Paperback Romance

by Karin Kallmaker

“Come on, doll, I’m going to be late,” Nick called.

  Carolyn emerged from the bedroom, her face flushed as she rushed to get her coat and step into shoes. “And whose fault is it? I already dressed once this morning!”

  “Women,” Nick said. She was pleased with the morning’s extracurricular activities. “It takes so long for you to get yourselves together.”

  Carolyn favored Nick with a slitted, intense glance that hid the robin’s-egg blue Nick was so fond of. “Ha ha,” she snapped.

  “Sorry, love.” Nick opened the door while Carolyn gathered a small satchel containing a book, notebook and sightseeing guide. She wondered what had made Carolyn so touchy lately.

  They took a cab to Covent Garden and Nick forgot about Carolyn’s flash of ill-humor as she transformed into a hyper-tourist, demanding that Nick name every landmark and point out anybody at all who was remotely famous.

  “Okay, okay, just don’t embarrass me by gawking,” Nick said, laughing.

  Carolyn took mock-offense, saying, “I never gawk. I may stare, but I never gawk. Nor, I might add, am I ever agog.” Nick pointed out a famous coloratura who was headed away from them toward the smaller rehearsal studios. “I love her voice,” Carolyn said, sighing. “Okay, I’m agog.”

  “Gee, I never made you agog.”

  “No, but you made me just about everything else.”

  Grinning, Nick pulled Carolyn along to the large hall, the only one that could possibly accommodate the performers for the Symphony of a Thousand. Thousand was an overstatement, but six hundred and fifty performers were not easily staged. “See, it’s a fairly boring concert hall. You’ll get tired of it in three minutes.”

  “So I see. And you can hardly wait to get to work. I can take a hint. Well, I guess I’m going to go poking and prodding into more famous places, darling. Musty palaces today.” Carolyn held up her mouth for a kiss then waved as she headed back on the aisle.

  Nick watched her walk away. She could not believe her good fortune. In the hall, a rapidly growing knot of people gathered at the foot of the stage. Her life was too…too good. But she was realistic enough to expect the other shoe to drop. Still, as long as she had Carolyn, she could survive anything.

  ***

  Carolyn arrived back at the flat tired but pleased. From a fine art poster shop she had purchased prints she thought would match the color scheme she and Sam had discussed. The color was almost irrelevant—both prints were of Mary Cassatt’s most modern works and Carolyn had always liked them the best.

  She stopped short in surprise as she realized she was not alone—Oscar was perched in one of the chairs as if waiting for someone.

  “I hope I did not startle you,” he said. “I called out, but I doubt you could have heard me over the rustling of your parcels.”

  “And the sound of my own pounding heart,” Carolyn added as she went into the bedroom to drop her bags. “Two flights of stairs—in Sacramento, that’s two good reasons to put in an elevator.” She cast herself down on the divan. “Pure laziness, that’s why so many of us Americans are pudgy.”

  “Pudgy? An interesting colloquialism,” Oscar said.

  After a few moment’s silence, Carolyn sat up and said, “Why do I think you have something unpleasant to discuss?” Oscar usually looked completely at ease, but at the moment he was tapping one finger on the arm of the chair—for him, he was positively fidgeting.

  “My dear, I will admit right out that in my life I have liked very few women. I worked with many talented women, and I have admired and supported many more. But I rarely liked them. I’m not absolutely sure I would say I liked Nicolas.”

  Carolyn noted that even when they were alone, Oscar referred to Nick by her full masculine name. “Meaning what?”

  “That I must simply say I like you. You are an unassuming, refreshingly intelligent woman. Therefore, what I must also say is difficult.”

  Carolyn was not very good at confrontation…but she had new strength, and she thought she knew what Oscar was leading up to. It was nothing she hadn’t been stewing over herself for the last day or two. “You want to know if I’m serious and if I’ve thought through all the consequences of being Nick’s girlfriend.”

  Oscar smiled slightly. “As I said, intelligent. I have nurtured Nick through the years and don’t wish to see them wasted. She is on the very edge, the brink of all her dreams, and mine.”

  “And how does my being in her life change that?”

