Page 33 of Lace

“Great for you, I guess. Not the same thing as choosing Business over music. Playing the piano doesn’t pay.”

“So?” Resuming his work on the garment, Mitchell went on without looking up. “Why spend your life doing what you hate and ignoring what you love just because someone else thinks it’s better for you in the long run? Are they in your skin? Do they know? I don’t think so. You have to tell yourself you don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks. You have to say it over and over again until you believe it.”

“You think I haven’t been saying it over and over in my head for my whole life?” Caleb asked. “He’s my uncle. The only family I have, and so yeah—I care what he thinks. And he thinks I’m a freak. Someone he can never understand.” He sighed and tried to temper his voice. None of this was Mitchell’s fault, or even his problem. “At least I can try.”

“Has he actually said he thinks you’re a freak?”

Caleb shook his head. “But look at him. He’s a jock. The guy would wear track pants to work… in fact, I think he used to.”

Mitchell turned the jacket over, inspecting his own work and motioned Caleb to his feet as he stood. “But he doesn’t now…”

“Well, no. Not in the past little while.”

“Why?”

“How the hell should I know?”

“Ask.”

“Why?”

“Because maybe…” Mitchel held the jacket up to Caleb’s body, speaking through the pins in his mouth. “You ever think he looks at you and thinks maybe there’s something to that whole dress-for-success thing? Maybe he’s paying more attention than you think. Maybe, and this is just a wild, out-there theory”—he waved his hands around his head and made a face— “but just maybe he’s trying to understand things a little more from your perspective. Trying to meet you somewhere closer to your side of the field.”

“What do you mean?”

Michel tucked and pinned for a few minutes without responding, then he held the coat out, indicating Caleb should put it on. “Put your arms in.” He spread the coat.

Reluctant, Caleb pushed his arms down the tight sleeves and Mitchell rested the jacket on his shoulders. He tried to face the mirror, but Mitchell turned him away. “Not yet.” He busied himself buttoning up the slick silver fasteners and wrapping the belt securely around Caleb’s waist.

“There.” Mitchell stood back and examined the effect, turning Caleb to let him look in the mirror. “Tell me again how important it is to hide this”—he waved his hands up and down to indicate Caleb’s appearance— “in the hopes that a few intolerant pricks will ever understand and accept who you are? While you hide behind the idea you need some sort of approval from an uncle you haven’t even tried to talk honestly with, the one person who has never asked you to hide anything is slipping through your fingers. Why are you letting him go?”

Caleb ran shaking hands over the coat, letting his fingers linger on the delicate lace trimmings and trace the stiff wool pleats. He could deny what he saw in the mirror, what he felt, but he knew Mitchell wouldn’t believe a word he said. Yes, he loved the coat in all its gender-blurring glory. He wanted it. Hewanted to be the guy who could walk down the street in it and not care what anyone thought.

He wanted his uncle to accept that, even though he knew the man would never really understand it.

“You think I would subject Levi to this?”

“You’re a fucking ass, Caleb,” Mitchell said in disgust. “You have so little faith in him, it kind of makes me wonder why we’re friends. You don’t get to decide what hesubjectshimself to. He’s a grown man, and he’s chosen you. Except you keep pushing him away, and one of these times, he’s not going to come back.”

Caleb stared at the coat in the mirror. “What if?—?”

“You’re going to live your life on what ifs?” Mitchell held up one of his less frilly skirts and positioned it against Caleb’s waist. “What if you spend your entire life waiting for your uncle to see you? What if you give up the one man who’s begging to have all of you while you wait for something that is never going to happen?”

“He might not actually want all this, once he sees. Once he knows what’s really tucked away in my closet.”

“Open your eyes, Caleb. You spend so much time inside your own head, you’re not seeing what’s right in front of you. You’re not seeing him.”

For a long time, they remained silent, staring into the mirror. Finally, Caleb lifted his gaze.

“Are you done the rest of the pieces?”

Mitchell grinned a grin that made even his oddly blue-contact-covered eyes light up. “You mean the skirt? Oh yeah.” He scurried into his bedroom and came back with the sumptuous garment. “Get that coat off.” He waved his hand in the air, then focused on carefully taking the skirt off the hanger. “All finished except for the fitting.”

Caleb glanced up to meet Mitchell’s gaze in the mirror. “The fitting?”

“Well, duh. You didn’t think I was going to fit it to anyone else, did you? Right now, the only models I have are those great lummox basketball players. No way is one of them wearing this. Not until I have no other choice and it’s time someone has to wear it out onto the runway.” He held it up to Caleb and tilted his head. “Might be a little long. I thought you were taller.”

Caleb took the skirt and pinned it against his hips. “I can be.”

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