Chase Banter [02] Marching to a Different Accordion

by Bennett, Saxon

  Chase watched Joseph’s face in the mirror. He smiled ever so slightly. “So Joseph, how long have you been Jewish—since Moses came along and took you all on that nightmare vacation?”

  “So I came to the flock late, that doesn’t make me any less gay. You know what your problem is?”

  “Gee, I can think of a few things,” Chase said. The tailor eyed the rear end of the pants. They were loose-fitting as well. Chase gave him a dirty look. He put his fingers together in an ever-so-slight manner. She nodded reluctantly. It was probably better if he made the decision rather than Lacey.

  “Your problem is...you’ve lost your lezzie,” Lacey said, flouncing down on one of the leather divans as if the exertion of saving Gay World had sapped all her strength.

  Chase and Joseph caught each other’s expressions in the mirror. Their mutual look of incredulity made them laugh and then really laugh.

  “Has anyone seen my lezzie? I seem to have misplaced it.”

  Chase watched as Lacey’s face turned crimson and Joseph, his shoulders still shaking, went off to the back room to finish the alterations. She went to sit next to Lacey, who’d gone from angry to pitiful. Chase took her hand. “Come on, don’t cry. I didn’t mean anything. It was just that ‘losing your lezzie’ just sounded so cheesy, like one of those old lesbian novels with the lurid covers.”

  “I know that, but it is really the essence of it and you of all people,” Lacey said morosely.

  Chase was truly puzzled. She’d never been a radical lesbian. It really hadn’t seemed necessary as she was a hermit anyway. “Lacey, I’m just me, a person who happens to be gay. It’s as simple as that.”

  “But it’s not as simple as that when people are still being persecuted all over the planet and people still feel like they have to hide it and people are still getting beaten up,” Lacey said.

  Chase let out a deep breath. “You have a point.” She seemed to be saying that a lot lately.

  “A really good point and it’s up to people like us to make a difference.”

  “All right. I’ll try to summon up all my lezziness for the occasion.”

  “Great. Now, I’ve brought the biographies of all the participants. We can go over them while Joseph finishes the suit. You can do that, can’t you, Joseph?”

  A muttering came from the back room that Lacey took for assent. Like he has a choice, Chase thought smugly.

  “Here we go. Now, P.H. Kinjera is the philosopher, degreed out of Harvard, masters at Emerson, doctorate at Berkeley. She’s an expert on feminist linguistics. In fact, she’s working on rewriting the English language so it will be woman-oriented.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” Chase asked, snatching the biographies out of Lacey’s hand and glancing down at them.

  “Like taking the semen out of seminal and how the Constitution still doesn’t include women, at least not by name—stuff like that,” Lacey said, taking the paper back.

  “Oh, well, that’s understandable,” Chase conceded. “But the whole of the English language. I mean, is that really possible?”

  “She’s going to try. Remember, Mary Daly did a pretty good job of it but new fire and brimstone are necessary. You’ll like her.”

  “I think I’m going to be intimidated. We’re talking about a scholastic powerhouse.” An image of Camille Paglia came into her mind; the thought of having dinner with her made Chase’s bowels twitch.

  “It’s all good. She’s very user-friendly and she’s a Chase Banter fan. You two will get along just fine.” Lacey peeked behind the curtain to see how Joseph was coming along and, Chase suspected, to avoid Chase’s glare.

  “So what you’re saying is that you are single-handedly going to revamp the philosophical, emotional and literary landscape of lesbo-world,” Chase said, suddenly grasping the extent of Lacey’s monomania.

  “With some help,” Lacey said, holding up the jacket that Joseph handed her. “Nicely done.” She patted him on the shoulder and handed him her credit card. “With ample compensation for the rush job. Whatever you see fit.”

  Joseph frowned.

  “I will not let my evil accountant cheat you. We’ll trick him. Add the bonus to the cost of the suit. He’ll only complain about my extravagance and the rest is none of his business.” She handed the jacket to Chase, who put it on. It fit beautifully.

  “You’re serious,” Chase said, flabbergasted.

  “Well, someone’s got to do it. Ta-ta, Joseph,” Lacey said, as they passed out the door with the carefully wrapped suit.

