To the pulsing beat of Alannah Myles, she cleaned out the freezer and refrigerator, made a grocery list and then set off for the store. She’d read somewhere that it wasn’t a good idea to shop on an empty stomach and a good old-fashioned American burger sounded like ambrosia—and not a fast-food burger either. She’d try the little place Alison had once taken her to. It was clear across town, but it would be about as far from sitting in front of the television eating plastic food as she could get. And the drive was lovely with everything green and the last of the spring flowers in bloom. The thought of Alison was accompanied by a pang, but the chances of running into Alison were slim. Now that she thought about it, Alison was rarely in her office on Thursday afternoons so she was safe. She sang as she drove and could picture Nick covering her ears. Ah, Nick. It was good to be home, but she was already starting to miss Nick’s face, and eyes and hands and…well, everything else. Had she been incredibly stupid to walk away from that magic?
Since the lunch crowd had left, she found a table facing the patio off the street. She waited for her meal in the cool shade of the red-and-white striped umbrella. Sunlight tickled her arms as it filtered through the scarlet blooms of the oleander bush behind her. Midtown was on a different time schedule, she decided. The cars appeared to not be going the speed limit. People didn’t walk, they strolled. Across H Street she could see shoppers casually examining the window of a toy store. Other diners were reading newspapers. The waiter stopped to chat when he delivered her salad and burger—nothing to say really, just how nice the weather was. Carolyn thought she could have been in a Parisian cafe, enjoying life, but everything around her was familiar. It was home.
“Hi, stranger. Your tan says you’ve been somewhere very sunny.”
Carolyn jumped. Not Alison, but Alison’s assistant. “Hi, Devon. How are you?” She suddenly realized she was scared to death at the idea of seeing Alison. She’d written to Alison that she felt the same way as she always had about her. That was true as far as it went, but she hadn’t understood what those feelings were. She couldn’t let Alison discover them, either.
“Overworked as always—I’m ordering take-out. I’m slaving as usual while the boss gallivants around a baseball field.” He hesitated, looking as if he’d like to join her, but also as if he thought it might not be a good idea.
“Please,” Carolyn said, “have something to drink while you wait. I recommend slow sipping, feeling the sun on your face and appreciating the breeze.”
Devon sat down opposite her and ordered a tall lemonade from the waiter who appeared from nowhere. The two men discussed just what a tall lemonade meant and Carolyn realized, in mid-swallow, that they were flirting. She choked and then was glad of an excuse for her rapidly reddening face. Devon was gay…so how could Alison have reacted the way she had? Maybe she didn’t know about Devon.
Carolyn studied Devon when he wasn’t looking. As they talked, she realized that if she’d had “lesbian eyes” in the past she’d have seen that Devon was gay. She’d always thought him good-looking, with smooth black skin and enigmatic eyes. It wasn’t his gray slacks and white shirt, or the red and navy blue tie loosened at his collar. Just something…different, something more open, stronger and yet gentler than what she thought of as typically male. And what do I know about typical males? Absolutely nothing, she told herself. It was clear from his choice of non-work-related topics that he knew something was wrong between Alison and Carolyn—he hadn’t hesitated to talk about work in the past.
He had finished his lemonade, his takeout was bagged and ready, before Carolyn found the courage to blurt out, “How is she?”
“She’s fine.” Devon tensed as if he would stand up, then remained in his chair. “She’s okay. I, uh, gathered the surprise didn’t go over too well.”
“She was the one who was surprised,” Carolyn said slowly. “If…if you wanted to try to mend fences with her, how would you go about it?”
Devon looked at her for a minute, then one side of his mouth quirked slightly. “Make her mend her half, to begin with. I know you had some sort of disagreement, but I don’t think I’m telling tales if I say she’s miserable about it. She might not know you want to talk.”
“But I wrote…” Carolyn let her voice trail away. “It’s not your problem, but thank you.”
“My pleasure. Well, I have to get back. Next time I see you maybe you’ll have another Carly Vincent sizzler under one arm.”