  “It’s not you, my dear. It’s a successful relationship. The edge of Nick’s drive is her will to overcome.”

  “So she must be unhappy and alone to be successful?”

  “No,” Oscar said gravely. “But I believe she is convinced she is invincible now. She believes she can flaunt you under the noses of people she will later need, and they won’t mind. She has really only told one lie, until a few weeks ago.”

  Carolyn sighed. “I know that right now I’m enjoying a tiny window in her life that isn’t quite as much of an uproar as the rest. I also know that I don’t have what it takes to wait with her. I’m only now realizing how much she wants it all—fame and success and then acknowledgment as a woman. Nothing but all of those things will satisfy her.” And it had been easy, she wanted to say, easy to not look forward.

  “And it frightens you?”

  “Not so much frightens as intimidates. I’m not the one to help her achieve those things—I know I’m a distraction. But I also know that for now I’m making her happy and vice versa.” For now. But if she looked forward…well, she’d written enough books to know an ending when she saw one.

  “I don’t believe that Nicolas feels this is temporary.”

  “I know,” Carolyn said. Nick had begun referring to the flat as “our” flat and making other comments that added up to permanence. Carolyn had been trying to find a way to head her off. “I’m not going to lead her on, if that’s what you wanted to know.”

  “I didn’t think you would, my dear, not consciously.”

  Carolyn looked up as Oscar stood. She said, “I suppose I should be angry that you’re interfering in something not your concern.”

  “I know that Nicolas would tell me to mind my own business in not so polite terms.”

  “Since you like me, I suppose you’ll have to trust me.” She followed him to the stairs. “I want Nick to have her dreams—if she had to choose between me and her dreams, well, I don’t flatter myself that she’d even hesitate.”

  “I left off one reason why I like you.” Oscar turned from the top of the stair, and put one finger under Carolyn’s chin. “You are sensible.”

  Carolyn frowned. “Hardly a romantic trait.”

  “But a valuable one. I can see myself out. I’m hoping to catch Nick before the end of rehearsal.”

  Carolyn watched after him until she heard the click of the door at the bottom of the stairs. She thought about what he had said—it didn’t make her feel anything but sad. She didn’t want this time with Nick to end. And even as that thought crossed her mind, she knew it was already ending. She suddenly wanted to cry, but Nick would notice and Carolyn was just not ready to tell Nick why.

  To distract herself, Carolyn looked through the books she purchased from a women’s bookstore near Picadilly Circus. In the back had been a section labeled “Womyn/Womyn.” Her recollection of Publisher’s Weekly reviews had helped her pick out a couple of titles, and the clerk had recommended several more she probably wouldn’t be able to find in the States.

  She’d never paid more than peripheral attention to the reviews on books from women’s presses—she had a lot of time to make up for. There was probably a bookstore near home where she could continue to stock up and learn about the history of her newfound sexuality. Home. Even without Alison, and maybe because of Alison, she had to go back.

  “You’re a beautiful sight. Missed you,” Nick said, after she bounded up the stairs an hour later. She kissed Carolyn lightly, then headed for the bedroom, ruffling her sl
icked-down hair into curls. “I’m going to take a quick shower. Think about what you want to do tonight.”

  Carolyn listened to the water running and thought about what she wanted to do. She wanted to go to a lesbian place. It didn’t matter what kind of place, as long as it was lesbians only. She knew they couldn’t with Nick dressed as a man…she’d be recognized by someone. She’d seen three women in masculine clothes at the bookstore, but their attire was a declaration. To Carolyn they had seemed the antithesis of Nick. Nick didn’t use the masculine part of her nature to express herself as a woman and lesbian, she buried her womanhood in it, waiting. It would erupt someday, but until then—Carolyn was beginning to wonder why Nick wasn’t crazy from the strain of playing such a thorough charade.

  “The concert and choirmasters are top-drawer.” Nick threw her robed body down on the sofa as she toweled her hair. “This is going to be a good recording.”

  “Don’t discount the contribution of the top-drawer conductor,” Carolyn said.

  “You’re good for my ego,” Nick said. She fell over, head finding a pillow. “Wake me in thirty minutes,” she said sleepily.

