.

Somehow, I didn’t resent Lee, though. And I smiled when I heard Molly ask him, “If they’re still cameras now, what will they be later when they’re not?”

“What?” Lee replied. He didn’t have any younger siblings and wasn’t used to the head-spinning kid logic Molly used to baffle people.

“Isn’t Gomo your boyfriend, Molly?” I teased her. “This one is mine.” I put an arm around Lee’s waist. That felt a bit odd to say, but worth it for her reaction.

“What? No!” she protested, and everyone who heard the exchange laughed.

“Stand over here, Gayle,” said Lee, gesturing. “I’ll get a picture of you in your new slacks. What color do you call those? Not purple.”

“Burgundy,” I said as I moved where indicated.

“And the shirt is pink,” he observed with a small smile.

“Lavender,” I corrected. “Not pink!”

“Not-pink,” he agreed, his smile widening.

“Mmm, garbage pizza, my favorite,” I heard Dad say as Lee adjusted my pose with a fingertip under my chin.

“Garden pizza!” said Mom. “Not garbage. Don’t call it that or Molly won’t eat it.”

“Yes, I will,” Molly countered.

Just as Lee’s cameras started making ‘fricking’ noises, Dad added, “I called and invited Jake to come over. I think he’s going to bring Joanna, too.”

Mom took a moment to exchange glances with me. I gave her a sour look, and she made a face in sympathy.

Did everyone have to come look at me? Jake was my oldest friend, but things between us were a bit strained, now. And Joanna was the fourth person in the building, after Megan, when everything changed for me. I didn’t need the reminder. And Joanna was promising to nominate me for Homecoming Queen— I think just to stir the pot with the TV interviewers.

“Five-and-a-half teenagers in the house?” Mom was saying. “I’m not sure we’ll have enough food.”

“Am I the half-a-teenager?” Molly asked, grinning when Mom nodded at her.

“That’s why I told Jake to bring Chinese,” Dad told Mom. “Sweet-and-sour pork, Szechwan chicken, fried rice, lo mein— there’ll be plenty.”

Lee handed me the first of the Polaroids, and I saw a smiling young woman with a fashionable hairstyle wearing a shirt that did look pink, damnit. “Now with the Hassie,” he said, “I promise it won’t hurt.”

I looked up at him and stuck out my tongue.

He laughed, and the doorbell rang.