Car Pool

by Karin Kallmaker

  Anthea got out of the car, certain she was about to meet the redoubtable Mrs. Giordano.

  “You are here for Shay? She is upstairs. Oh, there you are,” Mrs. Giordano said as Shay appeared at the top of the steps. “Stop wiping dishes, your date is here,” she announced, waving at Shay. As Shay came down the stairs, Anthea found herself on the receiving end of an appraising stare. “You work with Shay?”

  “We don’t work together, but we work for the same company.”

  “You’ve been there a long time? You have the pension plan?”

  “Yes,” Anthea said. Mrs. Giordano was an odd inquisitor. “I’m vested one hundred percent.”

  “Good, good. Shay is such a nice girl,” Mrs. Giordano said.

  “A woman, not a girl,” Shay said as she joined them.

  “In my day,” Mrs. Giordano began, “a woman tried to stay a girl all her life. But it’s not my day anymore. Now I’m supposed to say right out I’m an old woman. Well, it’s true.” She gave Anthea another piercing glance. “You two have fun on your date.” She turned to Shay. “Remember, you have to work tomorrow.” Her eyebrows arched significantly as she gave Anthea a last look and went back up the stairs.

  “I gather I’m to have you back by curfew,” Anthea said with a smile.

  “I told her it wasn’t a date exactly. …”

  “Not exactly,” Anthea said. Her body abruptly goose-pimpled. She had the feeling that everything had changed. “Well, let’s go.”

  But then again, everything seemed the same when they were in the car. Except they were headed for San Francisco and traffic was a lot lighter than usual. She pressed up a selection of CDs and they cruised into the city to the bouncing tones of the Manhattan Transfer. She handed a sheet of paper to Shay. “Tell me what Adrian wrote down.”

  “Where are we headed?”

  “Northwest corner of Market and Noe. Adrian is meeting us there and then he’ll direct us to his friend’s house. The one with the car.”

  “Oh, take this exit,” Shay said. “Noe and Market’s just a block off Castro.”

  “I don’t know where that is,” Anthea admitted.

  “This is your first time to the Castro?”

  “Well, I was there once, but I felt… out of place.”

  Shay chewed on her lip for a few moments, then said, “Well, I’ll help you streak your hair purple if you like. Or we could go shopping for leather chaps. But you don’t have to go the whole nine yards all at once.”

  “I’m not sure I’d fit in,” Anthea said. “I guess I’m a little conservative.”

  Shay smiled. “That’ll change.”

  “Or maybe not.” Anthea frowned. “I am what I am. I’m not flamboyant. I’m not political —”

  “There are those who say, um, just having sex with another woman is political.”

  “I don’t feel that way. It’s private. It’s … a choice I made.”

  Shay frowned slightly, then chewed on her lip again. “But if it’s a permanent choice it’s going to affect your life.”

  “It hasn’t so far.”

  Shay looked out the window. “It’s only been a short while. At the light drive ahead about four blocks.”

  “Okay. What do you mean, short while?” Anthea wished they had never started talking about politics. Lois would have been spouting the latest straight—

  people-are-out-to-get-us story from the Sentinel by now. Keeping up with each insult and thoughtless act made Anthea tired and depressed.

  “Wasn’t… um, that woman. I mean wasn’t that… .”

  Anthea blinked, then realized what Shay’s line of reasoning was. She was peeved that Shay couldn’t believe Anthea had been a lesbian for more than a few weeks. What was she missing, a dozen earrings and pink triangles hanging off her ears?

  “No, that was not my first time. My first time was in a professor’s office at the University of Chicago with a teaching assistant. Some fifteen years ago. Since then I’ve had enough practice to keep my skills up and I even lived with another woman.”

  “I’m sorry, I just, I mean I hadn’t realized… .”

  “Well, now you know.” Anthea didn’t know why she was so bothered. “We come in all shapes and sizes and we can’t all belong to Queer Nation.” There, that was why she was upset. Shay sounded just like Lois all over again.

  “I know that,” Shay said. “Look, I just wasn’t expecting it. I had ruled you out without really thinking about it — shame on me. You don’t have to join Queer Nation to prove you’re a lesbian.”

