Chapter 4

Totsie

It was late August, the day before my coming out ceremony. Totsie had been staying at school for the summer, she had friends there and preferred it to home with her family, but she had come home for the event: her younger sister entering into womanhood in the eyes of society.

From the moment I saw her again, for the first time in months, I realized just how wrong I'd been about why we didn't get along. Memories flooded back to me, and I realized that it was her coldness, not maturity, that I had resented for almost as long as I could remember.

When I hugged her due to nothing but family obligation, I remembered another reason I disliked her. The scent of strong perfume sprayed on much too heavily danced menacingly into my nostrils, and I could almost feel it seeping into my clothes, threatening to penetrate my skin and plague me with the stench.

"Emily darling," she said after she had finished hugging me, "becoming a woman tomorrow. How sweet," she said, almost as if she was trying to irritate me. Although I was only four years younger than her and, as of tomorrow, no different in the eyes of the all-important society, she always talked down to me, as if I was nothing more than a child.

I gave her a smile that I hoped didn't look too pained, willing myself to keep my composure no matter what she said to me. "Nice to see you again, Totsie," I said, completely falsely, although she didn't seem to pick up on it.

"Are you excited?" she asked, as if asking a very young child if she was excited about the arrival of the Easter bunny.

"I suppose," I said, veiling my mortification not at the question directly, but the way it had been asked.

"Well that's nice," she said. She then moved on to my younger sisters, greeting them much as she had me. It disgusted me that Hopie got almost the exact same greeting as I had, considering how much younger she was than I.

I looked on as Totsie finished greeting Hopie and immediately struck up small talk with Rose, skipping entirely the childish greetings she hadn't spared the rest of us.

I took Totsie's moving on to Rose as a cue to escape upstairs with Isabelle. She understood this as well, and we walked from the room casually, and then trotted quickly up two flights of stairs to my room.

I guess being older automatically gives my room precedence as the room Isabelle and I hung out in together, simply because we always had. I didn't know if this rule always held true, because when I was with Rose, we never seemed to be in either of our bedrooms. It was always either our shared room that I had previously thought of as mine, or somewhere else, such as outside, where we often walked as we talked. I didn't spend a great deal of time with my other two sisters, and I didn't really know what they did when together without me, so I wasn't sure if this was a general rule, or just what Isabelle and I did.

"Intolerable," Isabelle said as soon as we were behind my closed door. "She's simply intolerable."

"I don't know how Rose can stand her," I said.

"She treats Rose differently, like she's ten years older than we are. She's only three years older than me, and only two years older than you. Totsie apparently doesn't understand that, though."

"Maybe it's more the difference of two years younger than Totsie verses four or five, as we are," I said, with more reason than Totsie deserved.

"Are you making excuses for her?" Isabelle asked, looking almost hurt. "Because I thought you were on my side."

"Not purposely," I said. "I am on your side."

"Good. Act like it, okay?" she said. "Can I see your dress again?"

"Sure," I said. Somehow my coming out seemed a bigger deal to Isabelle than it was to me. I took it carefully out of my closet and set it on my bed, careful to set it down so that it wouldn't wrinkle.

"Wow," she said, looking over my dress carefully for what seemed like the millionth time. "It's such a good dress, Em."
"Personally, I like it," I said, smiling.

My sister held her hand just barely an inch above the dress, moving it up and down the fabric gingerly, as if she wanted to touch it, but was afraid.

"You can touch it Is," I said, smiling now at the curious ways of my younger sister.

"Really?" she asked, as if in disbelief that I would let her touch such a sacred article.

"Yes, of course." It didn't matter in the slightest to me that she touched it. Although I loved the dress, it certainly didn't mean so much to me that I wouldn't allow it to be touched, especially by Isabelle, who was not only my favorite sister but one of my best friends.

Watching Isabelle place her hand so carefully on my dress and run her hand down the fabric as if it were the best feeling in the world for her gave me more pleasure than the dress ever had, which surprised me slightly. "Em, you're coming out tomorrow," Isabelle said, stating what seemed at this point to be obvious.

"I know," I said automatically. I watched my sister continually stroke my dress, and I smiled, a smile that had nothing to do with the next day. It was then that I felt and heard words cross my lips that I was positive never entered into my conscious mind, although once they came out, I immediately knew I meant them. "You can try it on if you'd like," I said in a soft voice, the slightest trace of a smile on my lips.

"Em, really?" she asked, as if truly not believing that I had meant what I said. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," I said, not giving it a second thought. I trusted Isabelle very wholeheartedly with this dress, especially considering the way she had been handling it.

"You're really sure? Because…"

I knew my sister wouldn't refuse. Unless I took away the offer, she would be wearing my dress in a matter of moments. I had no thoughts, however, of withdrawing my offer. "Yes I'm sure," I said, smiling very sincerely. "Now go try it on."

I watched my sister pick up my dress as if it were the most important thing she had ever laid her hands on and take it behind my closet door to put it on. She emerged moments later, wearing my dress.

Isabelle was almost the exact same height and body build as I was, and in many ways we looked similar. Her hair was a little darker than mine, and without the red color than mine definitely possessed, and I had bangs while she didn't, but other than that, we did look much the same.

She looked nice in the dress, but somehow the picture didn't work. It was my dress, and truly I didn't mind that she wore it, it just didn't seem right. She was only fifteen, and although only a year younger than I, seemed far too young to be wearing a coming out dress. I could tell she enjoyed it though, and I myself enjoyed watching her.

Isabellestared at herself in my vanity mirror, her face holding a mysterious expression. She was smiling, but just barely. She turned around to look straight at me, and said again, "Em, you're coming out tomorrow."

I don't know if it was the dress or the most sincere expression Isabelle now wore, but this time instead of rolling off of my mind the second it hit, it really sank in. The reality hit me; I was coming out the next day. It was a big deal, as much as I for some reason had been continually telling myself it wasn't. I was excited and nervous, and all of these emotions seemed to hit me at one time. Not because I was happy or upset, but from the sheer rush of emotion all at once, I felt my eyes begin to tear ever so slightly. I looked Isabelle straight in the eye and after a moment, said, "You're right," almost in a whisper.

"Excited?" she asked. It was the millionth time I had responded to this question, but the first time I had really heard it.

"Yes."

"Nervous?"

"Yes."

"It'll be great."

"I know."

"Want your dress back now?" Isabelle smiled.

"Yes."

"Okay." She went back behind my closet door and emerged a moment later in her ordinary clothes. I didn't know how, but seeing my sister in my dress made it finally clear to me that I was coming out. I was going to become a woman in the eyes of society. For what was the first, but not the last time, that mattered to me.