A Day at Joan's House


My parents were having the house painted. For the whole morning they had kept busy by spreading tarps over the floor to catch paint drips and putting tape around baseboards and window frames. My sister Amy and I were a constant nuisance, so when she said she wanted to go visit her friend Joan’s house they eagerly agreed. With a call of, “Take your brother with you,” they shooed me along as well. Neither of us were particularly happy with the situation, but Amy assured me that we could play board games and maybe go swimming in Joan's pool.

I had met Joan a few times in passing when she came over and headed straight for Amy’s room, but I had never visited her house. She lived in a nice ranch-style home a few blocks from our house, so the walk took only a few minutes. When we arrived Joan answered the door. She smiled and greeted Amy, before she noticed me and pouted a bit. “Aww, that’s no fun. Why’d you bring him?”



Amy just shrugged, “Mom and dad made me. Maybe we can play some board games or something instead.” I just stood there idly with my hands in the pockets of my jeans. Our parents figured that most of my sister’s clothes were unisex enough, and so my jeans were the latest in a long line of hand-me-downs.

“I guess we can see what’s in the den.” Joan said, as she waved us inside.

From the kitchen Joan’s mother called out, “Who is it, dear?” More as a formality than an actual question as she walked into the foyer. “Oh, I didn’t know you had your girl friends coming over Joanie.” I blinked for a moment in confusion, but figured Joan’s mom just had not expected to see a boy.

“I told you Amy was coming, mom.” Joan said with the intractability of a young teenager. Amy and I just stood quietly.

“Yes, but you didn’t say anything about her sister.” Amy stifled a laugh. I was dumbfounded by the mistake. Sure my hair was a little long and I only had jeans and a simple sleeveless shirt, but I didn’t think I looked like a girl. I thought Joan’s mom might be missing her glasses or simply felt committed to her misspoken words. In any case I could not muster the courage to correct her.

After a moment of puzzlement (possibly at my lack of opposition), Joan piped in, “Mom, that’s just Amy’s sister Natalie.” My sister snickered, but didn’t object. I just stood biting my lip, bewildered.

“Alright dear, I didn’t mean to intrude.” With that she returned to the kitchen. Amy released the laughter she had been holding in and Joan soon joined her.

Before any mention of board games could be had, Joan proclaimed that we should hang out in her room. Her sister Jessica was back from university for summer break and she had all sorts of exciting tales to tell about college life.

Joan’s room was a typical early teen’s room. Her trundle bed was over loaded with pillows and a large bookshelf overflowed with stuffed animals, but juxtaposed with that childlike décor were posters of boy bands and a white vanity table including a tall mirror - with a new pink cosmetics case (Joan had recently had a birthday, I learned).

They talked for what seemed like hours. I just observed Joan’s room and became progressively more bored. But by then Joan and Amy had begun playing house. Joan was the mother; Amy was the college-age daughter visiting from school.

Feeling like I'd seen all I needed to see of Joan's room, soon I was just sitting by the door. Eventually Joan exclaimed, “I wish someone in this house could do the yard work while Amy studies for her tests. I can’t do everything!” She looked over at me resolutely.

By then I was so bored I felt compelled to join in. “I’ll help out,” I proclaimed. Moments later a long pillow was thrust into my hands as a makeshift lawnmower. I dutifully crisscrossed the portion of the room Joan had set aside as the outdoors. I occasionally ventured conversation pieces like, “What are you making for dinner?” But Amy and Joan stayed within the boundaries of the imaginary house.

They both intermittently talked and giggled. Eventually Joan began setting out dishes on her vanity stool as an improvised table and proclaimed, “Alright hun, dinner’s ready!” Amy dutifully put away her Seventeen magazine, which had acted as her prop coursebook.

As dad had said many times to mom, I replied, “Alright dear, I’ll be right there.”

Joan set her plastic dish down. “What do you mean ‘dear’?”

I stared at her blankly for a moment. “Isn’t that what husbands say to their wives?” I protested.

“Natalie, girls can’t be husbands,” Joan said, matter-of-factly. “Isn’t that right, Amy?”

My sister smiled and affirmed the decree. “Yep.” She was no help.

“What do you expect me to do then?”