“Don’t count on it,” Carolyn said. “Carly has lost touch with her audience…so to speak.” She was pretty sure Devon was gay, but how did she let him know they now had something in common. A secret hand signal?
Devon smiled. “She’s too irrepressible not to get back in touch. See you ’round.”
She watched him leave and grinned when she saw the waiter watching him too. His belief in Carly Vincent’s tenacity was very kind, but Carolyn had no intention of getting back in touch with the old audience for her romances. Carly Vincent had contracted a condition fatal to heterosexual romance and Carolyn Vincense really needed to think about her future.
But what about getting in touch with a new audience? She froze in mid-chew. Now that was an idea worth pursuing. It would take some research, but she’d always been good at that. By the time she’d finished lunch and bought her groceries she couldn’t wait to get started.
***
She dove into her research with an intensity she’d never felt in college—this research was about herself. She found the women’s and gay bookstores, made some extensive acquisitions, and then bought copies of the trade magazines that dealt with books for gay and lesbian readers. She studied them as she had studied similar publications dealing with romances and mainstream publishing. She noted themes, controversies and critical focus. She began typing notes into her computer and laughed at herself when she titled the document “Lesbian 101.” After a while she found she had to divide the document into pieces: sex, politics, living arrangements, the law, family relationships, children, coming out, history…the project grew bigger and bigger. As an ex-English major, she most enjoyed the articles and books about women poets and authors of the past. Women’s studies was an entire world she’d known existed, but had never personally explored. It was high time.
After two solid days she was daunted by what she did not know. It would be quite some time before she wrote anything reflecting her new view of herself and her world. She had successfully put Nick out of her mind and ignored the continued silence from Alison. Sometimes, though, in the middle of the night, her body would become molten with desire—images of Nick fanned the fire higher and higher. But when she closed her eyes it was Alison’s dark hair and glistening body that intensified her passion. She found it hard to believe that only a few short months ago she had decided once and for all she was frigid. She wanted to see Alison, but dreaded it. She suspected her heart would confirm something she was sure Alison would reject, feelings that could jeopardize whatever friendship they could salvage.
Despite her absorption with her research, her appointment with Samantha Beckwith to discuss the completed work and expenditures was a welcome diversion. Now she knew why she felt flustered and tongue-tied when Samantha walked through the door—Samantha was gorgeous.
“You have to go from room to room and rhapsodize about everything I did,” Samantha announced with a teasing smile. “I want r-a-v-e reviews.”
“That’ll be easy. There isn’t anything I don’t love.” They wandered from the living room to dining room and spent a long time in the kitchen, contemplating a change of tile and countertop to avoid the expense of further renovations. When they moved to the bedroom, Carolyn was unreserved in her praise. “I love this room the most. I feel like a grown up, and the new bed is wonderful.”
“That’s gratifying. It was a real find,” Samantha said. Carolyn thought Sam must be very pleased because she was absolutely blushing. Her dark cheeks were stained with red. They left the bedroom and Samantha hesitated at t
he door of Carolyn’s office. “Have you given any thought to this room?”
“I don’t think I want to change anything,” Carolyn said. “I like the new area rugs.” She led the way into the room, realizing too late that some of her new books—Lesbian Love Advisor, Sex Variant Women in Literature and More Dykes To Watch Out For—were stacked on the desk.
She saw Sam hesitate, then put her hand on the top book. “I love these cartoons, don’t you?” Then she was examining all of the other books, mentioning the ones she’d read.
After a prolonged silence, Carolyn finally found her voice. “It’s a new field of study,” she said with a shaky laugh. “I…learned a lot while I was away.”
“Welcome, then,” Samantha said with a reassuring smile. Her smile faded. She looked puzzled and started to say something but shook her head. “So, umm, you don’t want to do anything else in here?”
“Not yet,” Carolyn said. “It’s a work in progress.”
Sam paused at the front door. “Would you like to come to a softball game, meet some women?”
Carolyn gasped, stared at her feet, then said with what she knew must be an idiotic smile, “Sure.” She wrote down the date and time of the next game. “I’ll be there. It sounds like fun.”
