She's a Woman

Chapter Two - Free as a Bird

With a heavy heart I trudged up the stairs to my bedroom. My mind was having trouble processing what was going on, but my body seemed to know what it was doing. Somehow I couldn't stop myself from pulling a suitcase out from under my bed, popping it open, and stuffing my few possessions into it. A few small tears dribbled down my cheeks, but I wiped them away quickly and proceeded to pack my bags.

I didn't have a lot to take away with me. I hated nearly all of my clothes - the frilly, floral frocks Mum had bought that I'd never touched, let alone worn - and my shoes were all getting a bit small and cramped my toes. I decided on packing two pairs of trousers, one leather and the other denim, a couple of t-shirts, my winter coat, two pairs of flat shoes, a woolly jumper, several pairs of underwear, and the only dress I actually liked - a long blue one that covered my legs and most of my feet. I was already wearing my leather pants and jacket ensemble, a white t-shirt, and my reliable old brown boots.

There was still a lot of room in my suitcase for other things. I quickly shoved in a few books, my washing things, a pillow, a blanket, and several other items. I even tore down some of the posters that were hanging on the bedroom walls and crammed them into the case as well. My suitcase was just about filled to bursting point. I glanced wistfully at the record player sitting on the set of drawers. I knew there wasn't any way I could possibly drag it along with me, so I compromised by stowing a few records away in my case.

"Maybe I'll come across an unattended record player," I muttered, stroking my own player. It had been a gift from my dad. He'd given it to me on my fourteenth birthday, along with a pile of records, and I'd played them over and over until Mum screamed at me to shut it off.

I winced and tried not to think about my mother.

I slammed my suitcase shut. My guitar was still lying on the bed. I grabbed it, shoved it in its casing, and slung the entire thing over my shoulder. I was about to start out of the door when a terrifying thought struck me. What if Mum's outburst had just been a spur of the moment thing? What if she came home and found I was no longer there. She might make a big fuss and go out looking for me. She had such a terrible way of twisting things around so it looked like she wasn't the one to blame.

"If she did find me then she'd say I was a heartless little cow for running off," I said. "She'd ground me for sure and keep me locked away in my room until I'm as old as her."

That was the last thing I wanted. I had about twenty seconds of terror worrying over what I could do to prevent anything of the sort from happening. For reasons I can't explain I suddenly looked at the mirror hanging on the wall, just above my set of drawers. My reflection stared back at me.

"Do I really look like that?" I muttered, wrinkling my nose. "Mum was right. My hair does look awful. I look like a boy."

I ran my fingers through my short, fluffy locks, trying to puff them up a little, when I stopped. I peered at myself properly, examining every detail of my face.

"I look like a boy," I repeated.

I quickly rushed to my wardrobe and rooted around inside it, chucking clothes and shoes over my shoulder. After a minute or two I found what I was looking for: my brown flat top cap. It covered most of my head, and the wide brim kept my forehead and eyes hidden. I placed it on my head and again looked at myself in the mirror. With the cap concealing my more feminine facial features I could have easily passed for a boy.

"This is perfect!" I cried delightedly. "If Mum does go out looking for me she'll be looking for a seventeen year old girl, not a young rascal of a Teddy Boy!"

I removed the cap and proceed to comb my hair upwards into a quiff, but it fell limply back into place. I purloined a can of my mother's extra strong hairspray and doused my hair with the stuff. The quiff stayed, making me look even more like a boy. I chuckled as I admired my new appearance.

"Why didn't I think of this sooner?" I said, making some final adjustments to my disguise. "It's amazing what you can achieve with a bit of hairspray and trickery."

I slapped the cap back on my head, gathered up a couple more things, and paraded out of the bedroom, feeling immensely proud of myself. The tight, worried feeling that had been stirring around inside my stomach had disappeared. With my new look and persona, I felt like I could take on the world. Maybe this new found personality and appearance made me feel extremely daring because I did something the old me would have never dreamed of doing.

I stole from my mother.

I crept downstairs, dragging my burden behind me. The house was quiet and still, so Mum hadn't returned from wherever she had stormed off to. I'd stuffed my trouser pockets with all the savings I had in my piggy bank, but it wasn't nearly enough to support myself until I could find a proper job. I tiptoed out into the hallway and spotted my mother's purse on the table by the telephone, completely unattended. I hesitated.

Picking up my mother's purse and taking money out of it made me feel like the most dishonest person in the world. Then I remembered that she was the one who kicked me out, so this was what she deserved. I pinched nearly thirty pounds of Mum's money, convincing myself that she wasn't going to miss it, but I still worried.

My pockets were bulging with money. My suitcase was stuffed with clothes and other bits. My guitar was hanging from my back. My heart was full of guilt and worry, pounding away in my chest like a drum. Despite all of this I felt like a large weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I had always been such a doormat when I lived at home, and my mother took full advantage of it. Yelling at her like I did felt both terrifying and fantastic, and I certainly don't regret doing it.

I opened the door and stepped out into the cool evening air. It felt wonderful to have the wind blowing in my face, almost like God Himself was breathing new life into me. I had a new personality; I had a new look; I had a new purpose in life. I was going become the biggest rock star the 60s would ever see.

I turned to close the door and lock it. I stared at the house key in my hand for a moment, then I hurled far away into the distance. I didn't need a key anymore. That house wasn't my home anymore. I wasn't ever going to return.

I took a deep breath and started along down the road, feeling as light as a bubble and as free as a bird.