  “One of the reasons I’m not involved in the activist agenda is that I’ve been discounted once too often because I’m not suffering because I’m gay. This lesbian writer was on a talk show — everyone says she’s a ‘thinking lesbian’s lesbian’ — and said that lesbian affluence was a myth. I felt like she’d slapped me. She went on and on about visibility after she’d just made me invisible. I don’t need to be treated like dirt, certainly not by other lesbians.”

  Shay said quietly, “You know, I do understand where you’re coming from. You haven’t had any firsthand experience with oppression. It doesn’t make you less gay. But have you ever tried to do anything that pushes the envelope?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, for example, let’s say you wanted to get married. But you know it’s against the law. So you never try to get a license so, in a way, you haven’t been deprived of a right because you never tried to use it. You’re saving the government the trouble of denying you rights by denying them to yourself.”

  Anthea hadn’t really thought of it that way. But what didn’t she have that she wanted? She sighed. She decided to change the subject. “Where are we?”

  Shay seemed grateful for a new topic. “Rapidly passing through a corner of the Mission district on our way to the Castro. I tried to find an apartment around here, but I couldn’t afford it. I love the variety of neighborhoods. You can walk to just about any kind of deli or grocery you might desire, and there’s entertainment of all kinds.”

  “I’ve always lived in Berkeley, right where I’m living now,” Anthea said. “Where do I go?”

  “One home all your life — turn left at the light and then we’re on Market — I can’t imagine it. We moved around so much. Stay in the right-hand lane.”

  “It feels like I moved since the fire. It was rebuilt from the foundation up.”

  “How awful — you lost the house you grew up in to the fire?”

  Anthea swallowed. “It wasn’t so bad. A lot of memories went too and that was for the best. I got to rebuild and the floor plan is much better. The old

  house had a lot of added on rooms. The kitchen was down the hall from the dining room, for example.” She ignored Shay’s searching glance and went on blithely, “My parents were always intending to remodel but they never got around to it.”

  “We always rented. Some places we lived were fairly primitive, but it was always an adventure with my dad. He had a wariness of roots. Never wanted to stay in one place for long.”

  “How about you? Do you want to move around like that?”

  “I liked it with him. Everything new excited him incredibly. New places, new projects, even new toxics. He was insatiably curious about everything. I miss the passion of working with him.” Shay fell silent for a moment. “I miss him. A lot.”

  Anthea couldn’t think of anything to say, so she was relieved to see Adrian waving from the curb. He looked strange in jeans and a T-shirt under a close-fitting leather jacket. His jeans had razor-sharp creases — ah, that’s my Adrian. She pulled over and Shay got out, turned around and moved into the back seat.

  Anthea saw Adrian’s arched eyebrows as he glanced at Shay. She ignored his knowing wink. She introduced them and then let Adrian guide her.

  “Left here. This, my dear, is Castro Street. And there’s my favorite coffee store, Cliffs has the best hardware and there’s A Different Light, and look out this side. That bar, don’t ever go in there. The
men are so sleazy.”

  Shay perched right in the gap behind the bucket seats. “How would you know?”

  Adrian glanced back at Shay, then looked at Anthea. “I thought you said she was shy.”

  “I — uh —”

  Shay suddenly yelled, “Stop! Pull over!” Anthea swerved to the curb. “Roll down the window,” she told Adrian, then leaned forward, squeezing herself past Adrian in a spine-wrenching contortion. Adrian was shoved into Anthea’s lap.

  “If she’s picking up a girl, I’ll kill her,” Adrian said.

  “Women, not girls,” Anthea said. She peered past Adrian to see what Shay was doing.

  She was shouting and waving her arms. “Hey, it’s me. I didn’t know you lived around these parts.”

  Adrian said, “If she doesn’t introduce me, I’ll kill her.”

  Anthea finally managed to see that Shay was talking to a man — a very good-looking black man with shoulders the width of Canada.

  “Let’s make this more civilized,” Adrian said. “Scoot back.” Shay moved and Adrian opened the door to let Shay out. He then lingered.

