Psyche Moon

by Chrissie Buhr

  I’ve never seen an aura in my life, and emotions were child’s play. The past and the future held no interest to me personally, and I’d never had reason to look for that in someone else. I didn’t honestly know if I could do it. I’d never met anyone who could do what I could.

  I’ve never known a time when I couldn’t read a thought as clearly as hear a voice. But it was the least of my capabilities. If I wanted to I could reach deep into a person’s mind and see anything I desired. At one point in my life, I had abused that ability, scaring and violating the people around me. I had even controlled a person’s actions. I’ve seen the damage I could wield, and I vowed long ago never to abuse it again. I haven’t.

  What Billie did, sending a thought to me … I couldn’t comprehend how that was possible. She wasn’t like me, and as far as I could tell, she wasn’t even a psychic. Puzzled, I wanted to dig inside and drag it out of her mind, but I knew I never would. I almost asked her – I desperately wanted to – but I couldn’t have that conversation. I wouldn’t drive Billie away, so I simply stored the information away.

  Returning my thoughts to the present, I noticed Billie neither expected nor wanted a response to her confession. She considered the conversation done for the moment. Which was good, because it meant my hesitation didn’t bother her. Her words made sense, though I wondered how many fights she’d actually been in.

  “What do you do for a living, Sadie?” Her need for silence ended, and she reached out for me again.

  Happy for the shift of thought, I told her. “I work at Lydd’s Warehouse. Started as a pick-packer three years ago and now I supervise one of the shifts.”

  She nodded. “Do you like it?”

  “It’s okay. It’s a good job just not very fulfilling.”

  “Ever thought about college?”

  “I’m not really the college type.” That had been my standard answer for many years, but she didn’t have the same response as most.

  She grinned. “Few people are. But they go anyway.”

  She didn’t bring it up condescendingly as some people do, but the question bothered me a bit anyway. Sighing, I tried to explain. “I’ve thought about it. It would be nice to actually do something with my life, but I don’t think I’m cut out for it. I didn’t exactly do well in high school.”

  “You’re older now.” She glanced at me, raising a red eyebrow.

  “True, but I don’t even know what I would study.”

  “That’s part of the point of going – figuring out what interests you. I didn’t go to college to be an accountant; I found it while I was there. In my family it was expected, so I never questioned that I would go. I’m glad I did.”

  I thought about my own family, who had had the same expectations. Until they disowned me and decided they didn’t care. “My parents always wanted me to be something.”

  She obviously didn’t like that comment. “Hmmm. To me college isn’t about being someone, it’s about the process of getting there.” I didn’t understand and said so. “It’s hard to explain. You work for years to accomplish a goal, and in the end they give you a piece of paper to frame and impress people. But with a four year degree you’re not an expert at anything, so what’s the point? The point is you did it, it’s something you earned. Most employers who ask for a degree are looking more at your determination than your knowledge.”

  I hadn’t thought about it that way before. Ruminating over that for a moment, it did make sense. “In the warehouse, when we’re looking for a new supervisor we promote from within. And one of the most important things we look at is length of employment. Someone who’s stuck with us for years is more likely to stay and do the job right.”

  “Exactly. What interests you? Hobbies?”

  Other than reading minds? I thought about it. “Nature, animals. Hiking and exploring. I don’t want to be a vet, so it just doesn’t seem like a career path. What am I going to do, climb a mountain for a living?”

  Amusement crossed the front of her mind, and her face lit up in a smile. Her eyes sparkled alluringly. “Sure. Environmental Conservation, Forest Service, Wildlife Management. You love it out here. Why not help preserve it?” I hadn’t quite thought about it that way, though I should have. “Remember your concern when you didn’t see squirrels?”

  “It’s a thought.” It was a thought I’d never had before. I knew people managed these mountains, but I’d never considered joining them. I’d thought of them as pencil pushers and bureaucrats, but it dawned on me that they needed first-hand observation in order to know what to do.

  “I’m not telling you what you should do; everyone needs to follow their own path in life. There’s nothing wrong with working in a warehouse if that’s what you want. But don’t sell yourself short.”

