Love Less -7- Dinner (Patreon)

Jessie put a hand on Les’s arm. “Are you okay, dear?” she asked. “Do you need to leave the table?” Pris in the chair beside him gave a one-armed hug.

Les shook his head, trying to smile through his tears. “I just—I don’t know. I’ve never heard such a beautiful prayer. We didn’t pray at mealtimes in my family.” He looked up to see everyone at the table smiling at him.

Josie, the young woman sitting directly across from him (and who looked as if she might be Bettina’s daughter) chuckled. “I’m glad to know it wasn’t because my mashed potatoes have lumps in them.”

Everyone laughed then. Jessie handed Les a cloth napkin from beside his own plate, and he dried his tears with that then put it into his lap like he saw everyone else had already done.

Pris leaned over to whisper, “Josie is a really good cook. If her potatoes have lumps in them, it’s because they’re better that way. Her school is on spring break, and she’s visiting her mom and helping with the cooking.”

Les nodded, he had wondered. The Davenport family seemed very varied and complex. He smiled, thinking that adding a boy in a dress hardly disturbed things at all.

And suddenly he was ravenous. Hunger often struck that way with him. He’d lost the only meal he’d eaten during the day, a victim of tension and fright but now platters, bowls, and decanters were being passed around the table.

He accepted a platter from Jessie of what looked like small circles of meat and took one of them to put on his plate before passing the dish on to Pris.

“Beef medallions,” she said. “Yummy. You should take two because they will never make it back around this end of the table.” She took two for her own plate and put a second one on Les’s.

He started to protest but the smell of the food caused him to have to swallow a mouthful of saliva, and he missed his chance while Jessie, on his other side, put a large spoon of mashed potatoes next to the beef. A gravy bowl followed after he passed the potatoes on and Jessie ladled some of the golden brown liquid atop both meat and vegetables.

Baked squash and steamed broccoli followed along with a piece of fluffy bread from a basket, a glass of milk from one of the pitchers and a separate small plate for some mixed green salad. 

“Maddy told me you like milk,” Jessie commented.

Les laughed, a giggle, really. “We didn’t always have milk. I remember eating breakfast cereal with Dr. Pepper on it.”

“Ew!” said Pris and Jessie made a face.

“This seems like a lot of food,” Les said. “I’m not sure I can eat all of it.”

“What you can’t finish will go into the slops for our piggies,” Jessie told him.

“And then, we eat the piggies,” said Pris.

Les made a face, and Pris laughed.

“Eventually,” agreed Jessie. “This is a real farm, and we want the kids to know where their food comes from.”

“Circle K?” said Les, looking completely innocent.

Pris howled with laughter, and Jessie chuckled. Then Pris had to repeat the joke to everyone at the table, all of whom laughed, too. By which time, Les had managed to eat most of the food on his plate, including a dinner roll that was some of the best bread he had ever tasted.

Small bowls of fruit brought from the kitchen by Pris and Josie served as dessert and Les managed to eat more than a few bites of that, too. He wasn’t sure he had ever been as satisfied with a meal, but he had stopped before getting completely stuffed.

Owen stood up and announced, “Kimby and I have the animals to deal with tonight, but anyone who hasn’t something else to do is welcome to come along.” The twins were on their feet immediately and followed their father and oldest sister out through a utility room with much chatting and giggling. After speaking to her mother, Josie hurried to catch up.

Carol leaned forward in her chair and said to Les around Pris. “It’s our turn to clean the table. You get the silverware. I will start on the plates.” Les nodded, pleased to feel useful. It wouldn’t take too long. Every diner had already carried most of the things they had used themselves into the kitchen.

Jessie and Bettina helped and supervised, directing the gathering of the serving dishes. Pots and pans had been soaking in hot water during dinner and were ready to be washed.

Bettina put away leftovers, and Jessie discarded scraps after showing Les how to tie on an apron so he could rinse plates and bowls and start filling the dishwasher. “I like to dress up for dinner, too, “ she said to him. “Even if I have to be extra careful if I’m doing clean-up.”

A giggle seemed like a safe reply to that, Les decided.

Carol made several trips in her chair and seemed pleased with herself each time. “I can’t reach into the sink from my chair. Or the cabinets to put things away,” she told Les. “I always do the table cleaning. I like doing it.”

Les smiled and nodded, unsure of what to say.

The efficiency of the operation impressed him. In a large family, such organization would be necessary. The clean-up of the kitchen went quickly, and Les felt good about helping out and doing something for his hosts. Even if he was wearing a dress to do it.

Pris showed up and volunteered to show him where to put things away. “You’ll get the hang of it,” she assured him. 

“It’s not rocket science,” Les agreed, standing on tiptoe to replace a salad bowl on a high shelf.

Carol said, “That’s good. I’m terrible at rocket science.” After everyone laughed, she added, “Finally. Someone gets one of my jokes.” She grinned when that got more laughs.

Later, Pris and Les went up to her room. Or, our room, Les thought. It looks like I’m going to be staying awhile at least.

“You ready to try on more clothes?” Pris asked.

He groaned. “I’m terrible at trying on clothes,” he suggested.

Pris laughed. “Actually, I think you’re going to be good at it. You’re so slim—almost anything is going to look good on you.” She picked out another dress from the pile. “Try this one. It never fit me right.”

“It’s pink!” he protested.

She nodded. “Coral pink. You’re a dark-haired spring, so it will look great on you. I’m a summer, and it makes me look ill.”

“Huh?” said Les.

Pris loaded another dress in his arms too and pushed him toward the bathroom. “Try them both on!” she said.

“At least this one isn’t pink,” he muttered looking at the simply cut charcoal of the second dress. But it’s still a dress, he told himself.

Might as well get it over with, he decided. Taking the turquoise dress off turned out to be harder than putting it on until he remembered the hook behind the neck. After that, it was easy.

“Do you have pierced ears?” Pris asked through the door.

“Uh, no,” Les answered. He put the aqua dress back on a hanger before checking the coral one for booby traps. Oh, no, it had slight padding in the bust. He was already wearing a padded bra. Maybe he should take it off?

“You don’t have, like, religious objections to getting your ears pierced, do you?”

“What? No. Why would anyone object for religious reasons?” Les wasn’t big on understanding religion in the first place, but he didn’t object to the idea of pierced ears. It’s just he was pretty sure what kind of earrings Pris would want him to wear. His Uncle Billy had pierced ears with large black studs in them. He almost told Pris that before thinking better of it.

He smoothed the coral dress over his thighs and looked in the mirror. The color seemed to light up his features as much as the aqua had. Spring, huh? It kind of made sense. 

“Your parents wouldn’t object? To ear piercing?”

“I dunno,” Les admitted. Not half as much as they would to me wearing a dress he thought, looking at the mirror again and touching his earlobes. He tried to take in the whole picture and felt a sinking sensation. If anything, he was even prettier in the pink dress. “I’m doomed,” he said aloud.

“Huh?” Pris asked from the other side of the door. “Why?”

“You want to put more holes in my head,” said Les. “I’m doomed.” He opened the door and on a whim struck a pose like he had seen girls in magazines and catalogs do.

First Pris laughed then she gasped. “That never looked so good on me, Elle! You should be a model.”