  “It’s old home week,” Shay said. “Harold, this is Anthea from my car pool, and this is Adrian, who works with Anthea. And we are collectively, I’m sure, the entire complement of gay people foolish enough to work at NOC-U.”

  Anthea leaned over, nodded, said hello. Adrian shook hands — took his time over it, Anthea noticed — and said pleased to meet you. Shay explained their reason for being there while Harold offered pieces of the muffins he’d just gotten at the bakery. Adrian, standing with one foot up on the running

  board, commented on how small a world it was and how amazing it was that he and Harold hadn’t run into each other before because Adrian would have certainly remembered if they had.

  Anthea managed not to gag. Then she had to congratulate Adrian for his gung ho attitude. She realized abruptly that she had the same intentions toward Shay that Adrian had toward Harold. He was just being more obvious about it. Her nerves jangled. She wanted a cigarette. A lot. You are a nonsmoker. Keep saying that, she told herself. She had deliberately not been counting them or the days that had gone by since she had had one. She wanted one now and that meant she hadn’t yet quit. She wondered if she would ever stop wanting one.

  “Where are you taking us to dinner, Anthea sweetheart?” Adrian leaned down to smile blandly at her. She had never thought she would see Adrian in cowboy boots.

  “Your choice.”

  “When?”

  “I don’t know. Whenever we’ve got the car and have had our joyride.”

  “Six?”

  Anthea said that was fine and watched as Adrian turned back to Harold — and ostensibly Shay — and invited him to join them for dinner at someplace called the Rusty Onion at six. Shay seemed very pleased, so Anthea supposed she didn’t mind. Shay returned to the back seat and then Adrian stumbled into the car.

  “These clodhopper feet,” he muttered. “He didn’t see me, did he?”

  “Your reputation for grace is secure,” Anthea said scathingly. “I never realized your feet were so big.”

  “They’re huge,” he said morosely, then he brightened. “I actually met a new man. Thanks, Shay,” he said over his shoulder.

  Anthea said testily, “I presume I need to pull back out into traffic?”

  “Please,” he said, then he directed her to turn right and left until she had lost all sense of direction. He finally told her to pull over in front of a small apartment building off a narrow one-way street.

  Adrian returned in about ten minutes, just as Anthea was getting anxious.

  “He says to pull the car out of the garage and put yours in its place while we go for a drive. And if you don’t want it, he’ll understand. He gave me the check and pink slip to hold until you make up your mind.”

  “I was hoping he would come with us,” Anthea said.

  Adrian shook his head. “He’s … having a bad day. He wanted to come out too, but there’s no way.” Adrian had a tight look around his eyes. Then he smiled and swung a key in front of her. “Let’s go get the baby.”

  Anthea left the Legend’s flashers on and then hurried after Adrian and Shay who were lifting a garage door.

  “Wow,” Shay said. “This is fabulous.”

  Anthea crept up behind Shay and whispered, “I’m in love with my car.”

  It was everything Adrian had promised. In the

  dim light of the garage, Anthea imagined that it winked at her. The top was pristine white, gleaming against the brilliant red finish of the exterior. In full light, Anthea was sure the shine would be blinding. The license plate read “IBPROUD.”

  Adrian unlocked the driver’s door and bowed like a valet. “Madam, your carriage awaits.”

  White leather. The seat made welcoming noises as she oozed down into it. Vintage dials, recessed into the trademark flat dashboard of a Volkswagen, gleamed chrome at her. The dashboard and carpet were black.

  “I’m in love with my car,” Anthea said again. “Let’s go for a ride.”

  “Top down, milady?”

  “Definitely.” She was attentive while Adrian showed her how the top folded behind the back seat.

  “I have instructions if you decide you want it.”

  “Of course I want it.”

  “We’ll see once you get it out on the road. Oh, in the trunk —” He went to the front of the car — “is the removable tape deck and the best cruising music ever, I’m told.” He rummaged and emerged grinning. “The Stones. Let’s boogie.”