When Sam left, Carolyn could have sworn she was muttering something about being a fool.
***
Dinner with Curt, Margot and the boys was the usual contained uproar, but the boys settled into bed readily enough to listen to Carolyn’s promised story. She made it a good one, spinning it out for a long time, and finished when her audience nodded off. She was only prolonging her own agony.
She shut the boys’ door quietly and went downstairs and out to the patio where Margot and Curt would be enjoying the warm May evening. Memorial Day weekend promised to be a hot one, as always, with temperatures reaching the one hundred degree mark by the Monday holiday.
Carolyn paused at the screen door, giving Margot and Curt a few more moments alone as they sat quietly talking in the near dark. I can do this. She had not mentally prepared for any alternatives—she could only hope that the affection they always showed her was true. She took a deep breath, then stepped out on the patio. “You must live for this moment every day, when they’re asleep.”
“You can’t imagine,” Margot said. “I love them, but the best part of the day is still bedtime. Do you want some more coffee?”
“No, I’m fine.”
There was silence, and before Curt or Margot could bring up another subject, Carolyn got up to turn on the patio light. She wanted to see their faces. Then she sat on the edge of her lounger and leaned toward them.
“I have to tell you the rest about Europe. The pictures don’t say what happened to me.”
“Margot was right,” Curt said. “You look different. Pleased, but—dare I say it? You look older, too.”
“It wasn’t that long,” Carolyn said, “but I do feel older. I had an affair. The most incredible, passionate affair imaginable. It opened new doors in me. It opened new worlds to me. I’ll never be the same.”
“But why aren’t you…” Margot’s question faded away as Carolyn smiled ruefully.
“I’ll get into why I’m no longer having an affair. What I want to concentrate on now…what I have to tell you is…” Carolyn stumbled for words. All the research and rehearsal in the world didn’t make this easy. “Okay. I had an affair with another woman. I found out I’m a lesbian.”
Curt was still. Margot’s eyes went round as she stared at Carolyn.
“Nobody pushed me. I didn’t do it because I hate men, or because I was curious or lonely. I found myself incredibly attracted to another woman and I acted on my feelings. Now I know why the marriage didn’t work, why dating never felt right. And I’ve discovered a beautiful world of possibility that I can’t wait to explore. I couldn’t keep my discovery from you.”
To Carolyn’s dismay, tears trickled down Margot’s face. “Margot, I’m sorry this has upset you—”
Margot waved a hand at her, interrupting. “No, no it isn’t you. It’s…Curt, you tell her while I get a Kleenex.” She hurried inside.
Curt looked stricken. “What do I say, Carrie? Congratulations?”
“No. But don’t worry about me. Save your congratulations for when I find a nice woman and settle down.” Cripes, she thought to herself—I still want the same thing I ever did. She wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.
He smiled slightly. “You deserve the best, you know. I’ll try not to worry—but you are my baby sister. Nothing’s too good for you.” His smile broadened. “And I’m proud of your courage. I’m glad you told me. I just don’t know what to say.” He ducked his head and muttered in an embarrassed brotherly fashion, “And I’ll always love you. You should know that.”
Carolyn gave a sigh of relief. He’d said everything she could possibly hope for. “But what upset Margot?”
Curt looked up again. “She got a letter from her aunt in Toronto a few weeks ago. A cousin of hers, her age, died of AIDS. Nobody in the family knew he was sick because he stayed away. He couldn’t find the courage to tell them.”
“Jerome was my first crush,” Margot said from the patio doorway, a tissue box in hand. “He was so dashing and adult. I hadn’t seen him in years, though.” She sat down and Curt put his arm around her. “He died in a hospice in New York and my aunt can’t forgive herself because she knows she discouraged honesty from him. If I’d kept up correspondence maybe he would have told me, or let me know he was sick—but I was just a little girl to him.” Her eyes glittered with tears. “When I read the letter I thought to myself if either of my boys are gay I pray that I can make them trust me enough to tell me. I don’t ever want to lose them to silence.” She broke down again as the tears spilled over.