  “I don’t see how a dinner party and a panel discussion are going to accomplish that,” Chase said as they slipped into Lacey’s Subaru.

  “But don’t you see, this is only the beginning—the bringing together of our people. Think of it—with these speakers we’ve created a salon, like on the Left Bank when Gertrude Stein and her girlfriend, you know the one with the mustache, oh, what’s her name, Alice, brought intellectuals, writers and artists together and now we’re doing it with lesbians. And I’ve got a film crew coming in to tape it so we can put it on the web.”

  “What!”

  “Oh, it’ll be all right. Just don’t forget to take your meds. I’ve got some Xanax if things get dicey.” Lacey turned up the music and sang along to the Indigo Girls’ tune “I Was Only Joking.”

  Chase was so thunderstruck that she sat silent all the way back to the house. Gitana found her in the same condition when she returned home with Bud. Chase had eaten her way through three packs of Mentos and had to be put to bed.

  Gitana stroked her forehead and calmly said, “Whatever it is we will sort it out in the morning. I’ll bring you some soup.”

  Bud sat by her and held her hand. Then she handed her Thomas Wolfe’s Look Homeward, Angel and looked imploring.

  “All right, I guess reading about a nut ball might stabilize me.”

  She took up the book and didn’t realize until later, as Bud lay asleep in her arms, that reading oddly tragic novels didn’t exactly make for normal bedtime stories, but then there seemed no real sense of normalcy in her life. Instead of being alarmed by this thought she found it a relief. These past four years of trying to be a normal person, trying to fit into the prescribed roles of parent and mainstream author had been rather a strain. As she closed her eyes, she decided she would do her lesbian best to help Lacey. She would not, however, become a banner-carrying militant lesbian.

  Chapter Thirteen—Soul

  ‘Tis an awkward thing to play with souls.—R. Browning

  “I don’t see the problem with it,” Gitana said as she buttered the toast.

  Chase stared at her in amazement. “Only that I’m not supposed to do things like lesbian webcam panels in case someone recognizes me. I could become schizophrenic being two writers who are not supposed to be the same person.”

  “People do not become schizophrenic because of pen names as it is a brain chemistry issue and embracing your lesbian self, something you’ve always been, would not produce multiple personalities. You are still Chase Banter, the lesbian romance writer, and Shelby McCall, dressed in tweed, the mystery writer,” Bud said. She took a piece of toast and smiled sweetly at Chase.

  “Thank you, Dr. Freud.”

  “I wouldn’t worry so much about it. You’ll be dressed entirely differently and your hair will be lighter. It’s kind of like a disguise,” Gitana said, handing Chase a piece of toast and the jar of peanut butter.

  Chase looked at it with distaste. She’d suddenly lost her appetite. Reaching around the back of the kitchen stool and into her backpack, she pulled out a fresh pack of Mentos.

  “You can’t have that for breakfast,” Gitana said, pouring Bud a glass of orange juice which she guzzled down, putting her glass out for more. “I certainly hope you’re not going to grow up to be a serious drinker.”

  “They’re fruit-flavored. I had bought all the peppermint ones they had,” Chase said, attempting to open the stubborn package. Bud snatched them out of he
r hands. “Thank you. You know how package-challenged I am.”

  Bud smirked and tossed them to Gitana, who handed them off to Annie, the dog, whom she had trained to bury Mentos packages out in the yard. Annie ran for the door before Chase could stop her.

  “That’s not fair. You guys act like I’m a heroin addict.”

  “Mentos have become your heroin,” Gitana said. “Do you have any more?” She nodded at Bud, who deftly took Chase’s backpack off the chair and began to search its contents, quickly locating the contraband.

  “This is a violation of my civil rights,” Chase said indignantly.

  “People with addictions forfeit their rights because they can no longer be responsible for their actions,” Bud said, handing over three more rolls to Gitana. Annie had returned and was given the rest. She eagerly took off.

  “I’m so glad you talk now. It saves me from having to explain things,” Gitana said, stroking Bud’s head.

  “I’m not. What does that say about me when a four-year-old has a better understanding of my behavior than I do?” Chase lamented.

