Taylor pulled up front and leaned over to open the door of an old Volvo.
“I was wondering if this was your car,” Alex said, getting in.
“It’s not the most aesthetically pleasing of cars, but I can’t make myself part with her. She has one hundred and forty-two thousand miles on her.”
“Shouldn’t the junior partner have a Jaguar or something?” Alex teased.
“Like you should talk,” Taylor said, pointing at the 1974 Volkswagen beetle that Alex couldn’t bring herself to part with.
“At least we have something in common,” Taylor said.
“Old cars.”
“And no car payments. We have something else in common,” Taylor said.
“What’s that?” Alex said, trying to unwind her seatbelt from the knot at its base.
“We’re both gay,” Taylor said, leaning over and releasing Alex’s seatbelt.
Alex blushed.
“Did you know that?” Taylor said.
“No, I didn’t. I’m not very good at things like that.”
“So I shouldn’t take it personally that you’ve said approximately four sentences to me since I came to work here.”
“No,” Alex said. “You shouldn’t.”
“I thought maybe you were in the closet and didn’t want anyone to know and befriending me would definitely bring it out in the open.”
“It would?” Alex said.
“Dad knows. He’s known since I was twelve. He keeps hoping I’ll find a nice woman and settle down.”
“And you haven’t?”
“Not until now. Do you like Thai food?”
“I do,” Alex said.
“Another thing in common. Relax, I promise to be lighter for the rest of the evening . . . oh, and I know you have a girlfriend but that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”
“Actually, I don’t have a very attentive girlfriend.”
“That’s what Dad says,” Taylor replied.
“He knows everything doesn’t he?” Alex said, blushing again.
“He’s a sharp guy,” Taylor said, pulling out of the parking lot and heading downtown.
At midnight, Alex stumbled into the living room, tripping over a pile of books that had mysteriously been stuck in the middle of the foray.
Gigi switched on a light. “I can account for my whereabouts this evening. How about you?”
Alex’s pupils instantly dilated and for a moment she felt like she was in the interrogation room. She quickly gathered her wits about her and then reeled again when she saw Gigi, who was wrapped up like a mummy.
“What happened?” Alex asked, tripping over another stack of books that had been set as another trap in case the first set failed. She pushed the books aside and sat next to Gigi.
“My mother got ahold of me,” Gigi said, rather sullenly.
“With what, her Mixmaster?” Alex said, trying to peek under the gauze bandage on Gigi’s forehead.
Gigi pulled away. “It’s a long story. Where were you?”
“I worked late and then I got dinner out. I tried to call but you weren’t home.”
“With whom?”
“How do you know it was with someone?” Alex asked, feeling like she was being interrogated.
“Because you’d rather eat cold macaroni and cheese than eat out by yourself.”
“I went with a woman from work,” Alex replied, acutely aware of Gigi’s gaze.
“A straight woman?”
“What does it matter? I went to dinner with her. I didn’t have sex with her.”
“But the question is did you want to?” Gigi said.
“That’s your game remember. Not mine,” Alex said, getting up abruptly. She went to the kitchen to get an antacid, thinking she shouldn’t have lied and said she liked Thai food when it always played havoc with her stomach.
“I’m sorry. I just needed you and when you weren’t here I freaked,” Gigi said.
“I’ll tell you about dinner, if you tell me what happened,” Alex said.
“Like I said it’s a long story. Maybe we could eat ice cream in bed and I’ll tell you, like the old days,” Gigi said, remembering the times when they would stay up late talking to each other, having ice cream and then making love.
“Is this going to be one of those times when I end up all sticky?” Alex teased.
“Could be,” Gigi said, taking her hand.
Later Alex laid awake and thought about dinner with Taylor and dessert with Gigi and the differences aside from food between them. It had occurred to her before that she and Gigi had a mostly sexual relationship. It was how they ended fights, discussions, and tedium. They seldom changed things, they just tried to fuck them away. Talking with Taylor, Alex began to realize some things and they made her more than a little uneasy. She tried to cross them off to flirtation and the intrigue of newness. She looked over at Gigi and knew that she loved her but for all her trying she didn’t really know her and probably never would. Funny thing was she felt like she knew more about Taylor from one dinner than three years of sleeping in the same bed with Gigi. Alex wondered who was really the emotional cripple in their relationship—herself or Gigi? Perhaps it was both of them.
Seven
The front porch steps were piled high with camping gear and Kim was concerned that all this stuff wasn’t going to fit in the back of Angel’s Jeep. She added the ice chest to the stack and stood back to take stock. It had been a long time since she’d been camping. She didn’t want to forget anything. Kim went over her mental checklist. She was busy checking the tent stakes when Ollie pulled up. Kim heard a car but assumed it was Angel. She wasn’t prepared for Ollie.
“Where are you going?” Ollie asked nonchalantly.
Kim was always amazed that she could walk up like nothing was wrong, no harsh words, no lying and no cheating.
“What are you doing here?” Kim asked.
“Coming to see you,” Ollie said. “I didn’t know you liked to camp.”
“There were a lot of things you didn’t know about me,” Kim replied.