Carolyn sniffed and Curt’s eyes were glittering. Carolyn reached for the tissue box. “I think I feel a group hug coming on.”
When the tears stopped, Carolyn found herself telling them about Nick and why it wouldn’t have worked. Margot told her she should get on the next plane back to London. Curt said she’d done the right thing.
“I can tell you two are going to be a big help with my love life,” Carolyn said.
“I reserve the right to look over anyone you might be considering,” Curt said. “Just like Dad would have.”
“Do you think Mom and Dad—” Carolyn began. Curt was already nodding.
“Of course they would have,” Margot said. “Look at the two great kids they raised. Now my folks, that’s another story.” Curt groaned in agreement and the conversation turned to in-laws and Carolyn found herself on the receiving end of lots of unsolicited advice about choosing a good mate.
When Carolyn got home she sat on the edge of her new bed and cried. She was pretty sure she was crying because she was happy. And maybe she was crying because the more she read, the more she realized how lucky she was to be gay and still have her family’s love.
***
Alison stood awkwardly a few feet back of second base, staring at Sam’s back. Under other circumstances she and Sam would have been standing together at second base, watching the spectators, or pumping each other up for the game. They’d been buddies and Alison missed it. She didn’t have so many friends that she could afford to lose one. She trudged to the pitcher’s mound on the excuse of talking to the pitcher during her warm-ups, then walked toward second base, her steps slowing as she reached the spot where Sam graced the playing field.
“I miss being your friend,” Alison said softly.
Sam smiled, a mixture of regret and resignation. “I miss you too. I’m sorry I messed it up by falling in love with you,” she said in a low voice. “But hey, I’m recovering. And I want you to remember that I’ll be your friend for a lot longer than we were ever lovers. And I can prove it.” Her expression lightened and there was an unmistakable twinkle in her eyes.
Why, Alison asked herself, why don’t I love this woman back? “Okay, prove
it.” She met Alison’s gaze for a moment, then lifted her chin in the direction of the smattering of onlookers in the stands along the third-base line. Alison turned, shading her eyes, trying to see what Sam meant.
The centerfielder joined them, saying, “New woman in the stands, guys. Top row, two from the left. Yowza, what legs.”
Then Alison saw her—her—standing on the top row of the bleachers. She was digging in a satchel, triumphantly producing a pair of sunglasses. Alison knew she only had a few seconds before Carolyn started to study the players. So she stared. The jeans were cut tight and the legs much longer than Alison remembered. The fair skin glowed with a light tan. The bright white of a shirt was dazzling. A rose splashed across one breast and Alison hungrily absorbed the tantalizing strip of browned skin between the shirt and jeans. Alison wanted in the worst way to see it up close. The sun turned Carolyn’s hair to gold, but the sunglasses made her expression mysterious. Alison realized then that Carolyn had seen her. To her amazement, Carolyn waved casually, then stared back, hands on hips that had never seemed so sexy.
“Hey, McNamara, stop drooling and get your butt into right field,” the coach shouted. Alison blushed furiously and hurried to her position, hoping Carolyn hadn’t heard.
Sam’s voice followed her. “So am I your friend, or what?”
***
The way Alison saw it, she had limited options. She could concentrate on her game and ignore Carolyn. Fat hairy chance. Or she could go all out and try to make every catch look spectacular and have the game of her life, displaying all her machisma for the gal of her dreams. It was not something she could count on. Basically, she wanted only one thing—not to make a fool of herself.
She partially succeeded. She overthrew second base on an easy force out and got caught off first base trying to steal. It could happen to anyone, right? By the top of the ninth they were behind one run and Alison was pretty sure she’d made it through the game respectably. Sam had led off the bottom of the inning with a double and been advanced to third on a sacrifice fly, so now she represented the tying run. Then the batter before her grounded out, leaving her facing two outs. She’d represent the winning run if only somehow she made it around the bases.
Paperback Romance Page 17
