Boys Don't Wear Those                by: Petra Pan

 

Boing....boing....boing....boing

Terry dribbled his basketball happily,

boing....boing....boing...Gon-na....hav-a....par....ty. Eight....years....old....gon-na----hav----a....party....boing....boing....boing

Down the street into the shoe-and-harness-shop. The ball stopped, captured on the rebound. "Hi, Mr. Nickles."

"Hi, Terry." The elderly gentleman smiled up from his work bench. "How are you today?"

"OK." He wandered over to the bench. "Watcha doin"?"

Mr. Nickles picked up a bright silver buckle. "I'm fixing this pair of shoes. They're called "Mary Jane's." He carefully set a rivet in the strap, then hit it. Hard. "There! All fixed!" He laid it beside it's mate. "What do you think?"

"They sure are pretty. Can I try them on?'

"May you try them on?" Mr. Nickles corrected. "I don't think so. Little boys don't wear these kind of shoes. They're for little girls."

"Why?'

"Well, I think you'd better ask your daddy about that one," Mr. Nickles smiled.

"OK."

Boing....boing....boing

Terry dribbled slowly out the door, smiling to himself. He'd seen the gaily wrapped box at home, of a size and shape that could only hold shoes.

boing....boing....boing. He did a few quick passes behind his back and between his legs. The ball escaped, rolling down a slight incline, bouncing against a petite sandaled foot with red toenails. The foot made a quick capture, holding the ball until Terry arrived. "Thank you, Mrs. Jeffries," Terry said as he collected the runaway. He smiled at the toddler on Mrs. Jeffries hip. "Hi Janet."

Janet giggled around her lollipop and wiggled out of her mommy's arms. Candy-colored drool streamed out the corner of her mouth, saturating her dress clear through to her rumba tights. She threw her arms around Terry; when he bent over, she presented him with a sticky kiss.

"You're welcome, Terry." Mrs Jeffries smiled in return. "And what are you about this fine afternoon?"

"Nothin' much." A chill early-spring breeze swirled around his bare legs. "Those sure are pretty---uh.....uh...." He nodded at Janet's tights.

"Thank you," Mrs Jeffries answered for Janet. "They're called tights. Yes, they are pretty. They help keep her legs warm."

"Tights," he repeated, adding the word to his vocabulary.

Boing....boing....boing...."Well, I gotta go. Bye."

"Good-bye, Terry." Janet favored him with another sticky kiss.

Boing....boing....boing....boing....gonna hav-a....party....boing....boing....boing. "That other package," he thought. "They just had to be tights. What color are they?" he wondered to himself. "Blue? Red? I know! Dark blue with white lace!"

.Boing....boing....boing

Around the corner. The faint breeze became brisk, causing him to shiver and his teeth to chatter. He ducked quickly into another shop.

"Don't you dare bounce that ball in here, young man!" A buxom woman called around a mouthful of pins. She removed them. "Now! Come over here and give your Mrs. Molly a big hug!" A smile belied her rough voice. "And to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? Not too many gentlemen voluntarily walk into a seamstres shop, you know."

He threw his arms around her. "Hi, Mrs. Molly. I just wanted to visit." He recounted his morning wanderings. "And then I came to see you!" he finished the account excitedly.

"And glad I am to see you, too," she chuckled, giving him another hug. "I sure could use an extra hand with this dress. Would you hold these pieces together...." she carefully placed the parts in position.... "while I pin them?"

"It sure is pretty, Mrs. Molly." He helped her set some more pieces together and pin them. "I'm gonna get a pretty dress like this."

"That's odd," she replied, puzzled. "Your daddy was in here getting a present for you, but it sure wasn't a dress! Little boys don't wear dresses. Instead," she nodded to a mannequin "little boys wear tuxedos."

"Why?"

"Well, You'll have to ask your daddy that one.".

"OK."

"What made you think he'd get you a dress?"

"Cause I've been asking for one ever since I was a little kid. And today's my birthday, and," he finished triumphantly, "I saw the package!"

They finished pinning and basting; he chattering happily about his new dress; she in troubled silence.

"I better get home," Terry said, stepping back to admire their work. "It's almost supper time."

"A workman is worthy of his hire," she quoted, reaching under the counter. "Here you go," she extracted a bag of caramels. "Now remember, don't eat them until after supper. OK?"

"OK. Thank you." He reclaimed his ball and walked out the door. Safely outside he began dribbling again.

Boing-boing-boing....... Around the corner and up the hill to home.

"Watcha doin, Dad? Can I help?" He bounced his ball a few times in the open door of the clinic. The doctors Anderson, DVS, smiled at their only child.

"Think you can handle it?" Doctor Rose asked him.

"Sure he can," Doctor Tod replied. "You should have seen him help me geld that stallion yesterday." To Terry: "Go and scrub while I tell you what we're doing."

The ball rolled away, forgotten. "Yea, Mom!" He excitedly pushed a stool to the sink and began scrubbing his hands. "We turned a colt into a foal!"

