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The make-up artist departs, having just applied the finishing touches to Gerard’s face. Mikey approaches the mirror where his brother is seated in front of, who gets up and turns towards him. The singer's skin has a peach complexion, and his lips are given a pink gloss. For the concert tonight, he is wearing a white button-up shirt with a red necktie; a black skirt, nylon pantyhose and a small pair of leather boots.
“How do I look?” Gerard asks, outstretching his arms to present himself.
It is the first time Mikey has seen this particular attire–for the past shows of the tour, the bassist had performed while his brother belted out the numbers, wearing various outfits and costumes. Sometimes, it was casual wear with a plain shirt and camouflage jacket; other times, it would be something more outlandish, like a bright yellow clown suit. He noticed how much freer Gerard seemed when he first donned the green and white cheerleading outfit; how he marched and jumped around the stage, most likely feeling the cool air on his bare and freshly-shaved legs.
Mikey recalls how he laughed with his brother as he recounted how he walked around his college campus in drag without anyone batting an eye. When Mikey visited Gerard's dorm, he burst into laughter upon the first sight of him in such a get-up, but it was not mean-spirited, nor did Gerard appear hurt or uncomfortable by his reaction. Having experimented with their mother’s lipstick as a teenager, Gerard began buying and doing his own make-up with powder, eyeliner and eyeshadow. Alongside were a pair of pantyhose and platform heels.
Any insults the teenaged Mikey may have hurled, they were not meant to be malicious. “Nice dress. Did ya steal that from mom, too?”
Gerard blushed, chortling, “Shut up.”
Mikey thought that Gerard’s flushed cheeks made him all the more endearing. He would even help sometimes by reviewing Gerard’s looks, if he felt like dressing up for the day. Underneath his frock would be a jacket or scarf to hide his lack of a woman's chest, and occasionally, he decided to wrap his relatively short hair around a head scarf.
“I don’t know anything about make-up,” Mikey said while seated on the bed with comic books, “but I do agree that you look like a pretty girl.” This made Gerard beam, before walking over to the mirror to re-check himself. “Wow,” Mikey observed, “you can really walk in those heels. Do they hurt?”
“It did, at first. But I had time to practice and break them in when no one else was around.” Gerard shrugged, a hand on his cocked hip. “I wanted these specifically,” he dug the tip of his platform shoe into the carpet, “because the heels weren't super thin or high. That way, I wouldn't have much trouble falling over. It was nothing, compared to nicking myself when shaving my legs.”
“Well,” Mikey prompted with a grin, “let’s see if you can fool your peers once again.”
“Just keep in mind that I shouldn't open my mouth.”
Mikey pondered. “Nah. Your voice isn't super deep. You might even trick them with that.”
Gerard shook his head. “Not worth the risk.”
Almost twenty years ago, Gerard grew his hair out, having it frame his rounded face, as he continued with the make-up. Upon revealing the lipstick incident, Ray light-heartedly scolded him that it was wrong. Gerard gleefully reminisced, “I was definitely into it,” thinking how he looked like the self-proclaimed “sweet transvestite” villain from The Rocky Horror Picture Show.
They were all blatant signs to how there was something a little feminine about Gerard. Their father was not traditionally masculine, and his values about kindness, respect and confidence were passed down to his two sons. Both Mikey and Gerard were shy young men who could be very sweet to whichever girl caught their interest. It turns out Gerard identified with the opposite gender in a way, and, thanks to his upbringing, where he was encouraged to embrace his authentic self, dared to express himself as such.
Now, Mikey answers his brother’s question in approval. “You look like yourself.”
“Yeah?” With a widened smile, Gerard turns and takes a few steps across the dressing room, his hips sashaying–the sight making Mikey stifle a giggle. Turning back around, Gerard walks like a runway model, the soles of his boots clacking on the hard surface. “Don't I pass for a pretty schoolgirl?”
“You absolutely do–and a beautiful one, at that.”
Gerard chuckles, “Thank you.” He brings his arms around Mikey, and they share an embrace–one of love, acceptance and gratitude.
“Aww!” Mikey hears his wife and sister-in-law voice together. Still squeezing Gerard’s back, he opens his eyes to see, from a few feet away, Kristin with her mobile phone held in front of her, having recorded the moment.