Big Shoes

“Um…Mom?” Sadie asked.
“Yeah, what is it, sweetie?”
“Why are there giant shoes in your closet?”
Uh-oh, Angela thought. “What do you mean?”
“I was in your closet to get that sweater, and there’s like…a pair of size twelve heels?”
“Really? I don’t know, the last owners left some clothes and stuff.” They had been in the house for three years.
Sadie made a face of disbelief. “Weird. What’s for dinner?”
“Chicken and rice. Twenty minutes.”
“Is Dad home?” she asked.
“Not yet, he’s got practice.”
“It’s just weird, Mom,” Sadie said again. “They were, like, out.”
“I don’t know, Sadie. I was moving stuff around last week. Re-arranging. I must have left them out.” She tried to change the subject. “How was school today? Are you finding your way around OK?”
“It’s the second week, Mom. I’m not a child.” Sadie rolled her eyes. She was in her first semester of high school.
“When does field hockey start?”
“I think practice starts Thursday? There was some problem with the turf field, so everyone is sharing. Anyway, they gave us uniforms today.”
“Oh, let me see!”
Sadie glided over to the kitchen table and pulled the jersey and the little red, white and black plaid skirt out of her bag.
“Cute!” Angela said.
“I guess…It’s kinda short.” Sadie didn’t like short or tight.
“Some of the girls wear shorts underneath, I think.”
“Yeah.”
They heard the car pull in the driveway, and a moment later the front door opened.
“I’m home!” Chris called out from the doorway.
“Hi!” Angela called back.
Chris walked into the kitchen, his messenger bag over his shoulder.
“Hey, Sadie.”
“Hi, Pop! How was practice?”
“Good, easy run today. Just getting started.” Chris was an English teacher and the cross-country coach at the school Sadie attended.
He noticed the skirt on the table. “You got your uniform?”
“Yep!”
“Dinner in fifteen minutes!” Angela warned.
“Ok, I’ll be right back. Anything need to be done?”
“Nope, all set. Sadie, will you set the table?”
Sadie sighed the deep sigh of a put-upon teenager.
“Sure,” she said with an eye roll.
Sadie set the places while Angela removed the bird from the oven, placed the rice in a bowl, and took the green beans off the stove. Sadie made sure the knife blades faced the plate and folded the napkins perfectly. The Carlsons’ silverware was made up of random sets, accumulated over years of apartments before finding a house, but Sadie made sure it all matched when she did the table. She liked it just so.
Chris came back down from upstairs and washed his hands in the kitchen sink.
“You know I hate that!” Angela scolded. “Do it in the bathroom.”
“Why do you care, my dear?” Chris said with a smile.
“I don’t know. But you know I don’t like it. It seems…unsanitary.”
“Ok, Ok. Yum, this looks delicious!” Chris loved chicken.
They sat down to the table and passed dishes around. They ate in silence for a few moments until Sadie asked, “Dad, what size shoes do you wear?”
Angela coughed on her mouthful of beans.
“Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know, just curious. Are men’s and women’s sizes the same?”
“Um, I’m not sure. I don’t think so? Angela, do you know?” He knew perfectly well.
“No, they aren’t the same,” Angela said, studying her plate.
“So, what size?”
“Well, sometimes ten and a half, sometimes eleven.”
“In men’s sizes?” Sadie asked.
“Well, yeah. Of course.”
“Uh-huh. No, I was just wondering because I like your Chuck Taylors and I wondered if they would fit me.”
“No, Sadie, my feet are much bigger. Anyway, you have a pair.”
“Yeah, but I like your blue ones.” Sadie twirled her fork and looked across the table at her mother.

***

“What was that all about? The shoes?” Chris asked as they climbed into bed. He had been playing it cool but was dying to ask all night.
“She saw your shoes in the closet.”
“Oh.”
“Oh!” Angela repeated. The weekend before school started, Sadie had stayed over with some friends. Chris and Angela had a date night, and Chris had “dressed up.”
It was, for better or for worse, a part of their marriage. Chris had admitted to Angela shortly after they met that he, on occasion, enjoyed wearing women’s clothes.
“What did she say? Does she know?”
“She asked why there were giant shoes in my closet and said it was weird.”
Chris cringed and then chuckled. He wished his feet were smaller. Most cute women’s shoes only went to elevens, sometimes tens.
Chris sighed. “Well, based on that line of questioning, she at least suspects, I guess…”
“Yeah, she gave me a look at the table,” Angela said.
“What kind of look?”
“I don’t know. A look. She’s suspicious.”
“I mean, I guess it was bound to happen at some point.”
“Did you want it to?”
Chris threw his hands up. “No, she doesn’t need to know.” He paused. “Does she?”
“Let’s just leave it alone for now, OK?”
“Yeah, OK. It’s really not that big of a deal, right?”
“It might be to her. But her generation is different about stuff.”
“Yeah, but I’m her dad. It might be weird.”
“Chris, It IS weird.”
“Yeah.” And they both laughed.
“Be more careful, alright?” Angela asked.
“Maybe too late.”
“Maybe. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.” They kissed and rolled over on their sides