  “That you have a retarded sense of self,” Bud said, taking another piece of toast.

  Chase took a desultory bite of hers. “I suppose you’re right.”

  Bud stroked her forearm and looked empathetic.

  “I think you should do the video,” Gitana said.

  “But why?”

  “Because—I can’t honestly believe I’m saying this—but Lacey is right. We have neglected our duty by slipping into the homogeneity of a culture that pretends to acknowledge our existence when in actuality it belittles and ignores and in some cases harms us. This is the twenty-first century and we still haven’t come that far,” Gitana said.

  “But I’m going to be dressed as a butch tart in a tailored suit and Eliza will somehow find out. You know how connected she is.”

  “Then tell her ahead of time and suffer the consequences,” Gitana said, almost blandly as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

  “What about my career, our standard of living?”

  “Chase, our standard of living will survive it,” Gitana said.

  “So you’re saying my monetary success is of no account?” Chase said, a bit huffily.

  “No, I’m not. I’m saying money isn’t everything.”

  “You sound just like a rich person,” Chase replied and then instantly regretted it as she herself was a trust-fund baby and had seldom wanted for anything.

  Gitana raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips.

  Bud piped in. “The trust fund annuity Owen established for me has no stipulations on its use concerning household expenses,” she said.

  “Let’s see how this dinner thing goes and we’ll take it from there. Deal?” Chase said. She looked disdainfully at her breakfast.

  “Are you going into town?” Bud asked.

  “I wasn’t planning on it. Why?”

  “I would like to visit my grandmother Jacinda, who is helping with the setup at the church jumble sale, which allows me first access to all literary items. I might be able to get some dictionaries. The OED could be out there. And I will need to have an advance on my weekly stipend,” Bud said.

  “What is a jumble sale?” Chase said.

  “Hullo, it’s a Briticism for garage sale, but that term would not be appropriate as it is not being held in a garage but rather the church basement,” Bud said, taking a third piece of toast. Gitana took in her daughter this time and raised her eyebrows again. “I’m growing,” Bud replied.

  “How come you’ve gone from three-word sentences to Virginia Woolfe-length sentences?” Chase asked.

  “My lack of vocabulary,” Bud said flatly. She pulled out the account ledger she kept in her backpack slung over the kitchen chair. “I think twenty dollars will suffice. If I don’t use it I will return it to my account.”

  “How do you know I’ll take you?” Chase said, already pulling twenty dollars out of her wallet.

  “Because you love me and you would never let Jacinda down and secretly you’re hoping I’ll find the OED.”

  “You’re right. Let’s go. I’ll see if I can meet Lacey for coffee and get more particulars on this film thing.”

  “I’ll see you two this afternoon,” Gitana said, putting the breakfast things away. “And no Taco Bell for lunch no matter how much you plead and cajole,” she said, pointing at Bud.

  Bud gave Annie and Jane their departure biscuits and told them to guard, upon which they went to sit under their favorite tree and take in the sun.

  As they got in the car, Bud said, “Did you know that most people no longer get enough vitamin D?”

  “I did not.” Chase started the car and pulled down the drive toward the road.

  Bud hopped out of the car and opened the gate, waited until Chase pulled the car through and shut it. The gate opener had gone the way of the garage door opener—neither worked for unknown reasons—so they’d gone back to the dark ages of manual manipulation because getting a repairman up there was like asking for an audience with the Pope.

  “Can I drive?” Bud asked when she opened the door.

  Chase stared at her in utter disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “Actually, I’m not. I will be sixteen one day and with accelerated driving skills my chances of survival will be greatly increased.”

  “I’m in my forties and my chances of having a heart attack have greatly increased. You can drive with your mother because she has a calmer disposition, but not with me.”

  Bud seemed to consider this. “I would miss you if you died,” she said and got in the car and fastened her seat belt.

  “That’s nice to know.” Chase started down the bumpy road.

  They rode in silence until Chase said, “Why do people suffer from a vitamin D deficiency?”

  Bud smiled. “I wondered how long it would take before you asked.” Bud turned off the timer on her elaborate watch.

  “How long?”

