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Ambassador's Daughter 1 Melvin Carter Wellington, III was the name on my original birth certificate. My father, M. Carter Wellington Junior, was a Foreign Service Officer. He always went by Carter and I grew up as Mel. His assignments rotated between the State Department headquarters in Washington DC and a number of foreign embassies. The family estate, which father inherited from his father, is in the horse country of northern Virginia. When we were in the USA, I attended Hunt Club Day School, a private preparatory school not far from our estate. When living abroad, I attended the American schools where most expatriate kids went. By the time I was fourteen I had lived in Japan, Korea and Malaysia. Father was always busy with his work, spending his days at the embassy and attending various diplomatic functions most evenings. He was somewhat cold and aloof, so I was largely raised by my mother. Given the frequency with which father was reassigned, I never had an opportunity to make many lasting friendships with kids my own age. I can honestly say mother was my best friend. She was kind, loving and easy going. She gave me a great deal of freedom to explore and discover the things that interested me. My life turned upside down the day she was killed in an automobile accident. They say it was her own fault; that she was distracted and crossed over the center line into an oncoming truck. Thankfully no one else was injured, and she was killed instantly without any suffering. I guess the suffering is left to those who survived her. Father and I both realized that his career didn't allow time to raise a child. After a long discussion we agreed that it would be best for us both if I attended a boarding school. He selected an all male school called Parkworth Military Academy. I had just turned fourteen when I was enrolled at Parkworth. Parkworth is organized into Companies, and I was assigned to Company C. Every company has about the same proportion of boys from each of grades six through twelve. Each company has its own barracks. I think companies at Parkworth are analogous to fraternities at a college or university. The culture at Parkworth is one of competition between companies. Within the company there was a lot of peer pressure to conform and to work to achieve the goals of the team, rather than to pursue individual goals. Older members of the company looked after and trained the younger boys. As a result, the school was largely self- governing, freeing the faculty and administration to focus on the educational mission while the students themselves dealt with behavioral and discipline issues. To say that Parkworth was a cultural shock for me would be an understatement. I was accustomed to being with my loving and nurturing mother. Suddenly mother was replaced by a surly seventeen year old cadet sergeant who seemed to delight in humiliating me and the other younger boys. That I was physically small and not very athletic made matters even worse. Many were the nights when I cried myself to sleep in the barracks of Company C. Nearly all of the boys at Parkworth came from circumstances similar to my own. They were children of the affluent, but children who for one reason or another didn't quite fit into their parent's plans. Many of their parents were divorced. A few of the boys had single parents like me. Some had disciplinary or emotional issues and were sent to Parkworth as a kind of last resort after being expelled from one or more other schools. In a sense we were all in the same boat. I genuinely hated Parkworth. I hated having to wear army uniforms and neckties; hated having to stand for inspections and being berated because my shoes and brass buttons weren't polished to someone's satisfaction; hated having to obey orders from a boy not much older than myself. I hated it, but I survived two years there. I had no choice really. Father was overseas. There was no one at the family estate but the caretaker. I had just turned sixteen and was on leave for the week between Christmas and New Years. Normally I remained at Parkworth during holidays and summer vacations but this time Father would be back in Washington, and I was invited home! I flew to DC and took the commuter train into suburban Virginia. I stepped off the platform wearing my dress uniform and carrying a small suitcase. I spotted father right away. He is about six foot four and easy to pick out in a crowd. I must have gotten my mother's genes since I'm only five foot six, and haven't grown much in the past year. I ran up to his side. I wanted to hug him; to be hugged by him, but I knew that he wasn't comfortable with that kind of intimacy. He extended his hand and I shook it. "Hello father, it's great to see you again." "Hi Mel. You look good. You wear that uniform well son." "I get lots