The Mask Briefly Slips
Before Edward could compose himself, Sabrina had already swept up the plaid school uniform and was heading toward the fitting room as though the matter had been settled for him. “Let’s go, sweetie,” she chided, “I know you’re going to make an adorable schoolgirl!” Skye ushered him along from behind with the bobby socks, penny loafers, and a matching plaid grosgrain hair bow in hand. Soon, Edward was eased out of his extravagant apricot and cream party dress amid a soft collapse of organza and petticoat. He felt less like someone being dressed and more like something being meticulously arranged.
A few minutes later, he stood buttoned into the crisp white blouse, very conscious of how cool and silky the fabric felt against his skin. The round Peter Pan collar buttoned neatly at his throat complete with a dainty, girlish red ribbon tie. The plaid jumper’s tidy pleats fell primly over the white bobby socks Skye had cuffed with careful little turns. The shiny black penny loafers on his feet and the grosgrain bow pinned into his curls completed his latest look. Looking in the mirror, Edward saw a prissy little schoolgirl on the first day of term: neat, obedient, and dainty.
Aunt Patricia wholeheartedly approved when she saw him in it. “There,” she said with a satisfied smile, smoothing one of the pleats, “Demure, modest, and sweet. Aunty knew this would suit you.” Her voice was honeyed, but there was an unmistakable note of firmness beneath it, the calm certainty of someone who was used to her wishes being obeyed.
Sabrina let out a delighted laugh. “Oh, he makes the cutest little schoolgirl,” she said proudly.
Skye nodded eagerly, eyes bright with mischief. “A proper little pupil,” she agreed.
It was at this point that Edward began trying to resist in tiny pieces, because resisting the whole thing seemed impossible. He was not even sure how many dresses his aunt had picked out for him by now, only that the pile seemed to have grown into a complete little life chosen for him without his input. It was obvious how intentionally she had selected everything: soft colors, dainty styles, ribbons, frills, shiny shoes, and little bows, all meant to echo the portrait at the center of all this activity. There was nothing accidental about any of it, and she was preparing to spend a small fortune on a complete wardrobe for him! Edward swallowed and lifted his eyes toward Aunt Patricia. “Uh, Aunty,” he began meekly. Then, for several seconds, he said nothing at all as he searched for the right words, painfully aware of the blouse buttoned against his throat, the bow in his hair, and Sabrina and Skye falling politely quiet without looking away.
“Yes, sweetheart?” she prodded cheerfully.
Edward could feel her waiting, and the words in his mind tangled themselves into knots. “Aunty,” he began again in a small voice, “I only mean… I know you’re trying to help, and everything is very… very nice, but maybe…” He faltered, cheeks burning, and his eyes dropped to the bobby socks folded neatly above his penny loafers. The little white cuffs made him feel absurdly juvenile and sissyish. The sight of them made his objection feel smaller, as though the dainty clothes themselves made him sound childish. “Maybe we don’t need quite so much,” he finished weakly, twisting his fingers together at his waist. Even to his own ears it sounded less like an objection than a somewhat whiny apology for having one.
The more he spoke, the more powerless he sounded. Dressed as he was, the whole effect was rather like a fussy little schoolgirl trying to wriggle out of a lesson. Sabrina’s mouth twitched as if she had to keep herself from smiling too broadly. Skye hastily averted her eyes, but Edward could her amused grin.
Aunt Patricia received his objection with a light, almost amused patience, as if he were a stubborn child who didn’t want to eat his vegetables. “Oh, sweetheart, no,” she said at once, with a brisk smile. “Don’t be so silly. Aunty has already thought this through for you.” She made it sound as though he was simply confused, and that his confusion only proved how helpless he was in such matters. “You needn’t trouble yourself over what is needed, or how much is enough. Those are Aunty’s decisions.” Her tone remained gentle, but there was steel underneath, and Edward heard the dismissal as well. His objection had simply been set aside as too childish to matter. Aunt Patricia’s will moved around him smoothly and surely.
Edward opened his mouth to speak again. “But… I mean… I don’t…”
Aunt Patricia gave a small shake of her head, dismissing the attempt before it became another sentence. This time there was a trace of frustration. “No, dear, I’ve already told you. We are not going to turn our lovely shopping trip into a debate.” Her voice remained pleasant, but her decision was absolute. “When Aunty has made up her mind about what is best, the thing you should do is accept it gracefully. Fussing and complaining is unseemly and unworthy of the portrait.” She glanced toward Sabrina and Skye with a composed smile, as though inviting them to witness how patiently she handled him. “I’m sorry he’s grumbling so in front of you girls. He still has much to learn about grace and manners.”
Sabrina gave a soft little laugh and nodded as if Aunt Patricia had said the most sensible thing in the world. Skye giggled and made another ever so slight adjustment to his Peter Pan collar with a quick touch.
Then, for a moment, Aunt Patricia’s tone grew a little sterner and more direct. It was as if a mask had slipped. “Sweetheart, don’t you understand by now that your Aunty is going to make sure you have the prettiest dresses a little girl could ever want?” She looked pointedly at her befrocked nephew, and he wilted under her penetrating gaze, suddenly conscious of how sissyish he felt. “You may have preferences about dresses and skirts and pretty little shoes, of course,” she continued, condescendingly generous, “but preferences are not the same thing as decisions.” Her smile returned, softer and somehow more final. “Today, Aunty is making the decisions. Your job is to stand prettily and be grateful.”
“Now, Edward,” she said, her smile tightening into something that expected obedience, “Won’t you do that for your Aunty?” She reached over and gently but firmly lifted his chin with two fingers until he was looking at her properly. The touch was light, almost tender, but it held him as surely as if she had taken his hands. “Instead of pouting, I think it’s well past time to tell your Aunty exactly how pleased you are with all your lovely new things. We show gratitude after receiving gifts, and we certainly do not embarrass the person who has gone to so much trouble for us.” Her thumb rested for one extra second beneath his chin while he stood bashfully in the darling little uniform, unable to look away. “Tell me clearly, darling, how much you appreciate all your pretty things. No mumbling.”
Edward cringed. Sabrina and Skye were watching this exchange intently, unable to hide their amusement, while Aunt Patricia kept him fixed with her penetrating gaze. The blouse collar felt suddenly tight. He felt small, bashful, and horribly visible, dressed in clothes chosen for him while everyone waited to hear the answer Aunt Patricia had already decided he would give. After a long moment, his shoulders sagged slightly in silent surrender. Aunt Patricia then tapped one of them lightly and smoothed the front of his jumper delicately, claiming the last word without needing to raise her voice.
“Of course, Aunty,” he stammered softly. Blushing, he reluctantly replied, “Thank you… for all my pretty new dresses. I’m very… grateful.” The words came out thin and obedient, and the humiliation of saying them in the prissy little uniform made his face burn all over again. He had meant to push back, but somehow he had ended up showing gratitude while dressed exactly as she wanted him.
Aunt Patricia brightened at once, as if he had finally recited the proper lines. “There now,” she said warmly, patting his cheek lightly. She looked at her sissified nephew with fond authority, “you will find everything is so much easier when you remember to trust your Aunty’s judgment, darling.”
Right away, Edward saw some softness return to her face, but the command behind it had not disappeared. Later, he tried to convince himself that the shift in her tone was only his imagination. Yet standing there in his plaid jumper, with Sabrina and Skye smiling nearby, it felt perfectly clear.