Summer came slowly to a close and she began to emerge into a new self. At least that was how matters appeared to Herself. Herself thought she was spending too much on clothes, but when Cat mentioned that she thought Jessica should wear brighter blues and greens, she had felt compelled to take her advice.
Cat's modern and dramatic tastes made inroads into Jessica's life, and she let the changes happen. They went to an art deco exhibit and a rather odd concert without musical instruments that she actually found she enjoyed. She even wallpapered one wall in her bedroom. Whether the new Jessica was the result of Cat or not, she dated her new life from the first time she and Cat had gone out. Everything else was B.C. — Before Cat. She knew she would regret letting the time she had shared with Cat mean so much.
But sometimes when they sat in one or the other's place and drank wine and ate pizza and watched a movie or a political debate, Jessica was overwhelmed with the feeling of being in sync, attuned to Cat.
"Knock it off," she said aloud, and she turned the page. After a while she sighed and gave up pretending to work. It was a pretty day so she went for a walk in Golden Gate Park, just a few blocks away.
The last of the summer flowers were fading but the grass and trees were still trying to look summer green. Jessica weaved in and out of roller skaters, walking briskly to clear her head. She went much further than she had planned and felt pleasantly tired as she unlocked her door.
The door opened opposite. "I thought I heard you. I got my tickets today," Cat said.
Jessica followed Cat into her place. She knew she shouldn't spend time with her. She knew she should have made an excuse and canceled the trip to New York, but in her heart of hearts she didn't want to. She wanted to be with Cat, even if she could never talk to or touch her the way she wanted.
Cat said, "They took your first class upgrade certificate and booked me through same as your tickets so we're all set. I could never have swung first class on my expense account so thanks a lot. I owe you a New York dinner."
"I should say so. I paid for that upgrade by listening to a bored five-year old from Salt Lake to San Antonio," Jessica said lightly. Being happy and carefree around Cat was getting harder to fake. She wanted to be intense and loving.
"Now that's an expensive upgrade," Cat said. "Want some wine?"
"What kind?"
"I've got, lemme see, cabernet and some Chablis."
"Who's the cabernet by?"
"Petzer. Seventy-six. You're so picky."
"Can't help it. Fine wine is my only vice."
"Your only vice, sure."
Jessica toyed momentarily with saying, just as a joke, "Well, fine wine and fine women," but her courage failed her. She wasn't afraid anymore of being a lesbian. But if she told Cat, she'd lose her. "Just about," Jessica said instead.
"Then how come you're always drinking my wine?" Cat demanded. "I want to see this wine cellar' of yours."
They went to Jessica's place and she opened the huge walk-in closet door.
Cat gasped. "There must be a dozen cases!"
"Fourteen in all. If I find a vintage I like, I buy a case and keep it till it's ripe. The ones at the bottom are ready for imbibing."
"Hmmm, how about this zinfandel, no I want this one." Cat drew out a bottle.
"Blanc de Pinot Noir. A very fine choice, Madam. One glass coming right up."
"Just one?" Cat asked with a particularly charming smile that made Jessica swallow hard.
Maybe the fact that it was Friday night and Paul wasn't coming over made Cat seem to want to stay. Jessica kept refilling their glasses. They both got very giddy and tipsy and lay in front of the stereo listening to Jessica's favorite albums. They graduated from the pinot noir to chardonnay. They were crooning to a particularly torchy love-done-me-wrong song when Cat started talking.
"The Jerk's gone. He's history."
"Why?" Jessica asked, her heart pounding a little harder. Paul wasn't coming back. Cat was available. Her mind was fuzzy, but not so fuzzy she didn't tell Herself that nothing had altered between them.
"He said he'd changed — he told me — he swore to it, and I gave him another chance and he hadn't changed at all — he just figured out how to be more diplomatic when he was giving me this macho bullshit line about how I ought not to go out to dinner with male clients unless he was there, and about traveling by myself, and criticizing my cooking, and he kept changing jobs, and wanted to borrow money from me again. I told him to take a hike," Cat said, running out of breath.
"Goodfer you. Here's to no more macho bullshit."