  “Two minutes and thirty-five seconds. People do not go outside and have the glorious rays of the sun dance across their skin often enough. That is why, I presume, that Annie and Jane always have a sun bath. Animals seem to inherently know what their bodies need. Women are especially prone to this particular deficit.”

  “Where did you learn this?”

  “It was on the pop-up page of our Internet provider. The article fell under our decided rules of appropriate reading so I opened it.”

  “There is absolutely no reason for me to doubt your integrity, right?” Chase held great reservations about Bud having access to the Internet, but Gitana had drawn up a set of rules in contractual form that they had all decided on and Bud had sworn to adhere to them.

  “Of course not. I am as good as my word,” Bud said with some indignity.

  “All right. Will you call Lacey and see if she’s available for a tête-à-tête?”

  Bud started to pull up the number on the iPhone Lacey had given her. Technology, the bane of Chase’s existence, was the delight of Bud’s. She could do the most amazing things with the computer and she had now become a go-to girl for all the snafus that Chase created in her own tech-world.

  “No, wait. I have a new plan.”

  Bud raised her eyebrows and looked for an instant like a miniature version of Gitana.

  “I’ll go with you and then when we’re done we can go see Alma. I need her POV on this and you can visit Mrs. Givens. I mean, if you don’t mind. I don’t want to cramp your style,” Chase said as she turned toward the freeway.

  Bud giggled. “I think that’s a perfect idea and if we find the OED we’ll share it.”

  “It will help to have another set of eyes. We should run a copy of it and give the illustration to Jacinda. She gets around a lot; maybe she’ll find it.”

  “What about lunch?” Bud said.

  “We just had breakfast,” Chase said, still feeling the coffee as a turbulent ocean with toast as a raft on top.

&nb
sp; “Did you know that peppermint has the homeopathic affect of settling the stomach?” Bud said, digging about in her backpack.

  “That must be why I crave Mentos.”

  “Precisely,” Bud said, pulling a pack of Mentos out for Chase’s inspection.

  Chase went to grab for it and then remembered they were going fifty-five miles an hour. Maybe she really did have a problem. She refocused her concentration. “What do you want for them?”

  “I want Taco Bell.”

  “We can’t do that. Gitana expressly forbid it.”

  “Let’s revisit that particular injunction. She said no Taco Bell for lunch. The popular assumption of lunchtime is between twelve and one o’clock. She did not forbid Taco Bell at any other time. So if we had Taco Bell at say eleven thirty or one fifteen that would technically not be having lunch at Taco Bell.”

  “Oh, my god, you’re going to grow up to be a Machiavellian. I knew it.”

  “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

  “Oh, no,” Chase wailed. “It’s worse than I thought.”

  “Do you want the Mentos or don’t you?” Bud twirled them around.

  “All right. This will be our secret, however, and if Gitana does figure it out you’re taking the fall,” Chase said.

  Her cell phone went off and she glanced over at Bud. Chase did not talk on the phone and drive. Bud clicked it on and put it on speaker. Donna was explaining to Bud that they, under no circumstances, were to forget that they had a meeting with the Albuquerque Academy principal at two thirty. Bud stared at Chase in disbelief. Chase pulled the car over at a set of mailboxes.

  “What on earth are you talking about?” Chase screamed at the phone. “What meeting?”

  Donna’s voice was shrill and Chase thought she might burst into tears. Donna had spent the last two weeks in New York with Chase’s publisher and had just returned on the red-eye flight the night before. She’d been brought to task on getting Chase to modify her media behavior and had not been the same since. Chase’s new book, Hide and Seek, a title Chase despised, was due out in May for the summer season, “the best time for trashy reading,” according to the New York publicist hired to get the media blitz going. Her name was Myra and she’d also had a go at Donna, telling her that she had to, in Myra’s own words, “get that fucking hermit the hell out of the fucking Republic of New Mexicistan, a place that most Americans thought you needed a fucking passport to get into, and get her to start promoting her books like a fucking good girl.” Chase’s proclivity toward profanity didn’t even come close to that of Myra, who used “fuck,” “hell” and “shit” in almost every sentence. It seemed the New York people were going to torture Donna until they got Chase to do their bidding. It was really rather savage and underhanded, Chase thought.