Chase Banter [02] Marching to a Different Accordion

by Bennett, Saxon

  “Because I know you. Now go home and start writing. It’ll take your mind off Bud until it’s time to go pick her up.”

  “I can’t. I have to meet Lacey at Borders for coffee so we can discuss her ‘I have a lesbian dream’ concept and then we’re going to the Main Library so Isabel can help us with the research.”

  “Lacey is going to the library. Wow, put this day down on the calendar of unlikely events.”

  “She’s starting to make me nervous,” Chase said as she walked to her car.

  “Just don’t agree to do anything.”

  “I won’t.”

  “I’ll see you tonight and everything will be all right.”

  “I know.” She clicked off and climbed in her car. At least I think I’ll be all right, she thought. Bud promised to call at lunchtime so she only had to get through three and a half hours. She knew she was going to have to stop being so needy. Perhaps she should make an appointment with her therapist, Dr. Robicheck, so they could discuss it.

  Lacey told her about her intended plans as they sipped iced coffees, then Chase scrolled through her phone and made an appointment for the following week with Dr. Robicheck.

  “I thought you were better,” Lacey said.

  “I was, but I think I might need a tune-up. You know how big changes sort of mess with my psyche.”

  “Oh, well, finish up your drink so we can get to the library. Isabel called me this morning and said she has as many lesbian books as are currently available,” Lacey said, slurping the last of her iced coffee and staring imperiously at Chase’s half-full glass.

  “Are you going to read all these books?”

  “With some help from Jasmine.”

  “And what is the purpose of this exercise?” Chase took several deep swallows of her coffee.

  “I have to know our history. I can’t point us in the right direction if I don’t know where we came from,” Lacey said. “I’m going to need your help.”

  “I’m not big on group things,” Chase said, making her first attempt at extrication.

  “Well, you’ll just have to learn. Come on,” Lacey said, getting up.

  As Chase got into Lacey’s car, she thought, “Strike One.”

  The drive to the library was an interminable ride, with Lacey running through all the contractual issues of her real estate purchase in Galisteo, of which Chase had no conceivable idea. Gitana had taken care of all those kinds of details when they bought their house and property. Chase also had to give Lacey numerous instructions as to how to get to the Main Library. Lacey had at first pulled up in front of The Library.

  “This doesn’t look like a library,” she said, glancing up at the façade.

  “That’s because it’s not,” Chase said.

  “But it says so on the sign,” Lacey replied, her brow wrinkled.

  “This is the Library Bar.”

  “They serve liquor at the library?”

  “Lacey, listen to me. This is a bar with books as part of the décor and waitresses that are dressed in short skirts and tight blouses supposedly indicative of schoolgirls and it’s called The Library. The real library is between Fifth and Sixth Street. Drive on.” Chase refrained from saying that if Lacey had ever gone to the library before she would know this.

  “Oh.”

  They found the library, only to discover that neither one of them had change for the parking meter. They scoured the car in search of lost change and found nothing. “Jasmine is kind of a neat freak. She details the cars once a week,” Lacey said.

  Chase stood looking at the parking meter. “This is New Mexico.”

  “And?”

  “We have laws against littering, using your cell phone while driving, double fine speed zones and lots of drunk driving, all of which have hefty fines attached to them and for the most part very few of which are enforced. I don’t think we have to worry about a parking meter.”

  Inside, Isabel greeted them and then took them to the reserved shelves where Lacey’s books were being held.

  “You can check out up to fifty books at a time. I’ve collected forty-five so you’re under the limit anyway,” Isabel said.

  Chase picked up Djuna Barnes’s Nightwood. “I haven’t read this in years. It’s really a good book.”

  Lacey studied the cover. “Never heard of it.”

  “That’s because it was written a long time ago and it never made it to the classics section at Borders,” Chase said, and then added, “not that you’ve ever been in the classics section.”

  Lacey frowned at her. “What about this one?” she said, referring to Radcliffe Hall’s The Well of Loneliness.

  “Absolutely essential to your knowledge of lesbian history,” Chase said.