  Adrian volunteered to ride shotgun and Anthea glanced at Shay with a giggle of excitement. She turned the key gently in the ignition and the VW sprang to life. With the greatest of care, she backed out of the garage.

  Shay leapt out with Anthea’s keys and quickly moved the Legend into the garage. “All stowed away, Captain,” she said as she swung back into the passenger seat.

  “Impulse speed, then.” She eased the clutch out

  and the VW purred down the alley. Following Adrian’s directions, they cruised slowly back to Castro Street with “Jumpin’ Jack Flash” blaring from the speakers. Anthea concentrated on driving while Shay and Adrian waved as if they were in the Rose Parade. Still following Adrian’s directions they proceeded down Market to Van Ness, then managed a stately drive past Opera Plaza.

  “Let’s test the gears,” Adrian said. “When I tell you to turn right, we’re going to go up some steep hills. Think you can do it?”

  “I’ll try.” She drove cautiously and when the time came, shifted down into first and slowly climbed the steep blocks, managing each time to get the front tires on the flat of the cross street. Congratulating herself when they reached the top, she zipped across the intersection.

  With a yelp, she braked. The road appeared to drop away into nothing.

  “Trust me,” Adrian said. “Go forward just a little.”

  She wanted to close her eyes. The car tipped forward and she realized where she was. “I’ve never done this before!” She turned the wheel to accommodate the brick-lined curves of Lombard Street.

  Shay was bracing herself away from the dash. “I’ve always wanted to drive down this street because it isn’t straight.”

  Before the afternoon was over, they had driven across the Golden Gate and back, cut a blazing

  swath through clogged traffic at Fisherman’s Wharf and wended their way back to the Castro where Shay and Adrian, in Anthea’s opinion, behaved like children seat-dancing to “Satisfaction.” It was just before six when Anthea parked not too far from the restaurant Adrian had picked out.

  Shay’s hair was standing on end. Anthea liked the effect. Her own neat braid was unchanged, though the rear view mirror showed that the hair at her temples was curlier than usual and her cheeks were red from the wind. Anthea decided she hadn’t had this much fun in years, if ever.

  The Rusty Onion was not the kind of restaurant Anthea would have chosen, but she didn’t mind
it. Beer signs adorned the walls and both music and voices assaulted her ears as they entered. True to her albeit limited experience, the bar was lined with men, but they paid her no attention. Harold, however, was ogled as they all trooped by. He didn’t seem to mind.

  The dining area was a little quieter and Shay sighed as they sat down. “Somebody serving me dinner for once — I like it.”

  “You deserve it,” Anthea said. “This dinner is on me so everybody order whatever you’d like.”

  “That’s not necessary,” Harold said. “After all—”

  “No arguing at the dinner table,” Anthea said primly, then she smiled at Harold to show she was joking. He grinned back and gave her a nod of acquiescence.

  1mm,” Shay said. “By the way, I decided I

  could afford to cut back on the pizza parlor. I’ll only be working Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays starting next week. It was that or go completely crazy. I’m almost debt free.”

  “Congratulations,” Anthea said. “You’ll be a new woman.” She wondered what Shay was like when she wasn’t tired all the time. More of everything, she thought. Funnier, cuter and … everything.

  Their waiter materialized suddenly, leaning close to Adrian and Harold. “Cock-tails?” He batted his eyelashes. “You’re supposed to laugh. It’s my favorite line.”

  Adrian said, “Shall we split a carafe of wine?”

  Shay glanced at her, and Anthea quickly said, “If you’d like, please do, but none for me, thanks.”

  “You’re the designated driver then, honey,” the waiter said. Shay deferred to Adrian and Harold and they decided, after a great deal of discussion, on a white wine with a French name that made the waiter give an excited squeak. “Ex-cellent choice, my dears, I’ll be back in two shakes of a queen’s tail.”

  “I work with someone for five years,” Adrian said, “and I never realized you don’t drink, though I can guess why. What else don’t I know about you, Andy?”

  “Lots of things.” Anthea decided to explain. “My parents were alcoholics. I don’t know if I don’t drink because they drank and I hated what it did to them or if I’m afraid I’ll follow in their footsteps.”