“Be Amy’s little sister, just like you are, Natalie.” She must have sensed my disappointment but asserted her authority by saying it was her room. Soon it wasn’t house anymore; Joan decided it would be easier for me if changed the game. They decided that we should imitate Jessica’s time at college and pretend to be girls living in a university dorm.

We talked about what we knew of studying and going out to parties and – eventually - boys. I’m sure they had already had similar discussions judging by how fluidly they went over “how cute Mark is” or “how Jim looks so stunning” and other celebrities and classmates. But eventually the conversation cycled back to me.

“So Natalie, who do you like?”

I hadn’t hit puberty yet, so I didn’t much care for boys or girls, but I knew some of my friends at school had recently professed their love of the female form, so I knew I was expected to find girls attractive. "I guess April looks pretty nice."

“April?” Joan cocked her head at my sister.

Amy filled her in: “She’s the reporter in the turtles cartoon.”

“Ick, that’s not right Natalie.” She made a disgusted face at me, “What boys do you like?” I stammered in response. “Oh, you’re so coy. Holding out on us with a great hunk, huh?” She said as she rested her head on her hands, staring at me.

Amy even started in, “Come on sissy, tell us who you like!”

“I… I guess Andy is alright.” I said – using my best friend’s name half as a response and half as a question.

“Oh come on Natalie, don’t be shy. What do you like about him?” Joan pressed me. They both stared at me intently.

I tried variations on their earlier talk, “He’s handsome and kind.” They kept looking at me, expecting more. “Whenever the boys play kickball or softball he invites me to play.” Still more. “He’s so nice and helpful. When I dropped my books going to class he helped me with them and I looked into his eyes and thought he was special.”

“How nice!” Joan exclaimed. “He sounds perfect for you, Natalie.”

Amy laughed, “Cute and a winning personality!”

“You should be sure nobody steals him away!” Joan laughed, too. “Like me or Amy.” My sister grinned and nodded in agreement. Then Joan stood up, “Oh, I’ve got a great idea to help Natalie out!” She headed to the door, “I’ll be back in a sec.”

Amy sat down next to me on the floor. She tried to keep up conversation, “So did anything happen?”

“What?”

“Did he ask you out, sis?” She asked. I looked back at her dumbfounded.

Then Joan reentered the room nearly out of breath, clutching a jumble of items in her arms. She opened up her crossed arms and a pile of tiny clothes, colorful accessories and Barbie dolls spilled out onto the carpet. “I don't play with these anymore, but I think they'll help." She clutched a dark-haired one in her hands and held it out to me. "Here you go Natalie; you can be Skipper, Barbie’s younger sister.” She handed Amy a Barbie and dug through the pile until she found a Ken doll for herself.

“I thought we were playing house?” I murmured, staring at the doll in my hands.

Joan looked at me dismissively, “We’re going to prepare you for when Andy asks you out, silly!” She sat down next to me and my sister, forming a circle around the pile of doll stuff. Amy gave me a handful of clothes for Skipper. “Now dress like you would to impress the boys.”

I started to pull on a pair of grey sweatpants over the doll’s feet, slowly tugging them down the legs. Amy stopped me almost immediately saying, “Oh no, you can’t wear sweatpants. You’ll never get a boyfriend with those!” Joan took the pants out of my hand and tossed them back in the pile.

I rummaged through the rest of the clothes I had been given but I could only find a flaring denim skirt to put on her legs. “Is that better, Joan?” I held the doll out for her, even though it was the only clothing option available.

“That’s excellent Natalie. It really shows off your legs. Now you just need to find a good top.” Encouraged, I picked through the clothes in my lap until I found a white shirt and a jean jacket to put over it.



“That’s the perfect outfit, sis!” Amy said, glancing at my Barbie. I beamed with pride for a moment before Joan handed me a brush. I began brushing my alter ego’s hair straight, fixing it to be just right and securing it with a tiny headband.

Then Joan swept away the extra clothes and put her Ken doll down and announced that we would role-play my conversation with Andy. Amy’s immaculately dressed Barbie also stood there to coach me – with advice like “tell him how cute you think he is” and “tell him what you like about him.” I dutifully tried to follow her guidance as I talked with Andy.