  “Perfect,” Lacey said as she started stuffing the books into a canvas bag she’d brought with her.

  Isabel cleared her throat.

  “Lacey, you have to check them out. You can’t just take them,” Chase said.

  “Well, then I’ll check them out.” She looked around as if in search of a cash register. “How do I do that?”

  “With your library card,” Chase replied.

  Isabel tactfully handed her a library card application. “Just fill it out and I’ll get you one.”

  “You don’t have a library card?” Chase yelped. Several pairs of eyes stared at her and she lowered her voice. “That’s disgraceful.”

  Lacey shrugged. “I’ve never needed one before. See, this is why I need you on board. You read a lot and you know things.”

  Oh, no, Chase thought, “Strike Two.” She hoped she wasn’t going to be aboard a sinking ship. She blanched—a mixed metaphor. She chastised herself for not sticking to baseball if she was operating off the strike out theory. Life was so much more complicated than writing. At least with writing there were rules. A dangling participle couldn’t bitch slap you when you weren’t looking.

  Lacey needed intense instruction on how to operate the self-checkout machine. Finally Chase gave up and did it herself.

  “Isabel, I want to heartily thank you for putting forth such an effort in compiling this bulwark of lesbianism. I’m going to make you an honorary lesbian when we get things up and running,” Lacey said.

  Isabel smiled. “Thank you.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be receiving your plaque shortly,” Chase said, “along with a blender, instead of a toaster oven, and a subscription to How to be the Best Lesbian You Can.”

  “We have a magazine?” Lacey said incredulously.

  “Not that one, thank god,” Chase said, hoisting up a stack of books that wouldn’t fit into the bag.

  Isabel laughed. “Have fun, ladies.”

  When they reached the car, Chase checked the windshield. “See, I told you.”

  “I love this place.”

  “Yeah, until someone who is texting while driving crashes into your car.”

  Chase’s phone beeped. She pulled it from her pocket. “Oh, my god, it’s Bud.”

  “I thought you liked to talk to Bud,” Lacey said, as she maneuvered out of the tight parking lot in her Lesbaru, as Subarus were known to the community.

  It was a text message. “It’s lunchtime, but no one calls their moms so I don’t want to stick out. Everything is fine.”

  Lacey leaned over to read it.

  “You’re supposed to be driving,” Chase said, alarmed.

  “We’re at a red light. Boy, for a kid, she’s a pretty good texter.”

  “She’s got a BlackBerry with a keyboard,” Chase said. She wrote back, “Okay. See you soon.” She thought this was the epitome of self-restraint and then she handed the phone to Lacey. “You’ll need to keep this for half an hour while Bud’s at lunch.”

  “Why?” Lacey said, taking the phone.

  “Because I can’t control myself.”

  “Is this like the Mentos thing?” Lacey said as she got on the freeway and headed uptown.

  “Yes. Speaking of which, do you have any?”

&
nbsp; “You told me not to.”

  “Since when do you listen to what I say?” Chase stared out the window morosely. She wouldn’t see Bud for another two and a half hours.

  “Let’s go to my place and we’ll look at the books until it’s time for you to pick up Bud. It’ll take your mind off it,” Lacey said.

  “All right.”

  “We’ll stop at Smith’s and get a Papa Murphy’s pizza for lunch and some Mentos. It’ll be fun.”

  “Pizza usually does cheer me up,” Chase conceded.

  “Great,” Lacey said.

  At two o’clock, Chase’s car was the first one in the queue for student pickup. She had meticulously studied the system of child pickup and delivery, which had a one-way entrance and was sectioned off by traffic barriers. If you weren’t early, it could take some time to maneuver through the line. She had brought her laptop but was unable to concentrate as she kept looking at the clock in the corner of the screen. Finally, she heard the bell ring and waited anxiously for Bud to spill forth. It seemed like an eternity before she saw her. Bud was jostling between Summer and Collins. She waved and smiled at Chase. The three girls did some kind of funky handshake thing and then Bud got in the car.

