Another self-contained short story retelling a tale many of us which had happened to us: a gender-confused boy, a supportive mother, and concerns about the future.

A crashing sound filled the house as the vase hit the floor. Mark had reached desperately for the vase as it stated to tip over, but was not quick enough. One careless moment twirling around to look at the mirror from a different angle was all it took. As usual, Mommy's dresser was overloaded with a mixture of decorations, photos, jewelry, and most fascinating of all, her assortment of cosmetics. The vase of flowers had been too close to the edge, but Mark generally avoided moving anything unnecessarily.

Mark knew that his mother was downstairs already working from home by a video link to her employer's office. Due to time zone differences his mother started work several hours before Mark needed to leave for school. My mutual agreement he spent an hour each morning doing housework chores so that his mother could focus on her fashion merchandizing job. His father worked long hours but did not earn much, and the family really depended on Mrs. McCoy's income to maintain a comfortable lifestyle. This arrangement meant that Mark could depend on being alone upstairs every morning while his father was gone and his mother was behind a closed door in her first floor office.

Occasionally the temptation of Mommy's clothes and makeup would overcome Mark's caution and he, like many other boys his age, experimented a bit. Nothing serious, just healthy, age-appropriate curiosity about the marvels of feminine things. Since his job included cleaning and dusting the room and putting dirty clothes into the laundry he never had any concerns about Mommy finding her things out of place.

This morning he had been cleaning in Mommy's bedroom when he noticed that a lipstick tube had fallen onto the floor. He was picking it up to put back on the dresser top when he decided to take the cap off and look at the marvelous cylinder of bright red color inside. Sitting in front of the mirror he slowly tried to apply the delicately-flavored lipstick. He had not used lipstick often, and the first attempt was a mess. Blotting it off with a tissue (which would go into the trash and be taken out) he tried again and did a better job. Picking up Mommy's hair brush he swept his somewhat longish hair into a fair resemblance of a girl's hair style. There was a scarf hanging over the back of the chair that he knew would look awesome draped over his shoulders. He stood up to spin around and look back over his shoulder in the sort of pose he had seen models do in mom's fashion magazine pictures. Moving quickly with excitement he failed to notice that the scarf had caught on one of the plastic decoration in the flower vase and ....

Mommy certainly would have heard the crash. But maybe she was concentrating on work and would not come up to investigate right away. Mark started to pick up the pieces, but then realized that he could explain the broken vase much more easily than he could explain the lipstick. He headed for Mommy's bathroom planning to wash his face when he heard the door open.

"Mark, what happened? I heard a noise and was concerned."

Mark tensed up and silently awaited the inevitable.

"What have you been doing? Why are you wearing my new lipstick and scarf, dear?"

"I'm sorry. I was just ..."

"Don't worry. The vase can be replaced. It's you that I am concerned about. Hurry and get cleaned up so you can get to school on time. OK?

Mark carefully took off the scarf and folded it neatly before turning to go to his own room.

"By the way, that lipstick color is far to mature for a girl your age," she added with a laugh."Make sure you get it all off before leaving the house."

"Yes, Mommy."

She looked at Mark and glared. "I have to get back to my work now. We will talk more this afternoon."

After washing and changing to his school clothes Mark picked up his book pack and headed out the front door. He tried to act normal as he headed to his first class. Although he tried to pay attention to the teacher, Mommy's remark about talking in the afternoon was on his mind. Meanwhile, he was acutely aware of the pale pink shade of lip gloss his friend Sally was wearing.

"Mark McCoy, are you listening? Do you have an answer?"

"Sorry Miss Murray, I was thinking about a math problem from yesterday."

"Well, this is English class, not math. Stay focused."

His mind returned to wondering what was in store for him when he got back home. Concentrate on class he thought to himself. No need to add a misbehavior report from a teacher to his other concerns. Finally the school day ended and he headed home to face his fate. He avoided eye contact with his usual friends and charged straight for the gate.

"Hey, Mark. Is something wrong?"

He recognized Sally's voice but did not turn around. "I'm OK. I just need to think."

"Well, maybe it will be better tomorrow. Bye."

As Mark walked along he noticed a motivational billboard proclaiming "Truth will set you free!" He stopped and stared. Was that declaration something new or had he just never paid attention before? He took the longer route home to have more time to think. Yes, he thought, truth is the only way out of this situation. No matter what questions Mommy asked, Mark resolved to give a truthful answer. There was no way he could talk his way out of what his mother had already seen.

Mark arrived home and headed straight to his room and slammed the door. He threw himself down on the bed wondering what was coming next. After a while he turned on some soothing music and tried to relax. He looked out the side window and realized that his mother's car was not in the driveway. Her scheduled work ended before school was out, and she usually greeted Mark as soon as he came home, so he wondered where she might have gone.

Presently he heard her car arrive followed by the opening and closing of the front door. He tensed up and waited, but mother seemed to be in no hurry. Her footsteps coming up the stairs sounded like a march of doom which was terminated by the sound of her bedroom door closing. Finally, a knock on his door announced that the dreaded moment arrived.

"Darling, are you in there? Please come to my room for a little talk."

Mark opened the door and looked down. How could he face his mother after what happened this morning? He felt like he was being dragged to the gallows, but in reality his mother was gently holding his hand and leading him to the chair next to her dressing table.

"Dear, I want to know that I love you and care about you. You know you can share anything, any problem, with me and I will be there for you. Understand?"

Mark realized that she was not angry and started to calm down. "Yes, Mommy I know that."

