Sara took my hand and suggested we go back to our table and rest. I really did not like having to yell for Sara to hear me, and to hear her I had to remove the ear plugs I had inserted, but soon I was able to understand what she was saying. In a few minutes a couple of Chinese guys came up and asked if they could buy us drinks but Sara just turned away from the one asking and ignored him until they both left. She made a crude joke about size mattering and then suggested we leave.
When we finally left we were covered in sweat but the cold air outside quickly took away the excess body heat. We flagged a cab and went back to the hotel – I was surprised that it was already 1am but I was totally awake due to the caffeine and work-out I had received.
As Sara walked over to her overnight bag she asked if I had enjoyed myself that evening. I had to admit it was different – in a good way. She smiled and then came up to me with her hands behind her back. She then asked, “What is so special about this weekend?” I did not have an answer except maybe it was Valentines Day. She perked up, “That’s right! Here, I hope you like it!” I opened up the little package and inside it was a beautiful blue crystal rose. She explained it was made in Sweden and she had found it in a special shop that sold items from Scandinavia.
I thanked her as she slowly took the rose out of my hand and sat it on the table. “I am really glad you liked it. I bought one just like it you know. I really appreciate having you as my best friend.” She then put her arms around me. We held each other for a moment but when it felt as if she were relaxing to release me I pulled her closer. I had not been held for such a long time I did not want to let go. A moment later we looked at each other without saying a word. I was starting to get nervous – where was this leading? She answered that question when she moved closer and kissed me on my lips.
At first I was not at all sure what to do. She continued the kiss but it was hard to determine her intentions as it felt more intense than two friends might share but less than the intimacy of lovers. I decided to let her take the lead. She pulled back a bit and whispered, “Is it okay?” I answered, “Yes” and this time she left no doubts in my mind as to what her intentions were. We held the intensity of that kiss as we both sat at the foot of the bed. She was quite passionate and lost in the moment – I opened my eyes to see her expression, her eyes were closed and each time she pulled back slightly to catch her breath she had the most sensuous and sweet smile on her lips.
I would have been totally content to keep this going on forever but she soon gently pulled me down onto the bed. As we continued to show each other affection I wondered about the irony that our friendship had taken this turn. And while I had been kissed by two different male professors I had dated on occasion, it had never been in an intimate setting where it could lead to something else. I wondered about who I really was, especially as the passion progressed and we wound up undressed and under the covers.
I awoke the next morning in that state of mind where you are not totally aware of what went on the night before or where you are. It only took a second to become fully aware of where I was though. We were both nude and Sara, still asleep, was holding me with her arm and leg pinning me on my back. I struggled to stretch my neck to see the little alarm clock she had set on the nightstand – it was almost 10:30am. I let her sleep, as I enjoyed the warmth of her body snuggled up against mine. However, I was troubled with three questions – where did this leave Sara and I, what was going to happen now and who was I really?
The last question was the most disturbing. I had remembered what my mother had said when I was in high school in regards to sexual orientation – her hint that maybe I should be open to other possibilities. Then there was what she had said on Christmas. Of course there was also the memory that my only other experience with physical intimacy had been with Nicole. I did not feel like a lesbian but then again what is a lesbian supposed to feel like? Maybe the best thing would be to just see how things evolved – at the very least, if this was what it took to have closeness, to feel wanted, maybe I should have an open mind.
Around fifteen minutes later Sara woke up. She did not say anything at first…she merely tightened her body against mine. Then she poked her head at me, “Hello!” I laughed, “Well hello to you too sleepyhead.” She sighed and asked, “So you feel okay with...” she laughed, “…with everything last night?” I said I did. I took the initiative this time and asked, “Are you absolutely starving right now?” She said, “Not really, I usually skip breakfast.” I laughed and said, “Who said anything about breakfast?” We got around to going out for food sometime around dinner and by that time we had certainly worked up an appetite together.
So that is how my relationship started with Sara. To say it was conventional would surly miss the mark in several ways. For one thing, obviously, we were both of the same gender which I doubt will ever truly be considered conventional. The other aspect was that for the first month and a half we were together we were not really together. We did the same things we had done before, study together, debate, go for walks or leisurely bike rides in the rain, Seattle has more rain than Portland after all, and talk endlessly. The only difference was we spent a lot of our free time in each other’s beds. I suppose we had established a “friends with benefits” relationship as neither of us seemed willing to touch on our actual status as partners.
We had discussed how we would spend our spring break. I thought hiking and camping might be fun since it was not so cold, but Sara wanted to visit San Francisco. I gave in since she was so intent that she volunteered to drive the 14 hours there. When the day arrived to take off to California we did what we always did – talk. This time, however, Sara did not bring up anything she heard on the news or some article she had read, rather she asked me to tell her about my life – from the earliest memory I had to the present day. She promised to do the same afterwards. I told her of my childhood, my family situation, and later the events in high school – the official version, not total reality. Yet for some reason I mentioned Mark by his first name and said he had been an inspiration to me. She asked if it was common to call a teacher by his first name – she said they did that in Sweden but was under the impression it was considered disrespectful in America. I admitted that we had a unique friendship and I would never forget him. I said of all men I had ever met he was special to me. I think she must have also noticed how sad I was when I told her how he died.