***

The truth, Angela thought, is that she kind of liked it. It gave Chris a level of vulnerability that made it, in some ways, easier for them to exist in their marriage as equals. What was the word she liked? Egalitarian.
She’d other relationships before Chris, of course, and they were different. One guy was a bit controlling and jealous. Another treated her like a child, explaining things that were obvious. Another…Well, there were a bunch, and they all, in one way or another, put their masculinity on display. In some ways, Chris was a typical guy, oblivious about certain things, but there was a softness there too.
A few people knew about Chris’…hobby. A lifelong woman friend, a cousin, another woman he met on the internet before Angela. At various times, he had considered being more open about it, but his job, working with kids, left it largely a secret.
It was also fun. There was a playfulness to it, and Angela could see the joy that Chris took from it. That made it exciting for her, too.
Sure, it’s weird, Angela thought again. But it’s our weird.

***

Sadie had noticed in elementary school that girls always carried their books against their chest, but boys carried them down by their hip. Sometimes she wondered why that was. Once she tried to carry her books like the boys did, but it felt odd. She couldn’t explain it.
She liked high school so far. She was good at field hockey. She wasn’t exactly popular, but she had friends and nobody bothered her. She was a good student, especially in English and history. She just felt out of place sometimes, like she didn’t know what other kids in her grade knew. Maybe because she was an only child? She didn’t have siblings to explain how the adolescent world worked.
That day she went into the bathroom after homeroom and saw Abby and Jessie by the mirror. She had known them since kindergarten, but they seemed so sophisticated now.
“Hey, Sadie! I have your dad for English!”
“Really! Do you like him?” That felt super weird.
“Yeah, he’s cool.”
Sadie smiled.
“Somebody asked about you!” Jessie whispered conspiratorially.
“What do you mean?” Sadie’s eyes got big.
“Jonas asked me if you have a boyfriend.”
Sadie looked down and blushed.
“He’s cute,” Abby added. She was touching up her face. “Do you ever wear makeup?”
“No.”
“Oh, let me do your mascara! You’d look so pretty!”
“Is there time?” Sadie asked.
“Sure, I can do it quick.”
“OK…”
“Cool! Come here. OK. Look up.”
Sadie felt the little brush on her lashes and blinked.
“Keep them open!”
Sadie giggled.
“Check yourself!” Jessie laughed.
Sadie looked at her new lashes in the mirror. It did make a difference, she thought. She liked it, but it felt kind of funny.
The bell rang and the girls went their separate ways.
She kept it on all day but wiped it off in the locker room before field hockey. She didn’t want her parents to see when she got home. She wasn’t sure why.

***

It seemed like the crisis had passed. The next few weeks went by without another comment or question. Sadie was happy at school and was enjoying field hockey. She usually beat her dad home from practice, and Angela typically got home before both.
“Mom, can you show me how to do mascara?”
“That’s a first,” Angela replied.
Sadie laughed. “I think it’s time, Mom.”
Angela thought, I guess I really have a high schooler now.
“C’mon upstairs.” And they shared a mother-daughter ritual.
“Just makeup in general, honey…Less is more. You have beautiful skin.”
“OK, Mom.”
Angela showed her how to use the curler. Sadie fumbled with it but eventually succeeded. “Not too bad, kid!” Angela said.
Angela demonstrated, and Sadie handled the little wand awkwardly too. She tried to do her left lashes with the wand in her right hand until Angela said, “Try it with the other hand. It might be easier.”
“Ok,” Sadie said as she poked herself in the eye and laughed.
“You just have to practice.”
“Yeah. Thanks, Mom.”
“We should probably get you your own. We can go to Sephora this weekend and look around if you want.”
“OK! I want some of that cream you have…”
“Save your money, then,” Angela said with a laugh.

***

Friday evening, the dinner table once again.
“Plans for the weekend?” Chris asked. “I’ll be gone Saturday morning. The runners have the invitational meet at St. Matt’s.”
“We’re going to Sephora!” Sadie exclaimed.
“Oh, that’ll be nice. What are you shopping for?”
“I’m going to get mascara. I don’t know what else.”
Chris thought about the first time he went to Sephora and had his makeup done. Exhilarating.
“We’ll see. Maybe get some tips from the girls,” Angela added.
“Cool. Have fun.”
Angela knew Chris was envious and she smiled a slight, secret smile.
Envy. It was Chris’ strongest emotion as far back as he could remember. How did it start? He believed it was always there. As a young child, he dreamt of wearing girls’ clothes and would awaken with a feeling of great warmth and comfort. He recalled a Halloween, when he was no more than three or four. A neighborhood kid came to trick or treat dressed as a girl. It made a lasting impression.
It continued through school. He would watch the girls, not like the other boys did, thinking of being them, not being with them. Well, a little of each, perhaps. His envy increased at dress-up events like dances or weddings, when he would think “If I were a girl, I’d wear that!”
It remained a fantasy through adolescence, until finally, years later, after a breakup, he guessed his size and ordered a dress from Amazon. The door was open. His process and his presentation became more sophisticated. He shared his newfound persona (he thought of it that way, it wasn’t just clothes) with a friend and a cousin and eventually ventured out. Being out in public was a rush of excitement, adrenaline and fear.
A brief relationship Chris had before Angela ended awkwardly when he revealed his proclivity to his new partner. His secret was intact, but he was taken aback by the young woman’s anger that he had not revealed it earlier. He decided that if he was going to be in a relationship, he would reveal it as soon as possible. So, on his second date with Angela, after explaining, “This is something I do sometimes…” Chris held out his phone to reveal a picture of his other persona.
Angela had been surprised, but also curious. She asked for some time to process this new information, asked a few questions via email, and accepted another date, and another. They were married a year later. Christina was just a part of Chris, and a part of the marriage.