"No more macho bullshit," Cat echoed and she drained her glass. "I need more wine, Jessica," she pouted and Jessica staggered to the closet for another bottle. She thought it was cabernet. Well, it was red, that much Jessica was sure of.
Cat kept talking. "He was pretty good in bed but it isn't everything not when he was such a jerk the rest of the time. I've got stannurds."
"Here's to standards," Jessica said, refilling both of their glasses as she sat down on the floor with a thunk.
"Here's to stannurds," Cat echoed. "Why are the guys who are great in bed always such low life?"
"I wouldn't know," Jessica said. "I've ne —"
"He was a professional sunbather. Watch out for the ones with tans. No more tans."
"Here's to no more tans," Jessica said. She knew she was very drunk and on the verge of making the BIG disclosure.
"No more tans," Cat echoed and then her voice changed. "Uh-oh."
Jessica lay very still on the floor, not at all sure she wasn't going to be just as sick as Cat. Maybe if she stayed very still she would be all right.
"I may die," Cat mumbled as she came back from the bathroom. "I should stick to cheap wine."
"No, cheap wine is even worse."
"Not for me. Did you know it's spotless behind the john?"
"Now that you mention it, no, I didn't know that."
"Well, it's spotless," Cat repeated and she stretched out on the floor again. "I wish it didn't hurt so much."
"Your head?"
"No, my heart," Cat said and her lower lip started to tremble. After a moment, two large tears overflowed the brown eyes and Jessica slid over to Cat. "Oh, Jessica," Cat said and she put her head on Jessica's chest and cried.
She cradled Cat against her breasts and closed her eyes, imagining a hundred wonderful possibilities, pretending there was no Paul and no tears, that Cat would raise her lips to Jessica's.
Cat finally looked up at her, eyes bleary, lips very full. Jessica stared into Cat's eyes, getting lost in the honey brown, and she leaned very slightly toward Cat's beckoning lips, longing for just the briefest touch.
"You're a good friend, Jessica," Cat said and she closed her eyes, buried her face in Jessica's shoulder and passed out quietly.
She held her for a long time, stroking the thick blonde hair. Finally she got up the courage to lightly kiss the smooth forehead. She wiped away the traces of tears and rocked Cat. After a while Cat woke up, was sick again and then she went home "to die."
Bed welcomed her, but sleep did not. Instead, she kept slipping into a drunken daze, images of making love to Cat causing her to groan and tremble. She fantasized about kissing Cat's tantalizing lips, tasting her mouth at last. This is it, she swore. This was the last time I'm going to get drunk over Cat. Promises, promises, Herself said.
Why, now that I've figured out who I am, have I fallen for someone who's not what I am? When will I find someone who is what I am? What is love anyway? Why does red wine always leave such a bad taste in my mouth? Why do I always forget to turn off the kitchen light? Herself did not answer any of these questions.
She was sick, finally, and felt better afterwards.
"Come on, you'll like it, I promise. He's really funny. I can't believe you've never been here," Cat said, pulling a reluctant Jessica up a flight of stairs.
"I don't believe in comedy on demand," Jessica protested again. "I'd rather wait for the
show to be on television when someone else edits out the ones who aren't funny."
"Oh, pooh. Where's your sense of adventure?" Cat gave her name to the hostess and they were escorted to one end of a long table about halfway to the stage. Jessica looked around and decided to make the best of things. She always felt so awful for the young ones. She wanted to coach them on delivery the way she'd been coached. She knew exactly what they went through when the crowd didn't respond, or — even worse — laughed politely.
"My boss is cutting my marketing budget by ten percent," Cat shared while they waited for their two-drink minimum. "I told him I'd probably drop bookings by ten percent."
"How did he take that?" Jessica asked with a grin. She liked the way Cat handled her boss.
"Pretty well, actually. We understand each other most of the time. I told him if the budget's tightening up then we need more money for marketing, to get more bookings. But no, he has an MBA so he knows my job better than I do," Cat frowned ferociously. "The man's an egotistical son-of-a-bitch sometimes."