  Carolyn smiled fondly. Soft legs and the curve of one breast were not quite covered by the large terry cloth robe. She returned to her book, aware that today could be a pattern for a lifetime—not that Nick’s life would ever be totally patterned. And the more famous she became, the less privacy they would have and the more constricted their lifestyle would be. How could she have books with “lesbian” in the title around the house? How could she be a lesbian anywhere except in bed? Why didn’t that seem like enough? Nick would thrive on all of it, while Carolyn knew it was the last kind of existence she wanted.

  And she knew that explaining her feelings to Nick would be hard on both of them. She had to find the right opportunity and the right words. She waited the appointed thirty minutes, then woke Nick with a kiss that left no doubt as to what Carolyn wanted to do with the evening. Leaving would be easier if only her body didn’t respond so eagerly to Nick’s touch.

  Chapter Ten

  Coda; Da Capo al Segno

  Carolyn looked down at the Great Salt Lake, then collapsed back in her seat. Almost home. Even the headset blaring out the inane in-flight movie didn’t give her any escape from the memory of Nick’s silent suffering. She had hoped her careful, gentle announcement wouldn’t hit Nick too hard. But it had. She relived the scene over and over.

  They’d gone dancing and met some people Nick knew. Nick introduced Carolyn as her girlfriend—and that was the moment Carolyn had realized she couldn’t let it go on. She couldn’t submerge herself to the point of putting Nick’s masquerade before her burgeoning self-confidence and esteem. And she saw what Oscar meant, that Nick couldn’t afford to lie so boldly. Some things people wouldn’t forgive. She knew Nick felt different, so, later, when they were alone, she’d tried to be gentle. She’d tried to explain that Nick’s life couldn’t encompass Carolyn too, not now. Nick had too much to lose.

  “Well, let me bloody well bother about that,” Nick had retorted. “I love you.”

  Even now, Carolyn was seeing Nick’s face again. Three little words…uttered with such conviction that Carolyn had been flooded with guilt. “Nick, don’t,” she had said before she could help herself.

  Nick had frozen. “Well that’s that,” she said finally.

  “I have to go home.”

  “Of course you do. I was a fool to think otherwise.”

  “I’m very fond of you—”

  “Please don’t.” One hand slashed the air, silencing Carolyn. “I obviously misread the situation.”

  Carolyn had found it very hard to find her voice. “Nothing is turning out like I thought it would. It would be so easy to pretend to be a man and a woman. But I can’t pay the price.”

  “What price do you pay?” Nick’s voice was cold and hard. “I’m the woman passing as a man.”

  “I couldn’t be a lesbian.”

  “I don’t know what you call what we do in bed, but I call it lesbianism.”

  “There’s more than that, so much more I can only guess at it. What we do in bed is just the tip of the iceberg,” Carolyn said. “I wouldn’t have thought something I never knew I was would mean so much in so little time. I want to be a lesbian, open and proud. I want to learn what that means, grow and change as I learn. I have to tell my family. You probably won’t recognize me in a few years, but I’ve got to do it.”

  “Then do it. Who am I to criticize you for doing what you feel you have to do?” Nick had averted her eyes and that had been the end of the talk. They were extremely polite to each other and Nick had been very solicitous of Carolyn’s well-being. She had even seen Carolyn off at the airport. Even though she understood why Nick was withdrawn, Carolyn had longed for a last word as lovers, a goodbye as lovers. The last kiss had been restrained and ended with a little moan from Nick who had murmured goodbye and walked away.

  Carolyn pulled off the headset, irritated with the sexist premise of the movie. There was only one way to describe how she felt, trite though it may be: her heart was heavy. She had so much to thank Nick for—courage, passion, aspiration—and she had only ended up hurting her. She didn’t want to undo one moment of her time with Nick, but she wished she could change the hurt.

  ***

  “Auntie Carl, Auntie Carl.” Voices squealed behind her. Carolyn wheeled around and braced herself for her two exuberant nephews. Seconds later she was sitting on the floor in the airport while her nephews crawled all over her, exclaiming over her new clothes, poking her traveling case which bulged in a way they were no doubt interpreting—correctly—as presents.