of practice father. They don't allow us to ever be out of uniform at Parkworth. We even have uniform pajamas and underwear." I hadn't noticed at first but there was a woman at father's side who seemed to be with him. She was quite tall and dressed in black. Her hair was black, her complexion almost ghostly white and her lips a vivid red. She looked to be perhaps ten years younger than father, who was 49. "Mel, I want you to meet someone very special. This is Marta, Marta Schwartz-Levy. Marta this is my son Mel." The woman in black extended her hand and I shook it. "It's nice to meet you Marta." She squeezed my hand strongly; almost painfully. "It is nice meeting you as well Melvin. Carter has told me so much about you. I'm pleased we finally meet." Marta spoke with what sounded to me like a German accent. She finally let go of my hand which hurt a bit from her strong grip. Father turned to me and said, "Let's go home Mel. It's been a long time since you've been back to Wellington Farms. I'm sure you look forward to spending a few days there again." "Yes father, I sure do look forward to spending time with you again. It's so nice to get away from Parkworth, even if only for a week." The three of us walked to father's BMW. The woman named Marta got in the front passenger seat while father drove and I tossed my suitcase beside me in the back seat. We drove the five miles to the estate in silence. I was naturally curious about this Marta person and what she was doing here. She might have been a servant, or a diplomat. I wanted to ask, but knowing father I was sure I he would tell me what I needed to know in due course. Upon arrival at the estate I took my suitcase up to my old room. It looked exactly the same as when I last was there over two years earlier. My old 'civilian' clothes were still in my closet though I was pretty sure they would no longer fit. I decided to keep wearing my dress military uniform for the time being. I went back downstairs and found father and Marta in the library having a glass of wine. Father looked up. "Come here Mel. Sit down. Pour yourself a glass of wine." "Father, I'm only sixteen. I don't think I'm supposed to drink alcohol yet." "It's ok Mel. You're with your parents. You may have one glass." It took a while for what he said to register. He said I was with my parents, plural not singular. I looked at father. I looked at Marta. "Parent sssss?" "Yes Mel, Marta and I are married. Marta is your new step mother." I was in shock. This was totally unexpected. A tear ran down my cheek. Then Marta stood up and walked to face me. I rose as well. She wrapped her arms around me and gave me a hug; a real hug from a real person. I hugged her back. Neither of us spoke. But I felt her warmth; I felt what I thought was her affection, which was something I had longed for ever since mother was killed. Finally breaking our embrace I looked up into her eyes and said "Um ... congratulations Marta, and father. I ... I'm very happy for you both." Father looked at his watch. "I've got to run. There is a reception tonight at the Chilean embassy. Sorry I can't stay Mel, but this will give you and Marta a little time to get to know each other better." Father left the two of us alone in the library. "So, like when did you and father get married Marta?" "I expected military school would have taught you not to be so insolent Melvin." "What do you mean Marta?" "Melvin, you are a boy, and I'm an adult. I am also your father's wife. You need to show me some respect." "I didn't mean to be disrespectful. Did I say something wrong Marta?" "Melvin, my name is Marta Schwartz-Levy. I know that is a bit of a mouthful, so you may just call me Miss Schwartz." "Yes Miss Schwartz, I'm sorry. I'll try to remember to be more respectful in the future." "Good boy Melvin." "Mar ... Miss Schwartz; my name is Mel, not Melvin." "I'm quite certain your name is Melvin." "Yes my legal name is Melvin, the same as father. But I've always gone by Mel, and of course everyone calls him Carter." "So you dislike the name Melvin?" "Yes Miss, I really never liked being called that." "Very well, I will no longer call you by your given name of Melvin if that is your wish." "Thanks Miss Schwartz. That sure is my wish." "So you prefer that I call you by another name, instead of the name your mother and father gave you?" "Yes Miss, like I said." "You do realize that while you seem to dislike the name Melvin, the new name I select for you could be worse?" "Miss Schwartz, I really really don't want to be called Melvin anymore." "Very well my dear. I shall have to come up with a new name for you. I suppose I should stick with names beginning with the letter M, so as to not make obsolete any monogrammed apparel you might have." "Yes Miss, Melvin and Mel both start with the letter M." "Hum. Mel. Melody? Melvina? Melissa? Yes Melissa seems