Halloween Drag

I opened the front door to find Jonah dressed in drag: blonde wig, pale blue 50s housewife dress, black handbag, black pumps and Tammy Faye Baker makeup. Toilet paper breasts tufted out the top of his dress.

“Happy Halloween! Why aren’t you dressed?” He asked after an exaggerated curtsy.

“I can’t go.”

Jonah invited me to go to a frat party with him in Ames. He was attending some drawing classes at ISU and made friends with the president. He’d kept his costume a surprise. I was going as an Alex P. Keaton era republican: khakis, blue blazer, blue oxford shirt, and red power tie. I’d planned to set the Bill of Rights on fire.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“It’s Will.”

Jonah sighed and stepped inside. “What happened?”

“He dumped me.”

“I thought that’s what you wanted.”

My relationship with Will had been on the rocks since he’d left for the University of Iowa. He never called or wrote; when we did speak we bickered.

“Yeah … maybe … it still hurts though,” I studdered.

“When did this happen?”

“About an hour ago.”

Will had come home for the weekend and broke the news after seducing me in my own bed.

“Come here,” Jonah said taking me in his arms.

I cried into his fake breasts. Sobs welled from dark hidden places.

“Love, you’re getting mascara on my new dress,” he joked.

I laughed, pulled away, and wiped tears off the puckered cotton of his bodice. “Sorry.”

“Go get dressed,” he said. “We are going out and we are going to have a good time. There’ll be lots of hot college boys for you to flirt with.”

“I can’t wear my costume,” I said.

“Why not?”

“I don’t have the energy to be Republican.”

Jonah laughed. “I understand.” He stepped back and looked at me. “Do you still have that hideous homecoming dress?”

“The blue one?”

“The 80s looking one?”

I nodded.

“Put that on, too much makeup, torn hose, mismatched heels, and you’ll be a bad prom date.”

I laughed. “You’re a genius.”

“Don’t tease me. Go get dressed.”

I put on the outfit as he described, teased my blonde locks, and smeared lipstick all over my mouth and teeth.

“That’s perfect. Let’s go. You’re driving.”

We walked out to the car clinging to each other, wobbly in heels: two girls dressed up in Mommy’s clothes.

In the car, I shucked my heels, shifted into reverse and took off. “How are classes?” I asked once on the interstate.

Photo: eljessicao