"Don't badmouth bitches," Jessica said. "Some of my best friends are bitches."
Cat laughed. "Okay, I'll just say he's an asshole."
"That's better. By the way, I'm going to be in a showcase there next week."
"Really? Showcase? Must be the speaker's association."
"Yep. I volunteered for it for the local contacts. I don't think I'd really mind at all if I had more engagements locally. Pays less, but local events aren't quite so wearing."
"I wonder how you do it," Cat said, shaking her head. "I enjoy traveling, but you're off two or three times a month. I don't think I'd like that."
"I'd really like to have more of a pattern to my life. I —" Jessica wanted desperately to say she had given up her traveling ways and Cat could count on her to be around. "I like my new home and I want to stay there more."
"Well, it certainly is dull when you're not around," Cat said.
Jessica's heart leaped and she leaned toward Cat. Cat suddenly smiled like a child on Christmas. "Oh goodie, the show's starting. Let's get these opening acts out of the way. I can't wait for Steve Martin. I saw him two years ago at the Boardinghouse."
Jessica completely ignored the first performer because she was wondering if Cat was hinting . . . maybe unconsciously saying . . . sort of subtly admitting to some feelings for Jessica. Fool, Herself pronounced. She's a little lonely after Paul. There's no more to it than that!
She heard Cat hiss. Cat looked angry.
"Oh, come on girls," the performer on stage said. "Have a sense of humor." There were more hisses.
"What is it with women these days? You gotta give 'em a financial statement before they'll go out with you, take out a loan for the date and whad do ya get," he appealed.
"What you deserve," Cat said darkly. Several people at tables around them snickered.
"Ya get chewed out for not bringing protection along," the performer continued. There were a few sparse laughs among more hisses. He finally retired amid some polite clapping and not so polite boos.
The next act was a vast improvement. Jessica had heard some of the jokes before, but the short fat comic had a wonderful firecracker delivery. His repertoire included famous TV theme songs played on the paper bag.
"God, he was good," Cat gasped as they applauded for him. "After that male chauvinist pig, I was prepared for the worst."
"I didn't know you were such a feminist," Jessica teased.
"I'm not — I mean I am. I wish it weren't a dirty word these days."
"Why do you say that?"
"I don't know. I used to really believe in feminism. I still do as a principle. But somewhere along the way, I got bored. It was the same old thing, the same old complaints. I felt as if nobody was doing anything, just sitting around complaining. So I cancelled my subscription to Ms. and just went about my business."
"I think I know what you mean. I fell out of the movement, too, mostly because I stopped feeling connected to it, represented by it. I've been feeling bad lately, letting other people do all the work."
"How so?"
Someone nearby hissed for them to shut up.
"Hey, this guy's good," Steve Martin announced about himself, strumming his banjo.
Jessica had to admit he was.
Cat leaned across the table. "Didn't I tell you he was funny? Wasn't I right?"
"Yes, yes you were." Jessica took a deep breath to relieve the pressure on her sides.
As they were walking home, Cat picked up the threads of their earlier conversation. "You said other people were doing all the work. What work?" she asked.
"Equal rights for everyone," Jessica said slowly. She decided to take a chance an bring up gay rights. "I'm a real fan of Harvey Milk's."
"I do admire him," Cat said slowly. "I'm not sure I believe in everything he stands for, but sometimes when he's speaking he reminds me of Bobby Kennedy. I was only a girl when he died, but I remember thinking he was so handsome and exciting. When I see him on film now I get cold shivers and I wonder what the world would be like if he'd lived."
"I get the same feelings sometimes," Jessica admitted. "I feel depressed. But now there's something I can believe in, letting people live their own lives. I know I should do something."
"I gave money to a couple of campaigns, but there hasn't really been anything, or anyone, I believed in that much." Cat sighed.
Jessica desperately wanted to talk about subjects which might get an opinion on homosexuality out of Cat. She still didn't have the courage to say, Look, I'm a lesbian, I hope you don't mind. If you mind I'll die, but don't let that worry you.