perfect for a little boy like you. Henceforth I shall call you Melissa." "No Miss. That's not what I want to be called. That's even worse than Melvin." "Melissa, did I not just tell you that the name I select for you might be something you feel is worse than Melvin?" "Yes Miss you did say that." "And you also said that you 'really really' didn't want to be called Melvin." "Yes Miss I guess I sort of said that too." "Well then Melissa, it seems to me that there is no point in discussing this any further. You begged me to not call you Melvin. While I personally think Melvin is a perfectly nice name for a little boy like you, I am willing to compromise and not call you that anymore. So, from now on, you will answer to the name Melissa, is that understood?" I cringed when she called me a little boy. I'm fucking sixteen years old! "But Miss Schwartz, Melissa is a girl's name." "I think Melissa is a perfectly lovely name that can be used by either gender. It is a very popular boy's name in Switzerland. True, I suppose here there are a lot more girls with that name than boys, but especially for an effeminate little boy like you Melissa seems most appropriate." I lost it. I started to cry. She seemed so logical that I had no counter argument. It was like she was twisting things around. She made it sound like it was my idea to be called Melissa. And so it started. I had a new step-mother who I must call Miss Schwartz. And she had a new step-son who she insisted on calling Melissa. After finishing my glass of wine I began to feel a little more relaxed. Marta led me to the kitchen where I was to assist her in preparing a light meal for the two of us. She insisted I put on an apron to protect my military school uniform. The apron was pink with ruffles and very girly in style, but at least it protected my uniform from being soiled. I set the long dining room table for two and carried the dishes from the kitchen. She had a second glass of wine, while I was given a glass of milk. We began to eat. "So tell me Melissa, how are you enjoying military school?" "I hate it Miss Schwartz. It's horrid. I have to wear these silly military uniforms all the time, and there are all these rules you have to follow and if you don't obey then you get punishments." "It sounds to me like a well disciplined environment, which seems ideal for a little boy like you Melissa." "Yes I guess it has its good points and all, and the classroom stuff is really pretty good. But I just hate having to live in a barracks with like 20 other boys. You don't have any privacy at all and there is all this harassment from the older boys. I have seriously thought about running away on more than one occasion Miss Schwartz." "Why didn't you run away then Melissa?" "Where would I go Miss? I was only 14 when I enrolled at Parkworth. Father was in Asia. I didn't have any money and was too young to get a job." "Melissa, if given a choice, would you return to Parkworth after the holidays?" "You mean if I had a choice of going back to Parkworth or staying here Miss?" "Yes Melissa, if you had that choice what would you do?" "That's a no brainer Miss Schwartz. If I had a choice I would never set foot in that god awful place again for the rest of my life." "Obviously you need to continue your education Melissa. Your father expects you to follow his footsteps into the diplomatic corps. You can't just drop out of school. If you don't go back to Parkworth, I'll need to make other arrangements for your continuing education." "Anything would be better than Parkworth Miss. I would even rather go to a public school than have to go back to that place." "Well I certainly would never allow a Wellington to attend a common public school, what with the rift raft that entails." "I went to Hunt Club Day School if third and fourth grade Miss. That was before father took us to Korea. I could maybe go back there? There aren't any poor kids at Hunt Club Miss Schwartz. It's mostly kids like me." "Is that a co-educational school Melissa?" "Yes Miss its boys and girls." "I really don't think that would be a good idea for a little boy like you. The last thing this family needs is some sordid sexual scandal where you get some girl pregnant or get involved in a homosexual relationship." "I'm not a homo Miss Schwartz. I know there are a few boys at Parkworth like that, but I never did anything sexual with another boy; never." "You just seem so immature to be thrown into a coeducational school at this stage in your life Melissa. I really think sending you back to Parkworth will be the best course of action." "Oh please Miss Schwartz, anything but that." "I don't see any good alternatives Melissa ... unless I was to home school you." "Home school? Oh Yes Miss Schwartz, that sounds wonderful. You mean I could live here at the family estate and go to school right here?" "Yes I suppose