  With Billie beside me, the world seemed full of possibilities – new adventures, new worlds, new beginnings. “It would be nice not to live in a cave.”

  “Hey, I’ve spent some quality time in surprisingly comfortable caves.” Despite the amusement, she was dead serious. “Let’s stop in Idaho City for dinner.” She was already turning towards town.

  “You’re hungry? After all that food? I don’t think I’ll eat for a week, and you ate a lot more than I did.” Granted, a few hours had passed, but still.

  Shrugging, she admitted freely, “I eat a lot.”

  “How do you stay so skinny?” It didn’t seem fair that I had to watch every bite that crossed my lips while she could consume so much.

  “High metabolism, active life. And if you didn’t notice, we were kind of active today. My treat.”

  I sighed. “You’ve been treating me all day. I’m going to feel like you’re my sugar-momma soon.” I couldn’t help complaining, preferring a relationship to be balanced.

  “Don’t worry about it.” She must have read something on my expression, because she continued easily. “I’ve told you I’m observant, and I’ve made a few assumptions. Correct me if I’m wrong at any point. You came to your favorite bar for the first time in a year wearing twenty dollar jeans and a slightly faded shirt. I’m not complaining, you looked yummy. You live in a house that couldn’t cost more than $800 a month, drive a car worth not much more. Your kitchen table is not only old, it’s second-hand, and though your couch is cute and looks comfortable enough to fool around on, you’ve had it for a while.

  “You may not care about living rich, but you would replace your table at least if you had any money to spare. The scratches trap grime and you’re quite clean. I don’t care how old your car is or what your wardrobe costs. But I don’t want you to go broke trying to keep up with me. Especially the way I eat. I have money – I take home a good salary as an accountant and I’ve invested well. I have enough to spoil you the way I want to.” She said all of this matter-of-factly, and it was all true, though how she knew the table was second-hand was a mystery.

  She was right, though. I didn’t care about having the fancy house and new car (a reliable one would be nice), but certain things I did want. And didn’t buy because I barely had enough to pay my bills.

  Parking at a dingy bar and grill, she leaned over and kissed me. “Let me spoil you. You deserve it, and I’ll love it. Come on, I’m hungry.” Her stomach rumbled as if the comment excited it, and I just shook my head and grinned.

  Like all of the stores on Idaho City’s main strip, the restaurant was historical. Outside, the wood was either original or made to look so, giving the impression of a hundred year old building. It was probably older. Inside, the design mimicked the same style, though the “antique” tables and chairs were simply aged. The sign asked us to seat ourselves.

  Taking a table against the wall, we made ourselves comfortable. Pulling a chair out for me, Billie stole a kiss before she took the corner seat. This provided her with a clear view of the room, while I had to turn my head a bit to look around. That was fine with me. The place was nearly full this late on a Saturday summer evening. The waitress appeared harried and gave us a “be
with you in a moment” gesture.

  A middle aged man in an apron approached us almost immediately. Even before I looked at him, I could feel his hostility and stiffened, understanding immediately what was about to happen. Boise was pretty open and homophobes in customer service were expected to keep it to themselves. But it seemed the further you traveled away from Boise the more this happened. I braced myself for the encounter, unable to hide the stiffening in my muscles.

  His face twisted in a snarl, he clenched his fists at his side and rumbled. “You’re not welcome here.” Not a subtle man.

  Billie’s eyes narrowed as comprehension arose, along with a thread of anger, carefully controlled. “Excuse me?” Her voice, though polite, expressed her distaste.

  “I don’t want your kind in my restaurant. Go find somewhere else to eat.” He nodded his head toward the door and I was more than ready to leave.

  Billie’s face relaxed into casual politeness, but the anger beneath it didn’t recede. I doubted the man had a clue how pissed she was, considering how well as she contained it. “No, actually, I think we’re fine right here. Could we have a couple of menus?” She smiled without expressing any warmth.