She said the thought of having a serial killer loose in a school, and his killing one teacher before the other killed him was unthinkable. She asked if I had been a wreck after loosing three of my teachers, including one I felt so close to, but I shrugged my shoulders and told her I was a survivor. Just then she took an exit – she said we needed gas but that she wanted to tell me something. We pulled off the road and she parked the car.
Sara told me about her childhood, the two guys she had dated – each for a little over a year and even her having what she called mini-relationships with two of her female friends. She said it was not all that uncommon for Swedish young people to have three or four major relationships before settling down in their late 20s. She thought it was healthy while I thought it was sort of like getting married and divorced multiple times before you hit 30. It was then that she stated, “Melanie, I compared how I felt about men and women. The two women I have dated with were both what I would call dependent and needy, but I felt more whole when I was with them than I did with the men. I guess what I am trying to say is that I really believe I am a lesbian.” She looked at me a second as I struggled to come up with a reply. Finally I joked, “So that explains what we wind up doing in bed so often!” We both laughed and she replied, “We are going to have a great vacation!” At that she started the car and we were off. I cannot explain why but the subject quickly changed to what things we should visit in the city. Maybe the ice had been broken, or maybe we were both unwilling to take a chance on losing what we had at that moment. It was late in the evening when we neared San Francisco. We decid
ed to find a motel and start our sight-seeing the next day.
Sara and I took the subway into town – I mentioned it was the first time I had ridden in a subway which amazed Sara since she said she did that everyday growing up in Stockholm. We planned to start with the downtown area and go to Chinatown, the Warf, and at some point ride out to Alcatraz. Sara commented on the cosmopolitan flavor of the city and said the ethnic diversity and openness to alternative lifestyles reminded her of Amsterdam. Then, as we were scanning out some cafes to stop at for a snack, or what she called “fika” two guys hugged and kissed before one jumped into a cab. Sara smiled and said, “This is a place we can be a bit more open than Seattle I suppose, especially since nobody knows us here” and at that she hugged me and gave me a long, passionate kiss. At first I was a bit annoyed since I did not like public displays of affection, but I did enjoy breaking what, to me I guess, was a taboo. Surprisingly, when I opened my eyes to look around nobody at all was staring at us. Even as we sat down at a table to eat she took my hand across the table and it seemed perfectly natural. After that we held hands most of the time we explored the city.
The next day Sara asked if we could go to the Golden Gate Bridge. It was an amazing day – for a while even the fog lifted and gave us a wonderful view. Then Sara uttered those words I had heard most guys dread to hear, “We need to talk.”
We found a bench overlooking the park. There was a slight wind but the sun was out. Sara and I sat down and she put her arm around my shoulder and said, “Melanie, I absolutely love your company – I never bore of you at all. I was wondering, you are my girlfriend, right?” I nodded my head and said, “Well obviously!” She seemed to try to clarify, “No, I mean you and I...you know, we are a couple, right?” I said of course but I maybe was a bit nervous in the way I answered her. She took my hand and sighed, “Okay, Melanie, I have to ask, does it make you feel awkward being in a lesbian relationship?” I am not sure why but I responded, “Well, I would not really say ‘lesbian’ but…” Sara pounced on that, “Well what would you call it then?” I did not really have the answer to that. She continued, “Melanie, maybe you are feeling kind of strange with labels but so was I – that is why I told you what I did in the car. I really truly believe I love you.” When she said that I looked at her and gently kissed her, “I love you too Sara.” The direction of the next question caught me off guard though, “Melanie, this teacher you said you liked – did you love him? Did you two ever, well, you know?” I admitted I had loved him but we had never done anything physical. She continued, “And you say you have had a sexual relationship with a female friend?” I nodded as I looked intently in her eyes. She smiled and stated, “And you once told me what you looked for in a guy – my God, there may be two or three men in this whole city, or even this whole state, that could live up to your criteria. Have you ever considered that your heart might realize what your mind refuses to acknowledge? Have you considered that you might have been in love with this teacher exactly because he was unattainable?”
I could not believe it, she was doing psychoanalysis on me – I wanted to hear more! She speculated, “You have not set impossible criteria for your past girlfriend or for me – only men. Maybe your sub conscious mind refuses to acknowledge that you are actually pushing away men and prefer women. You know what that means?”
I froze in self analysis at that moment. Could it be true? According to traditional psychoanalytic thought it just might – abandoned by my father at a critical stage, identification with my mother but also a symbiotic dependence between us – while I had always recognized the dynamics I never felt it this way in my gut. Could Nicole have sensed it in high school? Maybe even the female professor in my department who, since inviting me on that retreat, always had a big smile for me? Then of course the thought of the people I had killed came to mind. I had taken the lives of two women with my own hands – and each time I felt a bond with them – with Cindy that was natural, but even with my first victim I had felt a certain closeness. However, the two men I had killed I had taken pleasure in making them suffer. Could this also be a clue in unlocking my true sub conscious feelings?