"I remember how I felt when I first saw Gloria Steinem," Cat volunteered. "I'd been oblivious to the way the world was changing around me. She turned my world over. One day I was worrying about my nails and the next I was a card-carrying women's libber." Cat hung her head, as if she was admitting to some heinous crime.
Jessica smiled in the darkness. "My mom and dad died when I was nineteen. I didn't have anyone else to rely on. I was absorbed in studying for a while, but I don't think I'd have survived college if it hadn't been for the support I got from the women's center. What happened to me?"
"What do you mean what happened to you?" Cat demanded indignantly. "You're a wonderful role model. You teach women how to be smart in the business world and how to get their objectives met, overcome resistance."
"It's not enough. I even make a point in one of my lectures about everyone having to pay rent for their time on earth with some meaningful purpose. What's my purpose? Just making speeches and consulting?"
"What more is there?"
"I don't know. I don't feel very strong, but I should be able to do more. I've toned down my ideals over the years and did make it to the mainstream of the speaker's circuit. Maybe I should get back to the fringe so I can speak my mind."
"I think I'd like to be there when that happens," Cat said seriously.
"When I get ready to break out, you'll be the first to know, I promise," Jessica said, equally seriously.
They stared at each other for two or three of Jessica's tense heartbeats, then Cat grinned. "How'd we get so serious after such a funny show? Come on, I think there's a great science fiction B-movie on."
"A what movie?"
"A very bad science fiction movie. They're great!"
"Bad, but great?"
"Sure, like Invasion of the Bee Girls. The Navy versus the Night Monster. Godzilla movies, you know, the classics."
"Oh. I gather I've missed something." Jessica was almost relieved that they had steered away from more tense subjects. Go slowly, Jessica, Herself warned. Go slowly.
They began watching a perfectly awful movie called The Last Dinosaur. Cat gaily pointed out the flaws in the geological time frame.
"They have human-like creatures co-existing with dinosaurs. At that point, the only mammals around were little tiny mole type animals. And look at the sexism. The airhead photographer drops
her purse and the ape-man don't want it, but an ape-woman keeps it. Really!"
"And why is the black guy carrying a spear? Do any of the white guys carry spears?" Jessica demanded. She was trying to get into the spirit of the movie.
"It would appear not," Cat said sadly. "Stupid, sexist and bigoted. This one's too bad for me. I don't think there's anything else on. Oh well." She turned off the TV. "There really are movies that are bad but not so insulting. Like Godzilla movies. Just silly."
"I don't believe I've ever seen a Godzilla movie."
"Well, I just happen to have the original Godzilla on videotape. This VCR was a complete extravagance but it's great to have my favorite movies on tape. Godzilla. And Attack of the 60 Foot Woman."
"How convenient," Jessica hedged.
"You think it's silly," Cat said accusingly.
"Well," Jessica said slowly, "it feels good to be silly. Let's watch Godzilla."
"Silliness suits you," Cat said. Jessica looked over at her and studied the line of Cat's profile as she watched the movie. What had that remark meant? Anything? Was she just hoping for feelings that weren't there?
Questions, questions, Herself moaned. When are you going to get some answers?
"For my presentation, I'll need a volunteer. You'll have to put up with criticism and a lot of teasing," Jessica announced. There didn't seem to be a lot of eagerness in the crowd.
"I'm game," said a familiar voice, and she turned to find Cat coming up the steps to the stage.
She'd seen Cat once or twice during the course of the showcase. Now Jessica tried to control a blush as she considered her task.
"Image. Would anyone in the audience care to guess what this woman does for a living?" There were a few random guesses. "I heard middle management, banking, and sales."
She gestured to Cat. "Let's take a look. Bright blue suit, pearl pink blouse, an unusual necklace. I'd definitely say not IBM, or banking. Middle management, perhaps. Sales is probably a good guess. But did anybody notice how quickly other jobs were ruled out? Nobody guessed she was a clerk, or a bank teller. Nobody thought she was an engineer, or a computer programmer. Nobody guessed she was a librarian or a nurse. On the other hand, nobody guessed she was a chief executive officer. Why? Can it be that on very little evidence we make snap judgments about people?"
In Every Port Page 8