***

Sadie came down the stairs on Saturday morning. Angela was at the kitchen counter getting ready to make coffee.
“Did you start your coffee yet, Mom?”
“No, how come?”
“Can we go to Starbucks on the way instead?”
“Sure. Are you ready?”
“Yeah.” Angela noticed that Sadie had a little purse on her shoulder. She rarely carried one. Growing up.
They pulled through the drive-through. Coffee for Angela, pumpkin spice chai for Sadie.
“This is SO GOOD, Mom!”
Angela smiled at her daughter as she drove.
They pulled into Sephora but sat for a few minutes to finish their drinks.
“Ready? Let’s go!”
Almost immediately, a young saleswoman swooped in. “Hi, ladies, can I help you with something?” Angela looked at Sadie.
“Yes. Um. Mascara? And maybe some lip gloss?”
“OK!” The young woman smiled brightly. “Come with me!” and off they went, into a new phase of girlhood.
Angela held back and browsed through the aisles. She knew the saleswoman would upsell Sadie, but she didn’t care. Sadie would have fun and Angela would overpay.
After a few minutes, Angela gravitated towards them and saw the two laughing together and testing things on Sadie’s hand. She turned around again and went to look for the skin cream that Sadie had mentioned.
Ooh. Pricy.
Now the saleswoman approached with Sadie in tow. “So, Mom, we’ve found a couple mascaras for Sadie and a nice, modest lip color too!” She held the three products out for Angela’s inspection.
“OK, great. Thanks so much for your help. Happy, Sadie?”
“Yep, she showed me a way to do the mascara too!”
“Perfect!” Angela exclaimed.
“OK, we can take you right to the checkout!” continued the exuberant young woman.
The cashier asked, “Phone number, please?” and Angela reeled it off.
“OK…Christina?” Sadie looked up, surprised.
“Ah, no. Angela.”
“Oh, I have Christina with this number…Oh, wait, I see you are both on here.”
Angela didn’t say anything. She looked at the cashier.
“That will be $52.33. Card?”
“Yep.”
“Go ahead and swipe…Receipt?”
“No, thanks.”
“OK, have a nice day.”
Angela headed out the door and to the car, Sadie a step behind. They both got in and clicked their seatbelts on.
“Mom…”
“Honey, let’s talk later.”
They drove home in silence, and Sadie went upstairs when they got home.
Angela texted Chris. “She knows.” And followed up with a blow-by-blow, and finally, “You need to talk to her.”
Chris, at the meet, responded simply, “OK.”

***

The bus returned to school and the runners were picked up one by one until the last was gone. Chris drove home, nervous. He thought back to the conversation with Angela on the night of the shoes. Different generations, yes. Sadie had been to Pride, knew and socialized with gay kids. There was a trans girl in her class, and she seemed to like her, although they weren’t really friends. But I’m her dad…
He pulled into the driveway and sat for a minute. Time to do it. He sighed and went inside. Angela was on the couch, reading. She smiled at him as he came in.
“How is she?”
“I think she’ll be ok. She’s upstairs.”
“OK.”
He climbed the stairs slowly and called out. “Hey, Sadie.”
“Hey, Pop.”
“Want to come down on the deck and talk?”
“Yeah. OK.”
He went out the back door and waited for her. She appeared a few seconds later and came through the door with her eyes on her feet. Awkward. They sat in the Adirondack chairs.
“So, I guess you figured some things out. The shoes that you saw in your mom’s closet, they’re mine.”
“OK…”
“And yes, I shop at Sephora sometimes.”
Sadie chuckled. She avoided eye contact, still looking down.
“Ok…you’re Christina?” Sadie said as she looked up.
“It’s…look, I know it’s weird for you, but it’s…something I do…It makes me happy…I can explain more if you want.”
“You don’t have to.”
“This might not be fair, but you can’t tell anyone. School, ya know?”
“I wouldn’t, Dad.”
“OK, do you want to see a picture?”
“Really?! Yeah!”
“OK.” Chris pulled out his phone and flipped through some things. “Here I am.”
“OH MY GOD!” Chris couldn’t tell what this meant.
“Dad, You’re so pretty!” She smiled a big smile and Chris exhaled.
“That means a lot to me, honey.”
Sadie took the phone and zoomed in.
“How did you do your eyeliner? Can you show me!?”