that's a possibility, but it would be a big imposition on my schedule. Although with your father's busy calendar, I might be able to make time for it. He spends so much time traveling for the State Department and entertaining foreign dignitaries that I do seem to have a fair amount of free time. I suppose spending my spare time helping Carter's little boy prepare for the future is not such a bad idea." When we finished supper I carried all the dishes back to the kitchen and Marta showed me how to load and run the dishwasher. Then she had me clean up the kitchen and wipe off the countertops. I was still wearing the frilly pink apron that I had put on before dinner. I turned to her. "May I take the apron off now Miss?" "You look so cute in pink Melissa and besides it helps cover up that silly looking army uniform. Leave your apron on until bedtime. And tomorrow wear something besides that horrid military uniform." "I don't really have any other stuff that fits me Miss. It's been two years since I've gotten any new clothes other than the school uniforms." "We shall have to remedy that tomorrow then Melissa. It's high time you started wearing something nice and fashionable instead of those drab army clothes." "That would be wonderful Miss Schwartz. I'd love to wear anything but my military uniforms." "We can pick up a few of the basics in town tomorrow, but I'll want to take you to New York to get the bulk of your new wardrobe. You may join me in the library now." I followed Marta into the library. She sat on the leather couch and motioned me to sit beside her. She reached over and ran her fingers through my buzz cut hair. "Why is your hair so dreadfully short Melissa?" "That's the rule at Parkworth Miss. No long hair allowed." "You will certainly not be subjected to such rules in my home school. You may grow your hair as long as your heart desires." "Really Miss? That's great. I hate how I look with this buzz cut. I would love to have long hair." "Of course it will take months and months for your own hair to grow out. I'm afraid you will have live with short hair for some time to come. Unless ..." "Unless what Miss?" "I could buy you a wig. It would just be something to wear until your own hair grows out." "A wig? So I could have hair like down to my shoulders if I wanted? I could wear a pony tail?" "Yes dear. Wigs come in all sorts of colors and lengths. If you really want hair down to your shoulders I'm sure we can find a pretty wig to give you that look." "That would be wild Miss Schwartz. I always wanted long hair, but father frowned on it, and of course Parkworth didn't allow it either. But what will father say if I show up with long hair? I bet he wouldn't be pleased about that Miss." "Just let me deal with your father. If I tell him how much you want long hair and how it will improve your looks I'm sure he will come around. Now be a dear and bring me my purse. I left it in the kitchen." I trotted back to the kitchen and returned with her purse. My apron, which was made of a stiff nylon fabric, seemed to rustle as I walked. I handed Marta her purse and sat back on the couch. She took out a package of cigarettes and gold lighter. The cigarettes were long and slender. The package said Eve 120 Menthols. "Would you like a cigarette Melissa?" "I ... I don't smoke Miss. Smoking is against the rules at Parkworth." "I'm sure that is a rule you boys must have broken on occasion." "Well yes Miss some of the older boys do sneak a smoke now and then. I tried it a couple of times but it kind of made me cough." She lit her cigarette, leaving the package and lighter on the coffee table in front of the couch. She took a drag, inhaled the smoke and then exhaled it. Holding the cigarette between two fingers she reached over in front of my face. I could see that the filter tip of the cigarette was red from her lipstick. "Take a drag Melissa. I'm sure you'll find it to be much milder than the things boys normally smoke." She held the cigarette to my lips and I drew in a mouthful of smoke. It did seem a lot milder than the unfiltered cigarettes I had tried at Parkworth. I drew the menthol flavored smoke into my lungs. It hurt but I managed not to embarrass myself by coughing. "How was that?" "You're right Miss. It seems a lot milder than what I tried before. And I kind of like the menthol taste. But everyone says that smoking is really bad for your health, so I probably shouldn't do it." "Smoking is like most things in life. There are both good and bad aspects to it. Most people find that smoking helps them to relax, and it also is a good dietary aid since it suppresses your appetite. Of course like anything else it should be done in moderation. Smoking three packs a day will most likely send you to an early grave, but I limit myself to two cigarettes a day. Moderation is the key Melissa. I will be happy to permit