  Raising his voice, a few patrons turned their heads, few of them noticing the situation prior to his outburst. “Are you deaf? Take your dyke asses out of my restaurant and go back to San Fransisco.” The room quieted, and the subversive hostility I felt around me left me short of breath. One man was prepared to back up the owner, and others were on the verge of speaking in our defense. Most were just upset we were spoiling their dinner or embarrassed at the scene.

  As was I. Shifting in my seat, preparing to stand and leave, Billie sent me a thought that kept me where I was. She had something up her sleeve. “No menus? Well, I would like a hamburger and fries. What are you having Sadie?”

  I didn’t want to eat at that establishment, all hunger lost in the confrontation in front of me and around me. Trying to mimic Billie’s tone, my voice still came out a bit shaky. “Just a beer. I’m not hungry.”

  “I’m not serving you.” He stood his ground, but so did Billie. My new girlfriend was stubborn.

  Looking directly into his eyes, challenging him, Billie said sweetly. “If you want to kick us out, you’ll have to ask the police to do it. If that happens, I will bury you in a lawsuit so deep you’ll be stuck under paperwork and lawyers for years. And in the end, I will own this restaurant.” She let that sink in for only a hairsbreadth of a moment. “If want to avoid that, all you have to do is bring us our food and beer.”

  The sneer that never left his face deepened. “Like you could.” Silently pulling a business card out of her leather wallet, she handed it over to him. He read it, flipped it over, and looked thoroughly confused. “So?”

  “Lorren, Volstein and Marks are the top civil attorneys in Idaho. I happen to be the accountant for their firm, and Richard Lorren happens to be one of my closest friends. He doesn’t practice much law these days, but he still enjoys giving it up the ass to bigots like you from time to time. And I’m sure he’d score points with his husband by taking on this particular case.” I hadn’t heard her cuss before in conversation, and even only a little in bed, which I liked. The effect of her proper speech, her deceptively sweet tone, and the addition of a few choice words my mother would have gone white to hear me say was impressive.

  The proprietor blanched, looking at the business card as if it would contaminate him and make him as gay as its origins.

  Billie’s anger hadn’t faded, but she knew she’d won the fight. The satisfaction in her mind didn’t show on her face. She spoke slowly, as if to a small child. “So. I would like a hamburger and fries, and my girlfriend here would enjoy a beer.”

  A muscle worked in his jaw as he contemplated for about ten seconds. “Fine.” I almost didn’t catch his response as he turned on his heels and left.

  Not entirely sure what just happened, I turned an incredulous look toward Billie. Her face was serene, but triumph filled the forefront of her mind, her anger quickly dissipating. “You don’t let anyone push you around.” I spoke softly, trying not to let anyone overhear.

  “Nope. And certainly not bigots like him.” She took my hand in hers and brought it to her lips in a simple kiss.

  “I would have just left. I’d rather not patronize a business who doesn’t want me.” That was how things were done, I thought. If they didn’t want ‘your kind’ around, you left and never came back. You spread the word, and others of ‘your kind’ plus friends and family didn’t either. You hit their pocketbooks and their reputation.

  Her smile wide and wicked, she replied. “I’d rather see them squirm while serving a dyke. If he thinks he’s better than us, it will drive him nuts. We have to stand up for ourselves in life, and this is my way of doing it. It’s sort of a dominance thing, telling them that I’m bigger than them and have sharper teeth, so they might as well roll over.”

  Understanding hit me, and a slight smile twitched my mouth. “You just found your new favorite restaurant in Idaho City, didn’t you?”

  “My absolute favorite. I can’t go through Idaho City without stopping for a bite.” I couldn’t help but appreciate the humor in that. “The food better be good, or it’ll be a long summer.”

  Still a little dazed, I returned to the other source of amazement. “So this law firm you work for. They do civil rights cases?”

  “Richard dabbles in civil rights, but his partners do pure civil cases. Technically, he’s retired, which means he doesn’t know the definition of the word. Richard’s part of my family, and he and his wife come over to dinner a couple times a month.” Wife. I laughed. “I’m actually the only queer in the family, but no one treats it like it even matters. Richard will laugh when I tell him about his ‘husband’. Actually, they’re coming to dinner next Friday. Want to join us?”