"I know you have had arguments with your father, but he loves you too and wants the best for you as well."

Mark knew that his father was working a long shift on an out-of-town assignment so it was not likely that he had talked to mother since this morning. "Am I going to get in trouble with him?"

"Not necessarily. Let's talk about what I saw this morning. Tell me why you were wearing lipstick and a very feminine scarf. Is this something you do often while I am downstairs working?"

Truth, truth, truth Mark told himself. "I have done things like that before, but not very often. This morning the lipstick on the floor looked so fascinating and I ... I ..."

"Go on, darling."

"I wanted to see how it looked on me."

She pulled Mark closer and looked into his eyes. "Do you ever wonder what it would be like to be a pretty girl?

Mark hesitated then remembered his resolution to tell the truth. "Yes," he whispered.

"Would you like me show you how to properly wear makeup?"

"Yes," he answered trying not to sound too excited. It was amazing that she seemed to be completely supportive about his experimentation.

"Alright darling, go take a shower and wash your face and hair completely then slip on this dressing gown and come back here."

Mark ran his fingers over the smooth pink fabric of his mother's frilly dressing gown as he left the room. As he washed he realized that she had never called him "darling" until today. Soon he was ready and returned to his mother's room. As he walked in he noticed a bag from Sephora.

"I see you are noticing the shopping I did after work today. My makeup uses a color pallet that looks good on an adult woman. I had to go out and buy some items that are more appropriate for a girl your age and that will work with your natural skin tone.

"Have you ever noticed that the girls in your class wear very subtle makeup is that is effective but looks very natural?"

Mark had a guilty thought about how he had been admiring Sally's makeup at school.

"Sit down with your knees together and your hands in your lap. Yes, like that darling.

"Now the first step is to make your skin look nice and smooth. I am going to use a cotton ball and apply what is called foundation. Watch in the mirror and see how I blend it in from your hairline to below your collar. The idea is to give the impression that your skin is uniform and flawless.

"Next I am going to use this brush to apply a light coat of powder to take away the shine of the foundation but leave a translucent glow to your skin.

"This product is called blush and gives a nice healthy color to your face and highlights your cheekbones."

Mark was fascinated; he struggled to remember every detail of her techniques.

"Now I will start on your eyes. Properly made up a girl's eyes create a totally feminine look that can express a mood for every occasion. The trick on a girl your age is to enhance the size of the eyes without creating an artificial appearance. First I need to apply a little shadow to your eyelids: one shade above and a lighter one below. There, that's done. Now close one eye at a time while I apply this eyeliner. Now open your eyes and let me brush this mascara to make your lashes look longer and fuller. Notice how I twirl the brush as I move it outward on each eye lash."

Mark looked at the mirror and could not believe the magic that was happening. Even partway though the process the face he was seeing clearly said "girl."

"To complete your eyes, I need to use this pencil to give you the appearance of thin arched eyebrows. Most girls pluck their eyebrows, but that is not possible given your current circumstances."

That last remark brought him back to the reality that he was a boy. He put that thought aside and continued to enjoy this unique experience with Mommy.

"You know "Mark" hardly fits the pretty face I am seeing. How about if I call you Marsha the rest of the evening?"

"That name sounds nice."

"Ok, Marsha darling, shall I continue?" Marsha nodded. "Now for some lip gloss. First I want you to be aware that girls your age wear very light lip colors like this pink unless it is a really special occasion. Pout out your lips while I apply this. Now I will gently blot off the excess.

"Fortunately, we have been keeping your hair fairly long. Let me brush it so it looks more like what an athletic girl might wear. Yes, now here are a couple of hair clips to keep it in place and give a more feminine appearance.

"Well, what do you think? Do you like your new look?"

Marsha looked at the mirror and was almost in tears. "Mommy, thank you. This is awesome!"

"I think you look as pretty as any of the other girls in your class.

"Now, let's go downstairs and have a light supper. My dressing gown will have to suffice for the occasion. I did buy my secret daughter any clothes of her own for this one time."

Marsha thought about some of Mommy's remarks as they fixed their food and ate. Words like 'other girls' and 'secret daughter' sounded so encouraging. But words like 'current circumstances' and 'one time' sounded like this might never happen again.

They cleaned the kitchen and went to the living room. Marsha remembered to sit like a girl while she waited for mother to say something. Mommy seemed to be staring at the wall lost in thought. Finally the suspense became unbearable.

"Mommy, what is going to happen next?"

"Well, first and foremost you need to clean off that makeup and go to bed. Mark needs to go to school as usual tomorrow. Do you understand that?"

"When will I be able to wear makeup like this again?"

"I really don't know. Not too soon I expect. You probably want to keep this private for now."

"Are you going to tell my father about this?"

"Not unless you ask me to. He is very old-fashioned in his ways and might not understand or approve."

"Am I doing something wrong?"

"No darling. It is perfectly OK to explore your personality and identity. The problem is that gender non-conformity is challenging to many people. If you do things that are not conventional you need to realize that you will encounter opposition or even hostility."

"Like from Father?"

"Maybe. So, let's keep tonight a secret between us. I decided not to take a photo of my pretty daughter because there is always a chance of an electronic file being found and copied. You saw yourself in the mirror; remember and treasure that experience."

All too soon Marsha disappeared and Mark went to bed. His mother started to agonize about what she had done. The experience had been wonderful for both of them, but should she have encouraged Mark's feminine interest? Was this just harmless, one-time game playing or was what had happened something deeper and more significant? What had she started, and where would it lead?

She poured herself a glass of wine and started to softly cry.