you to smoke if you wish, but only in moderation and only under my supervision." "Could I ... could I please try one Miss Schwartz." "Yes of course you may dear." I took one of the long slender cigarettes out of her package and put it between my lips. Then I reached for the lighter. "No, no Melissa. You must never let a cigarette dangle from your lips like that. Always hold it between your fingers both when lighting it and when smoking." "Yes Miss. Sorry, I didn't know." I held the cigarette with my left hand and the lighter with my right hand. I lit it and then took the cigarette out of my mouth as I placed the lighter back on the coffee table. "That's much better dear. It looks like part of your home schooling curricula will need to address etiquette and manners. That seems to be something your military school neglected." I managed to smoke most of the cigarette without coughing. I could feel a sort of buzz which I attributed to the nicotine in the smoke. It was not unpleasant. As I sat next to Marta having what I considered to be a very adult conversation, I felt happy for the first time in a long time. Smoking seemed like such a grown up thing to do. It made me feel sophisticated and worldly. I was in bed and sound asleep before father got home. The next morning Marta woke me at 7 am. "It's time to get up. We have a busy day ahead of us. You go take a shower and I'll pick out something for you to wear today." As I was in the bathroom Marta went through my closet. She picked out a couple of shirts and pants for me to try, but they were all too small and no longer fit me. She shrugged her shoulders. "Wear your tan military trousers and I'll lend you one of my shirts." "Thanks Miss Schwartz. I'm glad I can wear something other than my military uniforms for a change." The shirt she gave me was actually a woman's blouse. It was off white and made of a kind of silky fabric. The buttons were on the opposite side so it seemed awkward putting it on, but the fit was ok. It was pretty loose in the chest but snug in the waist. We went down to the kitchen. A pot of coffee was brewing. I always liked the aroma of coffee. Marta poured two cups handing me one. "How do you take your coffee Melissa?" "I really don't drink coffee Miss Schwartz. Only the faculty and staff could have coffee at my school." "We're not at that school anymore. Today is your first day at your new school. Students at the Schwartz-Levy academy are allowed to do grownup things like drink coffee and smoke." I smiled. Marta was so hip compared to the teachers at Parkworth. She really did treat me more like an adult. I stood facing her and wrapped my arms around her slender waist giving her a hug. "Thank you Miss Schwartz. I just know I'll love being a student at your academy." My hug was reciprocated. After two years of no intimate contact with other people it felt so good. She made me feel wanted. She made me feel loved. I started to cry tears of joy. She bent down and kissed me on the lips. After her kiss I licked my lips and I could taste her lipstick. She added cream to my cup of coffee but no sugar. I sipped the flavorful cup of hot coffee. We skipped breakfast and Marta drove the minivan to a regional shopping mall about a half hour away from the estate. Our first stop was a wig store. "Are you really going to get me a wig Miss Schwartz?" "Yes of course my dear. We discussed that last night. That way you don't have to wait a year to enjoy long hair. Your natural hair is a rather mousey brown. But with your blue eyes, I think blond will be your best color." "I hadn't really thought about it Miss. I'll go with blond if you think that's best." She wound up buying me a blond wig with shoulder length hair. The hair was fairly straight and curled up slightly at the ends. The cap of the wig fit tightly. I tried tossing and turning my head from side to side but the wig stayed in place. With peripheral vision I could see long blond hair framing both sides of my face. I could feel my new hair brushing my shoulders when I moved my head. It took some getting used to but I rather liked both the look and the feel of wearing long hair. As I looked in the mirror I turned to Marta. "I almost look like a girl in this hair Miss Schwartz." "Yes you do Melissa. With a little jewelry and makeup you could easily be mistaken for a girl. Wouldn't that be fun?" "I guess it would be kind of like wearing a disguise or a costume. I could be like some of the spies that are always at our embassies." "If you like, I can get you some jewelry and makeup. Then we can have such fun seeing if we can fool people into thinking you are a girl instead of a boy." "Seriously Miss? You'd really let me disguise myself that way?" "Yes dear, if that's what you want I'll be more than happy to accommodate you." "It does sound like fun Miss. Sure why not? I don't know anything about