“Maybe I’d like the chance,” Ollie said.
“Ollie, there is no chance,” Kim said, studying her ex-girlfriend and wondering at her stamina in beating this dead horse.
“Why? Are you in love with the postal worker?” Ollie asked.
“Ollie, just let it go, okay? We had our time and it’s over now. We both need to move on. Find another girlfriend and you’ll forget all about me,” Kim said, refraining from saying just like you used to when we were going out.
“The funny thing is the harder I try to forget about you the more obsessed I become. I just want another chance. I know we can be good together. It doesn’t have to end like this.”
“Ollie, I can’t.”
“Because you love her?” Ollie asked, feeling her stomach start to cramp, and tears well up.
“You need to go home,” Kim said.
“I just can’t believe we’re over,” Ollie mumbled.
Kim walked her to her car and for the first time since they broke up she felt sorry for Ollie.
Ollie got in her car. “Was I really that bad?”
Kim sighed. “There were times in the beginning when I thought we could do the long-term thing, but Ollie you wrecked any trust we had by playing around, that kills love faster than anything.”
“And you don’t think the postal worker will do the same?”
“No, she won’t. She’s not like that.”
“But I am?”
“You don’t have to be. Take care, Ollie,” Kim said, trying to be kind.
On the way to Copper Creek, Kim told Angel about Ollie coming to see her.
“She wanted to know if I was in love with you. I guess that truly signifies the end. Maybe that’s why lesbians always line up girlfriend number two as soon as they get rid of girlfriend number one, so there will be no turning back,” Kim said.
“I suppose it helps,” Angel said, pulling off the highway an
d onto the dirt road up to Copper Creek. She smiled mischievously.
“Is this going to be one of your road trips where my kidney’s hurt from all the bumping around?” Kim asked.
“You wanted to go camping,” Angel replied.
“I didn’t mean that’s what we were doing when I was talking about lining up girlfriends,” Kim said, suddenly alarmed that she might have offended Angel.
“I know. We didn’t do that. But I am curious about the love part,” Angel said, taking Kim’s hand.
Kim leaned on her shoulder. “What do you think?”
“I know how I feel,” Angel replied.
“So do I,” Kim teased back.
“Tell me,” Angel pleaded.
“Not while you’re driving,” Kim said, gripping the roll bar as they wound through the first of a series of hairpin turns. By the time they got to the tiny town of Copper Creek, Angel had had to pull over three times to let Kim throw up. She left Kim in the Jeep with a wet bandanna over her forehead and went into the general store to get Dramamine. The old guy behind the counter chuckled.
“The road got to her eh? She’s a nasty one. You should see her in the rainy season. Slick as snot she is,” he told her.
Angel tried not to think about the metaphor. Instead, she hopped in the Jeep and drove to the first campsite she could find that was far enough from the road to give them some privacy.
She got a sleeping bag out and laid it down for Kim.
“I’m sorry,” Kim murmured, as she got out of the Jeep.
“Don’t be. Here, take these. I’ll set up the tent. You’ll feel better soon,” Angel said, stroking her forehead, and then kissed it gently.
Kim lay down under a tall pine and tried to look up at the clouds. Motion sickness set everything reeling, so she closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on thinking still, very still, thoughts.
Angel looked at the tent and considered her upbringing as an urban girl with no training whatsoever in the outdoor arts. Images in movies and the cover of magazines comprised her knowledge. It’s all in acting like you know what you’re doing that allows one to conquer the fear of the unknown until you get a chance to know it, after which it is no longer a threat, Angel told herself as she unpacked the mystery tube that was the tent. She played with the poles and figured out how they snapped together but after that she felt like the first architect creating the first building in the history of humankind. She attempted several shapes only to understand their limitations.
This tent thing wasn’t as easy as in the brochure. Finally, she came upon something that resembled shelter and got Kim inside to take a nap. Next would be the camp stove and dinner. Angel could only imagine the rest of her evening. She looked in at Kim asleep in the tent and realized that in doing this they were utterly alone and without any artifice to conceal their true selves. She was certain she gained the spirit of camping in that moment.
Angel took a good look around at the pines, the sky, the brilliant white clouds and the scenery void of any skyscraper. She felt overwhelmed and yet more comfortable than ever before in her life. She imagined the cartoon strip where she could have the character Detroit experience this moment, of the noblesse oblige of the universe as she wrapped her large warm arms around you and you basked in the golden light of her benevolent willingness. She always kept a sketch pad in the Jeep. She retrieved it from the glove box. Looking in at Kim again she sat down and boxed out the page. It was sitting there in the pines that she conceived of a new character inspired by her restored faith in love. Suddenly she experienced a new, fresher feel to the strip, and she made herself laugh at the endless possibilities as they careened through her brain.
She remembered the beginning of the cartoon and how she had worried when she got out of school how she would find her voice. There were tons of books on writing and how to get started but the cartoon strip was different. Angel used to sit in the lesbian coffee shop and listen to conversations with her eyes closed so she would listen intently to the tone, cadence and word choice of the women around her as they discussed their lives. Then she would turn around to see what they looked like. She was often surprised.