  “What was that about?” Chase asked, resisting the urge to hug her really tight because she knew it would embarrass Bud.

  “It’s our special handshake signifying eternal devotion to our newfound friendship,” Bud said, pulling a granola bar out of her backpack.

  “I saved you a piece of pizza,” Chase said, pointing to the backseat.

  “Really,” Bud said, leaping for it.

  “Now, about this handshake, I mean, eternal devotion is kind of a big step for people you just met today.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s just Collins’ histrionics. It’s entirely possible we won’t like each other in a month, but if it makes her happy, what does it hurt?” Bud took enormous bites of her pizza.

  “Be careful, you’ll choke,” Chase said as she maneuvered the car through the traffic barriers until she reached the street, which was heavily patrolled by crosswalk guards in brown and orange outfits. This was another time-consuming endeavor. “Didn’t you eat lunch?”

  “I had to share, that’s another part of the eternal devotion thing. Collins wants to be a vegetarian, but her mom won’t let her so I gave her half of my lunch because she said she couldn’t possibly eat her cow meat sandwich.”

  “Tomorrow I’ll pack enough lunch for the two of you. What about Summer?” They were finally free of the school zone cluster fuck. Chase breathed a sigh of relief as they approached Indian School and the freeway entrance ramp.

  “She only eats tomato sandwiches with peanut butter crackers.”

  “Every day?”

  “Apparently, she’s been heavily influenced by Harriet the Spy and is mimicking some of her behaviors. She feels that to truly experience literature one must adopt some of the protagonist’s proclivities. She wants to be a theatrical performer when she grows up.”

  “Harriet didn’t eat peanut butter crackers.”

  “Summer doesn’t really like tomato sandwiches so she brings along the peanut butter crackers.”

  “And I thought we were weird,” Chase said as they drove for home.

  “Apparently not.” Bud leaned her head against Chase’s shoulder. “I missed you.”

  “Ditto.”

  Chapter Twenty-One—Beginnings

  Learn to make a body of a limb.—Shakespeare

  “Do you realize this is the first time we’ve been alone in the afternoon for the longest time?” Chase said. She and Gitana were sitting on the deck of the writing studio admiring Chase’s jewel garden, an elaborate display of flowers that had gotten larger and larger each year so that it covered almost half an acre and was still a work in progress.

  “That is because I’m playing hooky and Bud is at school and you’ve just finished your latest lesbian novel to the outstanding cheers of the Pink Mafia,” Gitana replied.

  “I had to send them every chapter to see if it met their approval. I’ve never had a counsel of beta readers before.”

  “Donna told me that you had to make some of the sex scenes more tasteful,” Gitana said.

  “Yeah, we’ll see what Ariana has to say about that. The evil editor was the one who made me write graphic sex and the Pink Mafia disapproves of it. Go figure.”

  “I think the publishing world might want to do a series of focus groups on what kind of sex scenes lesbian readers like,” Gitana said, sipping her lemonade.

  “Don’t say that in front of Lacey.” Chase pinched off another piece of tortilla and threw it to the mountain jays. She’d been feeding them when Gitana arrived. “She’ll have us all doing another panel discussion and it’s taken me the entire month of August to get over the last one.”

  “I think you did beautifully. In fact, I’m sure your lezzie has officially returned.”

  Chase reached over and took her hand. “And how do you figure on that one?”

  “I don’t know. You just seem more lesbian. For awhile there you were getting a bit suburban.”

  “What!”

  “Well, you were. Your clothes have also improved,” Gitana said playfully, pulling at Chase’s cream-colored silk shirt and coffee-colored linen Capri pants.

  “My mother took me shopping. I can’t look like a bag lady at the coffee klatch. I would embarrass Bud.”

  Gitana squeezed her hand. “I don’t think Bud cares.”

  “She does. She clandestinely got Stella to suggest a shopping trip, mentioning that as a writer of prominence I might need a bit of a spruce up.”

  “No more khaki shorts and Thrift Town cast-offs?”