makeup and jewelry but if you would help me with that stuff I think it would be a blast to walk around here and fool people into thinking I'm a girl. You already gave me a girl sounding name. With the wig and a few other things I could really look the part couldn't I Miss?" Still wearing my wig, my military pants and Miss Schwartz's blouse we stopped next at a jewelry boutique. She picked out two bracelets, two finger rings and a necklace for me. Everything had a silver finish and seemed to go well together. "You'll need earrings to complete the look." "Will you please pick some out for me Miss Schwartz? I wouldn't know what to choose." She took a card which had a pair of silver ball style earrings on it and held it up to my left ear. She did the same with a pair of fairly large hoop style. "These should do nicely Melissa." Turning to the sales clerk she said, "She'll take these two pair. You will need to pierce her." I was confused. I was sure I heard Marta calling me a 'she', but then I figured that was just part of our game; a way of helping me with my disguise. I was directed to sit in a chair and in a matter of minutes my ears were double pierced. The ball studs were put in the upper holes and the hoops in the lower holes. It hurt a little when the clerk pierced me but I didn't cry or anything. When we left the store I was very aware of the added weight mounted in my ears. Marta led me to the food court. She ordered two coffees. We sat and sipped our coffees. She seemed to be inspecting me, looking at my wig and jewelry. She took my left hand into her own. I could see the two bracelets and a finger ring sparkling in the light of the food court. "Your nails are a mess Melissa. I must get you a manicure." "I've never had a manicure Miss. What's it like?" "I'm sure you will enjoy being pampered. Manicures are a lovely indulgence. Turn you head toward me please." I turned to face her. She reached into her purse and took out a tube of lipstick. "Pucker your lips." I did as instructed and she applied a thick coat of very red lipstick. "That's much better Melissa. I doubt if anyone will mistake you for a boy now, though we must get rid of those ugly trousers and army shoes." "Yes Miss, I was hoping I could get some new jeans." "Yes you'll need jeans for some of the more casual occasions, but you also need some dressier pants. And you will have to get some blouses of your own since I can't be lending you mine all the time." "Yes Miss I need just about everything in the way of clothes including socks and underpants." We spent the better part of the day shopping. I hadn't even set foot in a clothing store for two years. It seemed like a lot of the things she bought me were more feminine styles, but I figured anything was better than wearing those damn military uniforms again. At one point I was loaded with shopping bags and she gave me the keys to the car so I could unload and then come back for more. Our last stop of the day was a nail salon. I got my very first manicure. My nails were pretty short and uneven but the nail tech did what she could with what she had to work with. When we left the salon my nails were nice and smooth and even and were covered in two coats of an almost clear nail polish, though when I held them to the light I could see a hint of pink color in the polish. Marta got a phone call as we were driving back to the estate. I only heard one side of the conversation so it didn't make much sense to me but she seemed a little upset. "Is there something wrong Miss Schwartz?" "That was your father. There is some crisis in the Middle East that he has to deal with. He is flying there tonight and doesn't know how long he will need to stay but he said it could be months before he can get back to Washington." "Gosh that's a shame Miss. I barely got to see him, and well you two being newlyweds and all, it doesn't seem fair to you either. Maybe we can fly over there and join him?" "I'm afraid that's impossible. They have already evacuated all the embassy staff and dependents. You and I are just going to have to fend for ourselves for a while dear. Do you think you can manage with just your mean old step mother to look after you?" I laughed. "Yes Miss Schwartz, I'm sure I'll be fine. We seem to get along good and I really like being with you. Today was especially fun what with the new clothes and jewelry you bought me and letting me disguise myself as a girl and all." "It won't be all fun and games Melissa. Tomorrow morning school will be in session and you will find that I can be a rather stern taskmaster." "I bet you're as good a teacher as you are a friend Miss Schwartz. I'm looking forward to being your student." By the time we arrived home my stomach was growling. I hadn't had anything but a couple cups of coffee all day. Marta helped carry the packages up to my room. She began cleaning