"So that's what you call it," Dr. Rose smiled. "And I thought it was called gelding a stallion!"

Doctor Tod explained the case. "This patient is an English sheep dog. Weight is fifty three pounds, height is twenty-seven inches. He has some skin growths which need to be removed. I've given him a shot of Zylocaine to numb the area, and your mother has used a number seven scalpel to make the initial incision."

Doctor Rose continued the lecture. "I'll make a cut through the skin, using simple pressure to control bleeding...." Terry hurriedly slipped on his rubber gloves and scooted his stool over to the operating room table with his feet. "Just hold this, son," she placed his hand on a retractor,; "let me know if it starts to slip, so I can reset it. OK?"

"OK, Mom."

"See where all those blood vessles are? We'll just clamp them off and tie them with this." She suited action to words. "And, we're done. Time to close the incision."

She began sewing the different layers, working her way out of the dog's side.

"Where've you been today? Doctor Todd asked. "Do anything interesting??

"I went down to the store. Mrs. Molly is making a new dress. It is so pretty. I want a dress, Dad."

Doctor Tod almost choked. "What did you say, Son?"

"That dress was so pretty. I want one."

Doctor Rose chimed in gently, shooting a warning glance at her husband. "Honey, only girls wear dresses. You're a boy; you have to wear pants and shirt."

"Why? You wear pants and shirts. Why can't I wear a dress?"

"Terry Anderson, " Doctor Tod said sternly, "That is quite enough! Boys do not wear dresses!"

Doctor Rose tied and clipped the last stitch, watching her husband warningly. "Terry, Honey, we're almost done here. Why don't you set the table for us, and I'll fix dinner in a few minutes."

"OK." Terry carefully stepped away from the table, replaced his stool, and removed his gloves and mask. As he headed out the door he heard his dad say, "Where does he get these ideas? My son, in a dress?!"

"That's a legitimate question for an eight-year-old," Dr Rose replied crisply. "Now...." her voice faded away as Terry left the clinic.

When the doctors left the clinic, Terry had set the table. Doctor Rose quickly pulled a roast from the oven, and deftly set the rest of the table. Terry managed to choke down some of his dinner, then came the desert: his birthday cake. He carefully unwrapped his caramels and added them beside his piece of cake. The packages were brought from the living room and laid in the center of the table.

"Which first?" Doctor Rose smiled at him

"Uuh.....This one!" He picked up the smallest package and carefully opened it. "Wow! A real doctor kit! With real scalpels and sutures and hy-po-der-mics and everything!"

"Yep," Doctor Todd said, "Since my son is going to be a doctor, he needs his own instrument set!"

Terry carefully laid the kit aside, and took up the next package. Eagerly, he opened it, disclosing several pair of dress socks. A sense of forboding rose in him as, in quick succession, he opened the rest of his presents. A white shirt with ruffles down the front. ATwo bow ties; one black and one white. A pair of black pants with a black satin stripe down each leg. A matching jacket, with satin lapels.

"Thank you," he said politely

Doctor Todd was grinning so big his face was almost split. "Your first tuxedo, just like mine," he said proudly. "Go try it on! Let's see how it fits!"

Ever the dutiful son, he hugged each parent then modeled the tux. Then he hung it in the closet, beside his other suits. All just like Daddy's.

The evening passed in it's usual grey blur. He changed into his pajamas that looked like clinic scrubs, and tried to sleep. He clutched his new doctor kit tightly, and cried. Out in the clinic the dog barked; he was homesick and lonesome, and brodcast his displeasure to ther world.

Terry would almost drift off to sleep; the dog would howl; he'd awake to the haunting question, "Why weren't guys allowed nice clothes?" He'd cry a little more, almost drift to sleep, then the dog would howl. Finally, he decided to keep the dog company.

The dog was happy to see him, pawing at his kennle in greeting. An empty water pan clattered over the bottom of the cage. "Yea, Boy," Terry whispered, reaching into the kennle. "Let me get you something to drink." He grabbed the pan and went into the operating room. The instruments were laid out neatly, covered with a clean towel.. Terry filled the bowl, and returned to the dog's kennle. An idea was beginning to form in his mind. He hurried back into the operating room.

****************************************************************

The next morning, Doctor Tod noticed the clinic was open and went to invstigate. "Terry!" he exclaimed, "What are you doing here?" Terry was lying on his side, his back to the door, covered with his favorite blanket.

Sleepy eyelids filcked open, and he smiled. "Hi, Daddy." He sat up, his back still to the door. "Now can I?" he asked

"Can you what?" Doctor Tod, puzzled, walked around the table.

"Now can I have a dress?

The blanket fell away, revealing a clumsy bandage between the boy's legs. Doctor Tod's eyes flicked from the bandage to the cluttered instrument stand beside the table, to the specimen in a small laboratory jar. His face became pale, and he staggered as all the little items added up. A roaring came to his ears, and the room seemed to tilt. Then everything went dark.

"Daddy? What's wrong?"

  

finis

 

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