Alice’s Tea Party

I nervously sat on the Mead’s floral love seat thinking to myself, how could I have been so stupid? The truth was, I knew how. Alice and I were having so much fun. We always seemed to have fun together. I had been babysitting her for two years. Alice was such a great kid. Now because I had not been watching the clock, play time was over. Probably forever.

SIX MONTHS EARLIER

“What was in this box again?” I asked Pam Mead.

Pam looked unsure. Then she pulled off the packing tape and looked inside. “Kitchen stuff.” she announced.

I wrote "kitchen stuff" on the box and sighed. “You know if we keep having to check every box twice, not only are we going to run out of time,” I said, taping the box shut, “but also tape.”

Pam kissed me on the cheek. “I am so going to miss you, Bill,” she said, grabbed another big box. “On second thought, I think I will take you with me.” She opened the box, “Hop in.”

I was about to respond with a Hardy-har-har, when Pam’s parents walked into the kitchen.

“We don’t have a choice, June,” said Mr. Mead. “I will have to take the later shift so I can get Alice after school and then you can take over before I have to head to work.”

“But then we will be two ships passing in the night,” Mrs. Mead argued.

“What’s going on?” asked Pam.

“Your father and I are trying to figure out who we can get to watch Alice after school now that you’re heading to college. We have the summer covered but Gram and Papa are heading south the first of September,” Mrs. Mead explained, then seeing me added, “Oh, hi, Bill. Thanks for helping Pam pack. You are the best friend ever.”

Seizing the opportunity, I blurted out, “how about me?”

Everyone looked at me. “Thanks for offering sweety, but I am sure you have far more important things to do than babysitting for us every night.” Mrs. Mead said walking over and patting my hand.

“No really,” I assured them.

“Besides his parents are never home,” Pam interjected, “I’m sure babysitting beats going home to an empty house?”

“Pamela Lillian Mead, mind your manners.” Mrs. Mead chastised her oldest daughter.

“What” They aren’t,” Pam argued while walking over and taking my arm. “Bill and I have been best friends for five years and I have only met Mr. and Mrs. Ward twice.” Pam tussled my hair, “He’s basically and orphan.”

Mrs. Mead gave Pam a reproachful look. Then she smiled at me and said “Well, if you really wouldn’t mind…”

“It would help us out quite a bit.” Mr. Mead finished for her.

“No problem,” I reassured them, “Alice and I will have a great time.”

“Besides.” Pam spoke up again, “Who could you trust more than Bill? He’s practically family.”

Our plan was simple. I walked right by Alice’s school on the way home from my school. I would meet Alice after school, walk her home, give her a snack, make sure she did her homework and then we could play until Mr. or Mrs. Mead got home.

Everything was fine for a while. Then one day Alice and I were having a tea party, one of Alice’s favorite games. Alice asked, “Would you change into Barbie for me today.”

I froze. No one other than Pam was supposed to know about Barbie. Barbie was the secret identity I had confessed to Pam many years ago, I thought girl’s clothes were so much better than boy’s clothes and I wanted to try wearing them. Pam said if I was willing to let her call me Barbie, I could wear her clothes and she would teach me how to be a girl. I had agreed to her terms and we played dress up most afternoons for over a year.

“Whatever are you talking about, sweetie?” I asked Alice.

“You know,” she replied innocently, “Like with Pam.”

It would appear our secret dress-up and makeup sessions were not as secret as I thought.

Alice was so cute, so, of course, I gave in. I put on an episode of "Paw Patro"l for her and by the time the pups had saved the day, I was Barbie. It felt so good to be Barbie again. After that, I changing into Barbie every day after school. Alice and I would play and I would go back to being Bill before Mr. or Mrs. Mead got home. Tonight, the Meads had come home early and walked in on Alice, me, and about three of her dolls having a tea party.

PRESENT DAY

The Meads had told me to go to their room, sit on the love seat and wait for them. They had not yelled. They had not even raised their voices. They had just asked me to go so they could have a talk with Alice. I did as I was told. I sat awaiting my fate still dressed as Barbie.

Time passed. It was probably only a few minutes but it felt like years. Mr. and Mrs. Mead entered the room. Mr. Mead stood at the door and Mrs. Mead sat next to me. She whispered, “Amazing.” She then took my chin in her hand and turned my head this way and that. “Just amazing,” she repeated.

Mr. Mead coughed, drawing our attention. “Now than, um … Bill.”

I couldn’t take it anymore. I cut him off with a series of rapid-fire sentences. “This is all my fault. I am so sorry. I understand if you hate me. Please don’t blame Alice.”

“Hold on,” Mr. Mead said hold up his hands to stop me.

Mrs. Mead chuckled. I wondered what was so funny. Mrs. Mead must have read my mind because she explained, “Alice said almost the same thing. She tried to convince us that she forced you into dressing like a girl.”

My sisterly love for Alice grew tenfold.

“Right,” said Mr. Mead, looking a little uncomfortable. “Alice said when you are dressed like this, you prefer to be called Barbie. Is that true?”

“Yes, sir.” I responded.

“Well than,” He paused, “Barbie, Alice says you two have been playing this little dress up game for a while.”

“Yes, sir."

“That you like being Barbie and that in the past and you played a similar game with Pam. Is that also true?” Mr. Mead asked.

“Yes, sir,” I confirmed.

“Oh, so it was Pam who taught you how to put on makeup?” Mrs. Mead asked once again surveying my face.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I said resolved to whatever happened now.

“Either she was an excellent teacher or you were a good student,” Mrs. Mead said admiringly.

“Be that as it may,” Mr. Mead said, taking back control of the conversation, “Where did you get the clothes and makeup?”

Mrs. Mead looked skyward and mumbled under her breath, “men.” Then she turned to her husband and explained, “The clothes are Pam’s and I suspect the cosmetics are, too.” She moved closer to me sniffed and then added, “I know the perfume is.”

“Oh,” said Mr. Mead mollified, “alright then.”

I decided to test the waters. “Do you guys hate me?”

Mr. Mead looked hurt. Mrs. Mead answered me by giving me a huge hug. “Oh Sweetie. We could never hate you. You’re like one of our children. We love you.”

I felt so much better. “Are you going to tell my parents?”

“No Barbie, we’re not.” Mrs. Mead looked at her husband and they exchanged a telepathic message. “You are.” My face became a mask of terror, “When you’re ready,” Mrs. Mead finished, patted my hand motherly. “In the mean time you can be Barbie whenever you would like when you’re here.” Mrs. Mead then leaned close and in a conspiratorial tone said, “maybe we can even have you babysit,” she made quotation marks in the air, “for us a few weekends a month. How does that sound, dear.”

“That sound amazing.” I said as I hugged Mrs. Mead. Then I ran over and hugged Mr. Mead. “Thank you, too, Mr. Mead.”

“No sweat,” said Mr. Mead awkwardly. He really didn’t know what to do, so he just patted me on the back. “Go ahead and get changed and I'll walk you home.”

After graduation, I told my parents about Barbie. They reacted with their usual indifference. Mr. and Mrs. Mead however, decided Alice needed a full-time live-in nanny and offered me the position. With tears in my eyes, I agreed. I get to be Barbie every day now. I am part of a real family and I never felt so accepted in my life.