I replied, “Well, Sara that certainly is food for thought. I mean, I don’t know!” She gently pulled me over so that leaning on her lap and looking at her. She said, “Believe me, I know and you will too” and she pulled me towards her and gave me a kiss that conveyed love in a way no words could ever have expressed. In a few minutes we stopped and looked at each other and I promised, “Let me run this through my mind a little, okay?” She asked me to take all the time I wanted.
The next couple of days we explored the city and I attempted to analyze my sexuality. I had never really known what it was like to express myself physically with another person in public – I found it refreshing as my inhibitions melted. As I observed other female couples I began to feel more at ease, more like this could actually be a path I could take and find happiness in. In fact Sara and I checked out a lesbian bar – of course she tried to get me to taste alcohol but I refused. I joked, “Okay, you may win in changing the way I see myself, but you will not get me drinking.” She laughed and we spent the next couple of hours slow dancing. Of course I could not help but analyze the other women there. I found it interesting that most of the couples consisted of one woman who would look somewhat tomboyish, whether they had ultra-short hair or not, and one who would look cute and feminine. It gave me reason to believe that even in same-sex couples people desired the duality of what might be called differing gender roles.
That observation could be applied to our relationship as well. The next day Sara offered to take me shopping. We checked out some clothing stores and while in one store Sara noticed a pretty black skirt with a matching red blouse. She asked me to try the outfit on so I obliged her. Once I changed I looked in the mirror and immediately thought I looked like some British schoolgirl caricature. Sara asked me to come out and show her, and when I did she responded, “How sweet! I love how you look in it. Don’t you like it?” I looked in the mirror, tried to pull the skirt lower and replied, “Don’t you think it looks as if I should be licking a lollypop and have my hair in ponytails?” She laughed, “No, it looks good on you – and not in some obscene way, although it would not hurt you to show off a little more. If you got it why not flaunt it?”
I smiled as she again asked me to change back and that she would buy the outfit for me. I laughed and said, “Okay, as long as you get something for yourself as well.” She said she would and so after she paid for the clothes we went to another store. It was trendy, with flashing lights and techno in the background. It took little time before Sara found a leather jacket and tried it on. I liked it – it was brown and thin, dressy, but not in the least “girly.” She asked how I liked it and I sighed, “So let’s see…I guess this means you will be the man and me the woman in this relationship.” She took my hand and whispered in my ear, “I think its called butch and femme, so maybe…I don’t know. I am not cutting my hair short though.” I gave her a peck on the cheek and said, “That’s good.”
While we were walking through the old residential district, where the houses are close together on rolling hillsides, I took notice of several instances of female couples with young children. I finally asked Sara, “What do you think of same-sex parents?” She quickly replied, “As long as they love their kids I think it is great!” I stopped and asked, “What about you personally, would you consider it?” She nodded her head and replied, “Sure, I cannot see myself never having a baby. How about you, how do you feel?” I gave her a hug and said, “I would like to have more than one!” She replied, “That could work – we could both have a baby and then we have two kids. I would like that.” She did not seem to catch what I said, that I would personally like to have several children, but I figured that was something best left for the future.
On the last day before going back to Seattle we were eating in a nice restaurant overlooking the bay and I asked Sara what was next.
She wondered what I meant and I said that now we were officially a couple then what should we do. Sara then said, “Well, we could start with me meeting your mother – then we can go to Sweden and meet my parents this summer. They would love to meet you since I have been telling them about you so much.” Well, that was something I had not thought of, meeting my mom. Several months ago I was a lonely heterosexual woman and now I was contemplating “coming out” to my mom with my Swedish girlfriend? I had not really given my mom a thought, but it seemed that was something I could not hide from her. I tried to think of different scenarios of how to tell her about Sara, but each time I was left with a strange feeling that I would not ever have to face this ordeal. I figured this was all due to fear – not that she would freak out, quite the opposite…she would probably be overjoyed. I guess that sort of bugged me more than if she would react with hostility.
The last day we were in town I asked if maybe we could take the coastal highway home. I wanted to see the redwoods, but Sara said she needed to get some project completed. I was disappointed but gave in. She then promised to take me back to San Francisco and on that trip we would check out some nature. However, as we were getting dressed to leave Sara shook her head and commented as I slipped my jeans on, “Melanie, when the summer fashions come out we need to check into getting you a fashion make-over. You have a pretty body and need to wear things that are more stylish for women.” I sighed, “You just want to show me off, right?” She replied, “Would that be so wrong?” We began to kiss but she looked at her watch and commented, “I would love to spend the afternoon here with you but we need to check out before 11am, and I have work due tomorrow.” I reluctantly gave in and soon we were on our way back to Seattle.
Melanie's Awakening Page 4
