The Weekend Visit, Part 33

Of course, Kate didn’t simply let me put the dress on myself. Instead, she told me to lift my arms, then proceeded to fuss over me every step of the way until the pink, flowery thing was settled on my body. “Cute,” she said, “And it covers your diapers. What do you think, Annie? Is this the one?”

Thinking about outfits in terms of diapers was something I had been doing ever since we arrived. Skirts had to be long enough, and everything else had to be loose enough that it wouldn’t be obvious just how much padding I was wrapped in down there. This dress checked those boxes, and I also didn’t really want to deal with Kate dressing me and undressing me more than she had to. “Like, totally,” I smiled. Once again, stuck wearing my least favorite and least flattering color.

“I agree,” Kate took my hand, “Perfect for a little girl.”

She walked me back to our cousins’ room, where they were quick to agree with her sentiment. In a less patronizing and taunting way, but still. All three of them seemed to think that I was better off looking ‘cute,’ when that was the opposite of the image I normally aimed to convey.

According to Kate, I was basically ready to go. My hair was fine the way it was, and the dress I was wearing didn’t really call for any accessories. Ever the thoughtful sister, Kate mentioned that she didn’t want me to be bored while they worked on their own outfits for the evening. She walked me over to the desk and gave me a notebook and a variety of colored pens that Luna said I was welcome to use. “I know you love doodling whenever you’re sitting around in class or whatever,” she lied, “We’ll probably be a little while.”

In reality, I would be reading a book, or scrolling on my phone, or doing pretty much anything but drawing. I was painfully bad at it. Though Kate had never really seen me do anything artsy, obviously the fact that I never really attempted to do so was enough for her to assume that giving me pen and paper would lead to interesting results.

My new spot also meant I was mostly facing away from the three of them while they bonded over everything from dresses to potential hairstyles. Though I hadn’t particularly enjoyed being the center of attention for my own ‘fashion show’ the other day, the whole point of this trip was to get to know our cousins that we hadn’t seen in years. Kate was thoroughly succeeding in that regard, while I was the odd girl out thanks to how she had set me up. Instead of being the knowledgeable older cousin who was actually quite adept at all that stuff due to how much experience I had enhancing my own appearance, I was the little sister who both literally and figuratively needed my hand held for pretty much everything.

I wasn’t sure what Kate expected of me in terms of the materials in front of me, but she probably wouldn’t be happy to see a blank page. As always, I didn’t want to give her an excuse to judge or chastise me. I was already up to nine days in diapers; the last thing I needed was another punishment that centered around making me seem even more immature.

Not really knowing where to start, I simply picked up a blue pen and drew a few simple symbols in the corner. That was more or less the extent of my artistic talents. Actually trying beyond that was a recipe for disaster, so I did my best to run with the word ‘doodle’ she had mentioned. A page full of simple patterns and little marks was better than a totally botched drawing.

All the while, I was subjected to hearing about how one of our cousins’ dresses looked so good on Kate, or how Lilah should wear this or that to contrast what Luna had already decided on. Once they had all settled on an outfit, it was on to jewelry, and shoes, and eventually hair. I couldn’t really immerse myself in my doodling, as even the most simple movements of the pen felt awkward, which meant I wasn’t capable of tuning out the trio behind me.

After what felt like forever, they were done. And when I fully turned around, I instantly felt incredibly self conscious. All three of the girls looked gorgeous in their fancy and expensive looking dresses, not to mention how they had all done each others’ hair in complicated and pretty looking braids. Meanwhile, I was still sitting there in a much less mature outfit with a high ponytail, which Kate had deemed fine when sitting me down. To add insult to injury, my sister was wearing a dark blue dress that was one of my signature colors under normal circumstances.

She came over and took in my nearly full page of simple ‘artwork.’ With a soft chuckle, she murmured, “I think it’s pretty obvious which one of us is the older sister.” Giving my ponytail a flick, she took my hand and guided me to my feet. “Time to go, Annie,” speaking at a normal volume again for our cousins’ sake, she asked, “Do you need another bathroom break before we head out?”

“Like, no,” I replied, with a faint blush, “I’m fine.”

“You sure, little sis?”

“Like, totally.”

Kate didn’t seem to care one way or another; she probably just asked for the sake of once again displaying our false dynamic to our cousins. She kept her grip on my hand to lead me out of the room, and I knew better than to yank my arm free.

Aunt Miranda was waiting for us downstairs, and she was dressed up just like the rest of us. “You all look so nice!” she exclaimed, “We’ll have to get a picture later.”

“Great idea!” Kate grinned, “Is Uncle Rob joining us?”

“He’s already there. Finishing up a round of golf with his friends, and he’ll meet us right afterwards.”

A country club, then? No one had outright mentioned where we were going in my presence, though that seemed like the only logical possibility.

Kate had me put on the same shoes I wore to the mall. It was a small thing, yet still so embarrassing. Though they kind of went with the dress, the shoes felt painfully casual compared to the heels, flats, etc. that everyone else was wearing. And, just like all of the other drives, I was expected to use the carseat. This time, when our aunt was driving.

To my surprise, Aunt Miranda didn’t react or comment at all to Kate buckling me into the demeaning seat. Clearly she thought this was part of our little ‘prank,’ which meant I would be getting no help from her even though she knew my real age.