by Lyn Gardner
“Did you ever, for one minute, think your mother didn’t have your courage?”
“This isn’t about courage.”
“It sure the hell is!” Judy shouted. “Tell me you didn’t come out knowing you’d face some of what you just described. That it wasn’t a surprise, sprung on you after the fact.”
“Of course, it wasn’t.”
“And telling your mother? Didn’t that take courage?”
“No, it didn’t, or at least not as much as you think,” Robin said, placing her hands on her hips. “I knew she loved me. Yeah, I was a little worried that I was somehow going to disappoint her, but I was never scared of telling her. She raised me to be honest and never to be afraid of who I was. I never saw her once judge anyone, so I knew she wasn’t going to judge me.”
“But you’re judging her.”
“That’s different.”
“No, it’s not. It’s the same thing, except your mother accepted your sexuality, and you can’t accept hers.”
“That’s because I didn’t lie about it!”
Judy’s lungs emptied. “Robin, people lie. They lie for all kinds of reasons. Can you honestly stand there and say you’ve never lied?”
As Robin’s cheeks reddened, she lowered her chin to her chest. “Of course not.”
“And why did you do it?”
“What?”
“Why did you lie? Why didn’t you just tell the truth?” Judy waited for Robin to answer, but when she didn’t, Judy did. “I’ll tell you why. It’s because you didn’t want to face the consequences if you spoke it, and that’s exactly what your mother did for probably the same reason. It’s called fear. Maybe, growing up, she had to listen to her friends bash gays, and she didn’t want to be on the receiving end of their ignorance. Did you ever think of that? Maybe she went to church every Sunday and was forced to listen as the pastor spewed hatred supposedly based on passages of the Bible, except they had been edited by his own warped perspective. Did you ever think of that? And maybe your mom grew up in a home filled with homophobes, and if she ever had spoken the truth, if she ever had found the courage, she would have been ostracized, losing everything she held dear. Did you ever think of that?"
“My grandparents weren’t like that.”
“How do you know? You were a child when they died. You have no idea how your mother was brought up. You have no idea what she went through.”
“You’re right. I don’t,” Robin said, folding her arms. “But let me tell you what I do know. I am sick and tired of being lied to. Pam almost destroyed me with hers, and now my mother is doing the same from the grave, and I’m done being gutted by people I thought I could trust. It fucking hurts too much.” Robin brushed away the tears rolling down her cheeks. “I’m done believing anyone, Judy. I’m done trusting anyone. I’m done assuming there’s good in people when all I keep seeing is bad. You stand there, and you try to defend her. You say it was the way she was raised. I call that an excuse, not a reason. You say she was scared. I say fuck being scared. I was her daughter. If she loved me, she should have trusted me because if you love someone, you don’t lie to them. You don’t concoct stories, pretending you’re something that you’re not because it’s convenient, because it’s easier. Life is not easy.”
“I doubt your mother would say her life was easy, but it was her life, Robin. Not yours.”
“And from where I’m standing, she wasted it, and for what? For what? For a few weeks every year where, behind closed doors and shuttered windows, she could be herself? Sneaking down back stairs, dating men, and lying to her daughter. What kind of fucking life is that? Who the fuck would want to live like that?”
“Stop judging her! What gives you the right to say how people should live their lives?”
“She was my mother!”
“And it was her life. Why can’t you see that? Why does this have to be all about you? Sure, you’re hurt. Sure, you’re confused, but goddamn it, Robin, your mother made a choice, and right or wrong, good or bad, it was her choice to make. You need to respect that, and you also need to start practicing what you preach.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Whatever happened to you owning your emotions, Robin, because from where I’m standing, they’ve been owning you for days. You’ve been acting like a spoiled child—”
“You need to leave,” Robin said, fisting her hands.
“Robin—”
“You seriously need to leave right now!” Robin said, brushing away more tears. “You don’t understand, Judy. You are so clueless. This goes against everything I thought she was, everything I thought she stood for...and it hurts.”
“Robin, I know it does.”
“You—know—nothing!” Robin screamed, waving her arms about.
Judy’s heart was hammering in her chest as she reached around to untie the string of her apron. A cyclone filled with Robin’s words, Robin’s pain, and Robin’s points spun in Judy’s mind while she fumbled with the knot until it came free.
She was equally as culpable as Pam and Constance. Time had been wasted, and untruths had been told, and excuses were not reasons. They were merely lies Judy had told herself to get through the days, the weeks, and the years. Fabrications to blend and belong, she believed they’d give her peace, but instead, they became her prison. Walls thick with echoing voices, mortar made of false scripture, and barred windows draped with viewpoints unfounded, uneducated, and unfair had kept her captive and apathetic for far too long. Judy knew the consequences in facing her demons. It would destroy their friendship, and prove to Robin that still another had deceived her, but Robin was right. In friendship and in love...there was no place for lies.
“I know more than you think,” Judy said, and neatly folding her apron, she placed it on the counter. “I know you were wearing a short, dark blue skirt with a jacket to match. They both had wide silver zippers running down the fronts, and I know your boots were suede and lined with fleece. It showed through at the stitching, and I know…and I know the turtleneck you had on was the same color as that fleece.”