  “Okay, okay, you two, give Auntie a chance to breathe,” Margot said as she pulled one affectionate boy off her sister-in-law while the other eluded his mother’s grasp. Carolyn laughed, overwhelmed by the show of cupboard love. “Boys, I said behave.” Margot didn’t raise her voice, but both sons quieted down while still favoring Carolyn with large puppy eyes that asked for treats.

  Carolyn knew that as soon as the presents were distributed they’d both forget about Auntie Carl until they wanted to be tucked up and told a story. Still, it felt good to be loved, even if it was just for her souvenirs. Deep in the suitcase were the earrings she had bought for Alison; she didn’t know if she’d ever get the chance to give them to her.

  She said very little as Margot drove her home; she was exhausted from the day spent between countries and she didn’t want to talk about what she’d done in Europe. She hadn’t mentioned Nick in any of her postcards to Curt and Margot. But she planned to tell them everything, provided her courage didn’t fail. If she couldn’t tell her family, then why had she left Nick? She would trust the love they had always shown her.

  The boys were poring over their picture books and sounding out the long Dutch words as Margot brought her up to date on the happenings in her family. Carolyn considered her sister-in-law. Margot was a generous, loving woman who was a barracuda when her home, husband or children were threatened. Would Margot regard Carolyn’s lesbianism as a threat?

  “So when are you going to show us pictures?” Margot turned the car down Carolyn’s street. “Maybe Curt will decide he could handle Europe.”

  “As soon as they’re developed. Listen, Margot, I need to talk to you and Curt about something. When do you have an evening free? It’s not urgent, but…soon.”

  “How about Friday?” Margot looked at Carolyn quizzically. “You look exhausted and excited at the same time. Are we going to be talking about romance? What was that extra trip to London all about?”

  “It’s got something to do with romance, but trust me, Margot, you’re way off. I just need to explain something.”

  “Come for dinner, then,” Margot said.

  “And tell us a story,” two voices chimed from the back seat.

  “Okay, okay. I’ll head over around six. Thanks for the lift.”

  Carolyn unlocked her door, overwhe
lmed with thoughts of Nick and Alison, yet with a surging joy to be home again. She could already seethat Sam’s work was done. She eagerly pulled up the blinds, gasping as light flooded her living room.

  It was completely different and she immediately loved every inch of it. Sam had worked wonders without changing the fundamental simplicity of the house. There was textured pale peach wallcovering along one long wall, and a gray-blue rug that brought out the grain in the worn oak parquet. The sofa and side chairs had been reupholstered in tweeded blue and peach and ivory and the jewel-toned tapestry Carolyn’s mother had woven was now highlighted by the pale wall behind it. It was lovely and comfortable, all at the same time. The Mary Cassatt prints would look spectacular.

  In a daze, Carolyn wandered to her bedroom. It featured new colors, too, and a new bed with a brass headboard that formed a love knot. Sam had worked wonders. Her office was untouched, except for new rugs on the floor that echoed colors from other rooms. The kitchen was the same, but there was a note on the refrigerator from Sam that warned her about ideas for the kitchen.

  Carolyn smiled and told herself she was happy to be home. She told herself she had no regrets. New interiors, new exteriors. She had a new life to lead.

  She closed all the blinds and tumbled into bed, noticing right away that the mattress was a vast improvement over the old one. The fresh sheets felt wonderful. She was glad to be back in her old room, glad to be in a place that didn’t remind her of…anything in Europe. The problem was that despite the new decor, too much of the house reminded her of Alison.

  ***

  The next morning she still felt a little jet-lagged as she unpacked, did some laundry and wandered round the house. She didn’t quite know what to do with herself. The silence of the house was deafening. Carolyn was watching the cup of noodles boiling in the microwave when something inside her snapped. She opened the door, heedless of the hot liquid bubbling down the side of the cup, and dumped the contents in the sink. She was not going back to hiding in the house, waiting for someone else to do something. Alison would or would not ever speak to her again. But whether she would or would not go back to being a fungus was up to her and no one else.