  “Well, I can’t swear off that. I just have to look more presentable to pick her up at school. Bud says it’s like having a uniform. I still get to have play clothes. Speaking of which, I need to pack my bag for yoga and then Lou wants to talk to me about something so we’re taking the kids to the park afterward. We should be home about seven thirty. Will that be all right?”

  Gitana checked her watch. “I’ll help you pack.” She got up.

  “I don’t have much, just my yoga outfit and then my play clothes,” Chase said.

  “We’ve only got a couple hours,” Gitana said, pulling on Chase’s hand.

  “It’s not going to take two hours to pack,” Chase said, following Gitana back to the house.

  “You’re thinking suburban again. I want to spend the next hour and forty-five minutes fucking your brains out between the Wonder Sheets.”

  “Oh, but I still have to pack.”

  Gitana was pulling Chase’s T-shirt off as they went upstairs. “Think lezzie,” Gitana said as she slid out of her panties.

  It didn’t take much persuading for suburban thoughts to subsume to thoughts of lesbian delights.

  After yoga Chase and Lou hung upside down on the monkey bars while Bud and Peter designed their own game of Frisbee golf using smashed up cans they’d retrieved from the recycle bin. After Chase had disinfected them with the can of Lysol she always had on hand, Bud had smashed the cans flat using the hammer from the tool kit Chase always kept in the trunk, wired various small rocks to the center of the cans that were now discs and then put electrical tape around the edges so they wouldn’t cut themselves.

  Peter watched her intently but did not appear to be amazed, only interested in how the whole thing would turn out. Lou, on the other hand, stood in wonderment. “The kid is like MacGyver.”

  “Well, you know…” Chase trailed off. She didn’t want to go into Bud’s intellectual abilities.

  Somehow or another they’d ended up on the monkey bars. “I think these things really do straighten out your spine,” Lou said.

  “It’s definitely along the lines of an inversion table,” Chase said.

  Lou sighed. “I’ve got a problem.”

  “Anything you need,” Chase offered up. “What is it? A babysitter, a car tune-up, plumb
ing issue, financial…I don’t do gynecological work, but I do have a good therapist.”

  “You have a therapist?”

  “Let’s just keep that between us.”

  “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Therapy is like a mind tune-up.”

  “That’s a good way to look at it,” Chase said.

  “What I need is advice,” Lou pulled herself up. Her face was very red. Chase did the same. They sat on top of the bars and swung their legs.

  Chase bit her lip. “I can try. I’m not the soundest-of-mind kind of advice giver.”

  Lou laughed. “You’re better than you think. Marsha asked me out.”

  “That was entirely my fault. When I told her to have a go at it I didn’t mean you and I tried to explain to her that I didn’t think you were ready. She just said she’d wait.” Chase looked glum. She stared out at Bud and Peter—childhood suddenly seemed much easier.

  “Don’t worry. It wasn’t your fault,” Lou said, touching her arm. “The thing is I thought I might go out with her.”

  “Really?” Chase was incredulous.

  “We talked and she’s got a good head on her shoulders. She agreed that going slow would be prudent and if at anytime either one of us changed our mind about the direction of our friendship—that’s what we’re going to call it instead of relationship—we would tell the other. I think that’s a rational way to approach it.”

  “You’re probably going to go to bed on your first date.”

  “I know.”

  “Well, it’s easier jumping into cold water than it is sliding,” Chase said.

  As she lay awake in bed, Chase thought about jumping into cold water. Hadn’t that been what she and Gitana had done, having Bud, becoming parents, writing herself in and out of lesbian fiction, learning to be social or socially adapted as Lily had taught her. She leaned over to kiss Gitana, who nuzzled against her. Then the phone rang. She leapt up to grab her cell phone on the nightstand. She kept it there in case there was an emergency—what if her mother or Jacinda had a heart attack? Or there was an intruder? Or one of her friends died in a car crash and the body needed to be identified, although that probably wouldn’t be an issue because the police would already know who it was by the car license plate… These thoughts blazed through her head as she clicked on her phone.