Robin’s mouth went slack. “What in the hell are you talking about?” she said, flinching back her head. “You’re not making any sense.”
“You don’t get it?” Judy said, her voice quivering with emotion. “It’s what you were wearing on the last day of school before winter break. The last day we saw each other, the last day we spoke. You stand there in all your righteousness shouting your mother should have told you the truth, shouting that all you want is the truth, well, how’s this for truth, Robin? You were the reason I left Heritage. You were the reason I married Scott.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Rita looked up from the book in her lap when she heard the doorbell ring. She glanced at her watch before setting aside the novel and making her way to the front door.
As soon as Rita opened the door, her eyes began to sparkle. “This is a surprise,” she said, seeing Judy standing on the porch. “What are you doing out and about on this chilly autumn night?”
“Sorry, I would have called, but I left my phone at Robin’s,” Judy whispered. “Can I come in?”
“Since when do you need to ask?” Rita stepped away from the door, her smile slowly vanishing as she watched Judy shuffle into the house with her head bowed. Rita eyed her friend up and down, and then she noticed what Judy was carrying. “And I see you come bearing gifts. What’s the occasion?”
“Is Hank home?”
“Yeah, he’s in the den watching TV. Why? Do you need him?”
“No,” Judy said, staring at the floor. “I just...I just need to...to talk to you.”
“All right. Let’s go into the living—”
“No. Can we...uh...can we go somewhere else? Somewhere private. The Man Cave?”
Rita angled back in her stance as even the most delicate lines in her face deepened. “Yeah, sure. Just let me go grab my coat.”
“Okay.”
***
>
It wasn’t a cave, and it wasn’t only for men, but the Man Cave was what Rita affectionately called Hank’s workshop. Located at the far end of their backyard, it was filled with gardening and woodworking tools, and it was where Hank liked to spend his days in the winter.
The walk through the house and yard happened in silence, and along the way, Rita gave Judy a dozen side-eyed glances. Like most, Judy had her moods and Rita thought she’d seen them all, but this one was new. This one was different.
This wasn’t frustration, for Rita had seen that when Judy had dealt with customers returning bikes abused by carelessness. This wasn’t annoyance. Rita had witnessed that numerous times over the years as Judy tried to put up with a husband who had never grown up. Cranky didn’t fit either. Her friend was past the age where cramps came to call, and although Rita had only seen it once, she knew this wasn’t anger. Anger was a wife erupting when she found out about her husband’s affairs, and Judy wasn’t erupting. Her expression was blank, closed, and passive. It held no clues, yet the vacancy of emotion was a clue in and of itself. What could have drained Judy to this point?
When they reached the shed, Rita turned on the light, and as Judy followed her inside, Rita reached up and turned on the forced-air electric heater mounted to the ceiling joists. “It shouldn’t take long to warm up in here.”
Rita pulled out two stools, wiping the sawdust from the top of both before offering one to Judy, but instead, Judy went over and hopped up on a workbench, setting the six-pack of hard cider down next to her.
For a minute, the only sound to be heard was the air blowing from the heater. One woman was eyeing the other, waiting for her to speak, while the other seemed a million miles away.
“Are you okay, Judy?” Rita said softly.
“No,” Judy said, shaking her head. “Not really.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Judy sniffled and shook her head again. “I do...and I don’t.” Pulling two bottles from the six-pack, she offered one to Rita.
“Thanks,” Rita said, unscrewing the cap.
“You’re welcome.”
Rita took a sip of her drink and then noticed the label. “I didn’t know Doud’s sold this.”
“They don’t. I bought a couple of packs today in Lansing.”
“Lansing? What the hell were you doing all the way down there?”
“I was on my way home until I realized showing up without any luggage would lead to lots of questions. Coming back here was the lesser of two evils.”
“The lesser of two evils? Judy, what in the world is going on? You love this island.”
Judy lowered her chin to her chest. “Yeah, but I ruined it. I ruined everything.”
“How?”
“I did something...something really stupid. Something I can’t take back. Something she’ll never be able to forgive me for.”
Rita’s eyes narrowed as she looked at Judy. “By she, should I assume you mean Robin?”
“Yeah.”
Judy’s voice was barely audible over the stillness of the shed, and Rita’s eyebrows became one for a long moment until relaxing easily back into place. “I have to say, this is a really interesting choice,” Rita said, looking at the bottle again. “I think the last time I saw you drink this stuff was the night of the party. You know, the one Hank and I threw for you and Scott after you got married?”
“Is it? I don’t remember.”
A ghost of a grin appeared on Rita’s face. “I’m not surprised. It was the first and last time I ever saw you get drunk. I mean, I’ve been around you when you’ve been buzzed, but that night...that night you were downright shit-faced.”
“So what? It was a long time ago, and it was a party. I wanted to unwind.”
“Well, you sure as hell did that,” Rita said with a laugh. “And I have to tell you, up until then, I would have never labeled you as a magpie, but you were that night. Lord, have mercy. Going on and on about how stern and strict your father was and how overbearing your brothers were.”