As she did this she began to envision what lesbians would look like in a cartoon strip going less by actuality and more by compilation. As a career move everyone told her that a lesbian cartoon strip would never make her big money, to which she replied that she was old fashioned in her belief that true art was created despite funding and hype. It was Jennifer that believed the two could be combined and Angel’s would be the first syndicated lesbian comic strip. It was mostly through Jennifer’s diligent public relations methods that Angel became famous. For that Jennifer would always have a corner of her heart despite the carnage she created in the aftermath. Jennifer was the first one to believe in her.
Angel finished the preliminary sketch and then set about dinner preparations. Sticking chicken on the hibachi was something she could handle. Kim woke up groggy but hungry. Angel was sipping a margarita and feeling no pain; she explained the moment of benevolent willingness brought on by the wilderness. Kim laughed and gave her a big hug. Angel smiled happily and told her they should go camping more often.
Ollie sat at the bar and contemplated her situation. Old love could not hope to compare to new love. She knew by the look on Kim’s face that she had fallen in love. At first, Ollie thought she could dig up some dirt on Angel and prove her an unfit mate or at least plant doubt into Kim’s mind. Unfortunately, this was not an option. It seemed Angel had lived quietly with her fucked-up girlfriend and worked diligently to make a career for herself. The postal worker, it seemed, was famous, good looking, and talented. Ollie was stuck.
An attractive dark-haired woman sat next to her at the bar and ordered a martini. Ollie got herself another Long Island iced tea. The woman looked at Ollie for a moment.
“You look familiar,” the woman said, idly taking a sip, like she didn’t really care if Ollie responded either way.
Ollie was instantly intrigued. She gave the woman her full attention.
“Could be the light,” Ollie teased. “One woman can look like any woman.”
“No, I think I saw you once at a party or something. Do you know Gigi Dupont?”
Ollie smiled. “As a matter of fact I do.”
Caroline Jimenez raised an eyebrow. “She still gets around, I see.”
“She’s got a girlfriend.”
“That never stopped her.”
“How do you know Gigi?” Ollie asked, feeling the quivering of a plan moving about in the back of her mind.
“I went out with her best friend Mallory,” Caroline stated, evenly and with practiced poise as she referred to a period that still did strange things to her emotional landscape. Of course, that was her mission for coming back, to right some old wrongs and to experience firsthand the damage she had done. She was hoping the aftermath was going to be a delightful surprise and she could assuage the guilt she felt. Having been rudely dumped herself in the past few years she was hoping to correct the karmic wrong that seemed to plague her relationships since the war zone she had left five years ago.
“Wow, you must be the one she wore pajamas for all that time, pining the morning you left her holding the coffee pot and flabbergasted that you were leaving . . . the country no less. Welcome back,” Ollie said.
“Thanks,” Caroline said, signaling the bartender.
“I used to go out with a friend of hers until my girlfriend found me in a compromising position with Gigi one night at a party. Gigi has fled the scene and is consequently suffering very little.”
“Some things never change. She did the same thing to me. That was why I left the country. Only we had an ongoing relationship and I thought it was love. Gigi didn’t,” Caroline said, carefully measuring Ollie’s response.
“While you were going out with Mallory?” Ollie inquired.
“Yes,” Caroline replied, remembering the ease of confession in those dark closets in the golden
churches of South America.
“Well, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive,” Ollie said.
“You’re a well-read woman, I see. An English major perhaps?” Caroline commented.
“Not exactly, Mallory told me that one,” Ollie said, remembering a soiree that Mallory attended and how she pointedly repeated those words at Gigi when they were in the early days of lust.
“Yes, Mallory is definitely well read, always felt a little less than adequate in the academic department when I was with her. People who read seem to know everything.”
“Except how to keep a girlfriend,” Ollie said, finishing her drink.
“Can I buy another?” Caroline offered.
“Sure, we can tell tales,” Ollie said, knowing exactly how she was going to use this contact.
The wind whistled through the pines and Kim lay in Angel’s arms. Her even breathing made Kim feel restful. They hadn’t made love but she could feel it coming, that Angel was moving toward it slowly and Kim knew she would have to be patient. Angel probably thought she was waiting for Kim but Kim knew better.
Angel was the one who needed courting. Angel was the one who believed making love was the combining of two souls and the act required the utmost sanctity. Angel was waiting for the right moment, the time when she knew they were both cleansed of all the bad memories, the furtive emotions that still plagued a new relationship. Kim smiled in the darkness. She wanted this love to work, this relationship to last. She wanted to do it right.
Kim’s ponderings on the alchemy of love was rudely interrupted. Someone or thing was rattling the cooler and a strange snuffling noise. She sat straight up. She gently nudged Angel.
“What?” Angel said, rolling up on her elbow.
“There’s something outside,” Kim said, trying to find the flashlight.
“What kind of something?” Angel said, also rummaging around.
“I don’t know,” Kim said, clutching the flashlight to her breast and trying to summon up her courage.
Saxon Bennett - Talk of the Town Page 14