  This “family” of hers peaked my curiosity, and Richard sounded like a definite winner. “Yeah. It would be nice to meet some of your family. What’s Richard like?”

  “Charismatic, funny, full of stories. He’s quite a kick. He’ll like you. It’s always a casual dinner, nothing fancy. Just lots of good food and good company, it gives me an excuse to cook something special. Richard’s been doing gay rights cases for years now, and I know he would have made good on my threat – he’s great that way. He’ll tell you all about his bigger cases if you let him get started.”

  “You cook?”

  “All the time. With the way I eat, I’d go broke eating out every day even on my salary. I like it, actually.”

  “I love to cook, but it’s hard to make some time-consuming meal when I’m the only one eating it. So I don’t do it much.” Anymore.

  “Gets kind of lonely, eating for one?” She lowered her eyelids a little, a subtle tell-me-about-it mannerism.

  My mouth twitched in a beginning of a wry smile. I didn’t really want to talk about it, but honesty won the moment. “Yeah. I have been lonely. Maybe that’s what drove me to Louie’s last night. I didn’t go to pick up some woman – or at least I didn’t think so at the time – but I guess I kind of did.”

  Her tone turned haughty. “As I recall, I picked you up.”

  “And I’m still not sure how that happened.”

  I read her amusement easily. “You think just because you were hiding in a corner that you wouldn’t be noticed? I notice everything and everyone around me, and I certainly noticed you.” Satisfaction roiled in her mind. She took great pleasure in finding me.

  I didn’t know how to feel about that. “I’m not used to being noticed. People tend to just ignore me. Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t all insecurities or whatever. I know I’m pretty, but people just walk by most of the time. It used to bug me, but now it just feels normal.”

  “They ignore you because you hide. You’re a beautiful woman, Sadie. Not the most beautiful I’ve ever met, but very beautiful, and more exciting and sexy than anyone I’ve ever known. I saw that in you
when I saw you at Louie’s, and I knew I had to meet you.”

  The waitress came with the food and beer, a cute young thing with eyes of a beaten puppy. Not saying a word or meeting our gaze, she placed the beer in front of me and began to turn. “Miss, can I have a water?” Billie’s tone was kinder than I expected after her conversation with the proprietor. Gentleness crossed her mind as if the girl were a small child or a puppy.

  She nodded and left, clearly uncomfortable. And afraid.

  “Poor thing. She’s terrified.” Billie commented softly at her retreating back, wanting to know why.

  “She sees something in us that she’s afraid to admit to herself.” It came out before I realized what I was saying, but Billie didn’t seem to think it an odd observation.

  “I wouldn’t doubt it. God I’d hate to be young and coming out in a town like this. My hometown wasn’t big, but it would be horrible here.” Billie dug into her meal with enthusiasm.

  I watched the girl as she maneuvered between tables, carrying the plates easily but uncomfortable in the atmosphere. She wanted to leave Idaho City, but felt trapped there, and only part of it was money. I could almost see what that was, but to press further was to go too far. Superficial thoughts only, I reminded myself.

  “You do that.” Billie stared at me intently, knowing without looking in the direction of my gaze. “You look at people as if you want to drag out their soul and examine it.”

  I smiled uncomfortably, kicking myself for being so obvious with her. “I wish I could sometimes. I’d like to know why she stays here.”

  “Tell me about Annie?” The question came as a shock, and for a moment I just stared. How could she know about Annie? “I saw the letter on the table addressed to both of you.”

  Of course she did. How stupid of me. Letting out the breath I didn’t know I was holding, I tried to organize my thoughts. I hadn’t talked to anyone about those last few weeks, and I wasn’t sure I could put it into words. Billie gave me the time I needed to respond.

  Slowly, I tried to explain, for once unable to read Billie in the confusion of my own thoughts. I couldn’t look at her and stared at the waitress instead: pain with a dose of shame evident in my tone. “Annie and I were together for a year. She was very talented, musically and artistically. You may have seen some of her art in local newspapers and magazines. I loved her. When it started to fall apart, it was quick. Two weeks later she moved out; that was three months ago.”