out my closet and chest of drawers. Everything went into a big pile on the floor. "Tomorrow we can donate your old things to a charity shop. Some needy little boys will enjoy the clothes you have outgrown." "That's a wonderful idea Miss. It's good to share with others; especially poor kids who can't afford to buy nice things like we did today." "Once you've put away and hung up your new things please change clothes. You should add what you have on to the pile on the floor and put my blouse in the laundry hamper. Since your father won't be joining us we can dine casually tonight. Wear the tan skinny jeans, the cream colored blouse and the tan loafers. When you are dressed join me in the library." "Yes Miss. Thanks again for picking out all the nice things I got today. I just hope everything fits me ok." I took all my clothes off, putting her blouse in the laundry basket and everything else on top of the pile of old clothes on the floor. As I looked at the pile of discards I smiled. The pile included the three military school uniforms I had brought home with me. Tomorrow they would be gone for good, and I knew that I would never have to go back to Parkworth. I sat on my bed and started to get dressed. I opened a package of new underpants. They were made of a white silky stretch material and were not at all like the olive drab cotton jockey shorts I had been wearing the past two years. There was no flap built into them and I realized I would have to pull them down to pee. I considered that a shortcoming, but I liked the feel of the fabric against my skin. Then I got out a new pair of socks. They were almost flesh toned and made of a stretchy nylon fabric. They were quite a bit longer than my old socks and came up almost to my knees. Next I started to pull on my new tan jeans. Unlike any denim I had worn before, the fabric in these was stretchy. The legs were cut very small which I guess was why Marta had called them skinny jeans. I managed to get them on, but just barely. They were skin tight. I put on my cream colored shirt. It buttoned backwards just like the blouse Marta lent me. It fit but was pretty tight around my waist. I decided it was a good thing I hadn't eaten that day or it might have been too tight to button. I slipped on my new tan loafers next. They had an unusually thick block heel which I figured was at least two inches tall. But that was ok since I'm so short that a little added height is a good thing. I noticed how the color of my new shoes tied in to the color of my jeans and even my shirt. I realized that my knowledge of clothes and what goes with what was pretty limited and that I had a lot to learn about how to wear normal clothes instead of military uniforms. After dressing I checked myself in the full length mirror on my closet door. I was a bit startled at first impressions. Having worn my wig all day I had almost forgotten about it. Seeing my reflection now I really did look like a girl. I tossed my head from side to side watching my long hair brush against my shoulders as my jewelry sparkled. I could still see a hint of the lipstick Marta had put on me at the mall, but most of it seemed to have worn off. I walked into the library. The grandfather clock just struck six. Marta was sitting in the leather chair holding a glass of wine. "Come and join me Melissa. Would you like a glass of wine?" I sat on the end of the couch nearest Marta's chair. There was an open bottle of wine and an empty glass on the coffee table. I was so hungry that I was ready to put just about anything into my stomach. "Thank you Miss Schwartz. A glass of wine would be lovely." I poured myself a full glass. Unlike the white wine I had drunk with father, this was red. "This tastes different than the wine we had before Miss Schwartz." "Yes Melissa it's much more complex and full bodied that the simple white wines your father prefers. Read the label on the wine bottle. You need to start to learn about the finer things in life, including wines." "I don't recognize most of the words Miss. I think it might be French." "Yes dear it is a wine from France. A year from now I'm sure you will be able to read and properly pronounce everything on that label." "Are you saying that I'll be studying French at home school Miss Schwartz?" "Yes Melissa, your very first class tomorrow morning will be Beginning French." "I've never done any foreign languages before Miss. At Parkworth it was mostly math and science and military history." "I'll be providing you with a much more liberal education than you are accustomed to." "What else will I study besides French?" "I have the list here. You will be studying art history, music, poetry, dance, home economics and etiquette. And there will be a course in fashions, clothing and textiles." "Wow those are like totally different from the kind of stuff I'm used to taking." "Indeed. I