“Well, other than Dad being dead, the rest hasn’t changed,” Judy said, and bringing the bottle to her lips, she chugged down a few gulps.
“Yep, you were quite the Chatty Cathy,” Rita said, before taking another sip of her drink. “And we even ended up out here, just like we are tonight, except back then you were the one doing all the talking, and I was the one doing all the listening.”
“Times change.”
Rita fixed her eyes solely on Judy. “Yes, they do,” she said quietly. “Because back then I thought the student you had fallen in love with was a boy...not a girl.”
Judy was about to have more of her drink, but the bottle never reached her lips. For a few seconds, she remained motionless and then her hand began to tremble. Barely managing to set the bottle down before she burst into tears, Judy covered her mouth as she tried to stifle her sobs. “No. No. No. No. No!”
Rita jumped to her feet and rushing over, she wrapped her arms around her wailing friend. “Judy, it’s all right. Please don’t cry. It’s all right.”
“No, it’s not,” Judy said through a strangled sob. “You must think I’m some sort of...some sort of pervert, some fucking pedophile.”
“I don’t think that,” she said, holding Judy tightly. “I don’t think that at all, Judy. Please, please believe me. I never once thought that.”
“How could you not?” Judy said, pushing Rita away. “How could you fucking not?”
“Because I know you too well,” Rita said with a snicker. “And that night...that night you kept saying over and over again that this Robin was eighteen, and eighteen doesn’t make you a pedophile.”
“But she was my student.”
“Did something happen?”
“No. I swear to God nothing happened, Rita. Nothing happened.”
“And that’s exactly what you told me that night. Actually, you said it about a million times if I’m not mistaken.”
“I was telling you the truth.”
Rita placed her hands on Judy’s shoulders. “I never doubted you were telling the truth, but Judy something had to happen for you to...for you to quit your job and marry Scott.”
Judy took a deep breath, her lungs emptying in a whoosh a moment later. “I don’t even know how to explain it. I just know that from the moment I saw her on that first day of school, I couldn’t get her out of my head.” Judy paused and then looked at Rita. “Have you ever seen one of those photos they take nowadays where everything is black-and-white except for one thing? It could be a person or a flower.”
“Sure.”
“That’s what it was like. I walked into that classroom, and everything went gray, except for Robin. She was sitting in the front row with perfect posture and the most amazing smile I’d ever seen, and all the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. It was the weirdest feeling.”
“And then what happened?”
“Nothing,” Judy said with a shrug. “School started. The kids went to their classes. I went to mine, and I didn’t see her until the next morning. I showed up early to get some paperwork filled out, and when I walked into my room, she was already there, sitting at her desk bent over a book. We got to talking. Nothing serious, just mindless chit-chat, but I enjoyed every second of it, and it wasn’t long before I was getting to work early every day, just in case she’d be there. And then one day I woke up and the first thing I thought of was her...and that’s the way it’s stayed.”
“And that’s what convinced you to change your entire life?”
Judy bowed her head. “No,” she whispered. “As the weeks went on, I found myself thinking about her all the time. I’d be reading a book and wonder if she’d like it. I’d be watching a movie and wonder if she would laugh at the same places I laughed, and when I went shopping, I’d see something in a store window, and I’d picture Robin wearing it.” Judy looked Rita in the eye. “I want you to know that my...that my thoughts weren’t dirty or...or anything like that.
They were just...thoughts.”
“But?”
“But on the last day of school before Christmas break, she came into homeroom wearing an outfit I had never seen before. She looked really nice, and I told her that. She turned and smiled that...that damn, wonderful smile of hers, and she said ‘Thanks. It’s my birthday suit,’ and in that instant, everything changed. She meant it as a joke, and she explained it was a birthday present, but my thoughts, my mind, my feelings were no longer platonic. And at that moment, I knew I had to get away from her. She was a student. I was a teacher. It wasn’t right, and I wasn’t going to allow something I had buried to rise again.”
Rita’s eyebrows became one again. “What the hell does that mean?”
“What do you think it means?” Judy said, locking eyes with Rita. “You know about my father. You know about my brothers.”
“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Rita said, rocking back on her heels. “How long have you—”
“Early teens,” Judy said, shrugging.
“So, you’ve lived a lie practically your entire life?”
Judy flinched. They were the same words Robin had shouted over and over that morning. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“Of course you had a choice!”
Judy’s head snapped back. “Really? What kind of choice did I have? Every time there was a news story about gays being killed or beaten, my father would bellow ‘good riddance!’ When Harvey Milk was assassinated, he threw a goddamned party because there was one less faggot on the planet. His words, not mine. People were getting beaten, brutalized or killed, all because they were gay, and you have the gall to stand there and say I had a choice?”
“Judy, I’m—”
“You grew up in a world that didn’t give you a second glance walking down the street with Hank. You grew up in a world that applauded your wedding, your children...your life. You grew up in a world protected simply because you fit the norm, but yeah, I had a choice. I could either fit in or risk being beaten by my father or disowned by my family. Tell me, Rita, just how easy of a choice do you think that is?”