Eventually Andy asked, “So, Natalie do you want to go out on a date?”

I gasped in astonishment before exclaiming, “Yes!” Amy and Joan giggled. I joined in – I was going on a date!

And then Andy went lifeless. Joan tossed her Ken doll aside. She looked at Amy, “You know what Natalie really needs to woo over the boys?”

Amy’s eyes widened in excitement, “Oh, yeah!”

Soon I was being pulled up from the bedroom floor and they sat me in front of Joan’s vanity. Unfamiliar with makeup and beauty routines, I just sat there puzzled as Joan slowly opened the clasps on her cosmetics case and unfolded the confusion of shelves and compartments.

I stared in bewilderment at the pretty colors and interesting shapes of all the makeup containers. Amy placed some tissues on the edge of the vanity’s top and then took my hands from my lap and put them on the tissues. “Now don’t move, sis. You’ll make a mess.” I dutifully kept still, watching intently.

She dug through the bottom of the case, fingering through vials until Joan nodded in agreement with her. She pulled out a metallic pink bottle. She unscrewed the top and began brushing the fluid over each of my fingernails in succession. I looked down for a moment before Joan tipped my head back up, “Come on Natalie, you’ll ruin your makeover if you keep moving your head.”

As Amy worked on my nails, Joan rubbed something onto my face and then whisked on a reddish powder. She began rubbing her finger over my cheeks, blending it together. “This is blush, Natalie. It makes you look more lively and the boys won’t be able to tell when you’re embarrassed.”

Amy came around to paint the fluid onto my other hand and Joan lithely grabbed some tubes from the cosmetics case. As she unscrewed one a fluffy brush emerged; she carefully leaned in and swept it near my eyes. Next she took a small pencil and carefully drew along my eyes, warning me to stay still because she didn’t want to accidentally poke me. She smiled down at me and I smiled happily back.

“Don’t move your hands for a few minutes, Natalie.” My sister had finished with my hands and helped Joan. Amy took out a small plastic compact filled with an assortment of colors. She picked a blue one and whisked a fluffy brush across my eyelids. Joan uncapped a small tube and twisted it until a cylinder of red wax came out.



Nearly finished, Amy gently dabbed my eyelids with her finger. Joan had yet another tube that she unscrewed, and dabbed a shiny goop across my lips. I looked at myself in the mirror, staring at a better, prettier version of myself. The attention the girls lavished upon me made me happy to be part of their group.

With their work complete they put all the makeup back in the case. Glancing at my face in the mirror Joan said, “I think Natalie’s ready for the boys!” My sister gave an affirming Mmm-hmm. I beamed with pride at their compliments and their acceptance.

Joan took out her camera. My sister clasped her arm around my shoulder and I leaned my head against hers and smiled broadly as Joan snapped the picture. “Now that Natalie’s learned about boys, how about we get some exercise and have some fun in the pool?”

I looked up at them from my painted face, stammering out a “What about me? I don’t have my trunks.”

Amy bit her lip and then Joan’s face beamed with a grin. “I’m sure I’ve got a suit that will fit you. Me and Amy can look for it while your nail polish dries.” So they dug through Joan’s closet until they came out with a girl’s purple and blue striped one piece swimming suit.

With my nails dried they directed me down the hall with the suit. In the hall, Joan’s mother stopped me and complimented my makeup, “you’re probably a bit young for makeup Natalie, but you do look very pretty!” My own blushing hidden by the blush, I continued into the bathroom and – eventually – figured out how to slip on the swimming suit.

The rest of the afternoon we spent playing in the pool in Joan’s backyard. When Natalie and I were ready to head home I put my clothes back on and saw that most of the makeup had washed off in the pool. Only the lacquer on my nails remained as a reminder of the day I had spent as Natalie. On the way home I kept holding my hands out in front of me, watching the light glimmer off the light metallic pink polish.

Back at home I showed my sister my shiny pink nails. She bit her lip, “Sorry, We don’t have any nail polish remover in the house.” She shrugged, “We’ll have to go back to Joan’s tomorrow." She smiled down at me. I put on a faux pout before smiling back.

I didn’t mind.