will be instructing you in French, art history, etiquette, home economics and poetry. Of course a simple immigrant like me isn't qualified in all subjects. You will receive your music and dance lessons from other teachers. Your clothing course will be at the New York School of Design." "You mean I have to go to New York City to take one of my classes?" "Yes dear, I have arranged a private class for you at NYSD. It will be an all day class every Friday. I have an apartment in Manhattan. We'll go together on the train. While you are in class I can shop and attend to financial matters. In the evening we'll be able to see plays and concerts and have all sorts of fun." "That sounds wonderful Miss. I can only remember being in New York once when I was quite young. It seemed like such an exciting place. I would love to go there again with you. You said you were an immigrant Miss. I noticed your accent the first time we met. Is it German?" "I'm from Switzerland. My first language is a Swiss dialect of German, though I also speak French, Italian, and of course a little English." Marta opened her purse and took out her cigarettes and lighter. She took a cigarette for her self and handed me the pack. I took one and held it between my fingers. She lit it for me before lighting her own. I watched as she smoked. I tried to imitate the way she held her cigarette, the way she inhaled and exhaled the smoke. I noticed there was red lipstick on the tip of her cigarette. I looked at my own and there was no sign of lipstick. "Miss Schwartz, do you remember today at the mall when you put lipstick on me?" "Yes of course I remember. We wanted to disguise you so that people would think you were a girl." "Yes Miss. Do you think ... could you maybe put lipstick on me again please?" "But Melissa, there is no one here but you and me. We both know that you're a little boy, not a girl. What would be the point of you wearing lipstick at home?" "I don't know Miss. I just ... when I looked at the tip of your cigarette it had lipstick on it, and mine didn't. I just thought ... " "Are you saying you like wearing lipstick Melissa?" "Yes Miss. I mean you wear lipstick, and I sort of think of you as my role model so I want to be more like you. We are sitting here and both drinking wine; both smoking cigarettes. Shouldn't we both be wearing lipstick too Miss?" "Oh you darling boy. We have only known each other for such a short time yet I feel so close to you. Of course you may wear lipstick. You may wear makeup and jewelry all the time if that pleases you. You can wear it not as a disguise but simply because you want to wear it; because it makes you feel good to wear it. Tomorrow, after school we will buy you your very own makeup. How does that sound?" "That sounds wonderful Miss Schwartz. Thank you for being so understanding." We sat and sipped our wine and smoked our cigarettes. Marta was right about smoking. It did seem to relax me, though the wine may have been a factor too. And I forgot all about how hungry I had been. She poured herself a second glass of wine. "May I please have another glass as well Miss?" "You may, but two is your limit. Remember, moderation." I filled my glass which emptied the bottle. I made note of the fact that a wine bottle holds four glasses. "Could I have a second cigarette please Miss Schwartz?" "Yes you may, but only one more." "Thank you very much Miss. I rather like smoking and when I inhale now it doesn't hurt like it did at first." After two cigarettes and two glasses of wine on an empty stomach I was pretty light headed. I followed Marta to the kitchen where she instructed me on preparing a salad which we then shared in the dining room. At her direction I served ice water for us both. It wasn't much of a meal compared to how I used to eat, but it seemed enough. After our supper I started a load of our laundry. Marta was helpful in showing me how the machine operated and how much detergent to use etc. Then she watched as I hand washed a couple pair of her bras and panties. She explained that the washing machine would damage delicate fabrics and that in the future I had to hand wash my own new under pants as well as hers. At eight o'clock Marta told me it was my bedtime. I went to my room. I carefully removed my long blond wig and placed it on a wig form. I washed my face and brushed my teeth. I used a solution that came with my earrings to clean my newly pierced earlobes. My new earrings were a lot more visible without the wig. I stood at the mirror admiring them. I felt so lucky that father had married Marta. She was so good to me, letting me do things that father would never approve of. She treated me almost like an adult instead of a child. I knew that I could never love Marta in the same way I loved my real mom, but I felt a special bond growing between us and I hoped Marta felt it as well.