“Oh, darling, you’re not straight are you?”
“Why, won’t they let you in the bar?”
“Good comeback. I can see we’re going to get along just fine. Witty and daring are my favorite flavors. So you don’t mind going out to play with Aunt Karen?”
“You don’t have to go,” Celia said.
“No, I want to. I haven’t been out to play for a long time.”
“You do understand what kind of a bar we’re talking about?” Celia inquired.
“Yes, maybe we should lay a wager to see who gets a date first.”
“Maggie!” Celia said.
“I was just kidding.”
“It’s never too late, darling, to switch sides. I saw you turning heads today.”
“Karen, stop it.”
“You’re awfully protective, Celia. Is there something I should know about you two?”
“Drink your beer.”
“Yes, mommy.”
Karen insisted they leave the truck and take her Jaguar sedan to town. “I do not ride in trucks, and this way I will spend a few days at the ranch and then drive one of you back, preferably Maggie. We need to talk.”
There was no arguing with Karen as they drove an average speed of ninety toward Phoenix. Maggie was more than slightly apprehensive about going to a gay bar. And once in the parking lot of The Biz, she admitted her fright.
“All first experiences create fright, even birth, but we all survived that. Give it an hour, then we’ll talk.”
Celia took her hand, “A bar’s a bar, only this one is full of women.”
Maggie felt acutely self-conscious as she put her Corona to her lips. Karen watched her. Celia was trading gossip with the bartender.
“So you were married?”
Maggie still wore her wedding ring. She hadn’t given it much thought. She twisted it on her finger. “I guess I am a marked woman.”
“Where is he now?”
“He died last year.”
“Oh, death. Definitely a twenty-questions faux pas. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t know why I still wear it. Habit, I guess.”
“So are you picking up any new habits hanging around with a bunch of dykes?”
“A change of heart, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“I wouldn’t be the first, would I?”
“No. Nor will you be the last.”
“Were you always a lesbian?”
Karen signaled to the bartender for two more Coronas.
“No, I was married once, to a stockbroker in California. I ran a gallery there and fell in love with a talented young female artist. Strangest thing I ever did, but it was the right thing. I realized a lot about myself, moved to Jerome, and have lived quite happily ever since.”
“Are you living together now?”
“Oh, no, my darling. I’m easily bored, and home-on-the range is not my scene. Not yet, at least. Let’s just say I have a few girlfriends, and we understand one another for the most part. I’m not into complications.”
“Oh,” Maggie replied, not knowing what else to say.
“I’m not all that bad. I’m just hell to live with. Come dance with me.”
“Do I have to?”
“Yes.”
Maggie felt herself letting go as she became part of the mass of sweating, throbbing humanity moving to the primordial beat. Sweaty and smiling, Karen and Maggie returned to the bar.
Celia looked on curiously. “Do you like it?”
“Yeah,” Maggie said, slipping to Celia’s slang. Harold had hated yeah and insisted on yes. But Maggie liked the way Celia said it, a lingering, well-thought-out response. Yeah. Emphatic and full of life.
She looked around, scanning the crowd. It was a diverse group. Women laughing, talking, kissing, making up, and inevitably breaking up. Couples, old and new, the tender and the hard-hearted, the wounded and the slingers of arrows. It wasn’t so different, and it wasn’t so scary. It wasn’t the bizarre underground life she’d been led to believe.
On the way home Celia and Karen told her dyke stories, the funny and the sad stories of themselves and their friends. Slightly drunk, Maggie laughed hysterically.
Maggie lay in bed thinking back over the stories and their lighthearted sadness. The idea of accepting one’s course in life without regret struck Maggie with sudden force.
I want to be like that. Maggie smiled into the darkness of her room, and sat up hungry. It felt good to be hungry after seeing and experiencing new things.
She didn’t bother to switch on the light in the kitchen. She preferred the serenity of the darkness; the dark gave mystery to the objects in the room; the light stole dark’s autonomy in its blanket visibility. Maggie thought she was alone until she saw the burning orange end of Karen’s cigarette from across the room.
“I thought I heard someone up,” Karen said. “Couldn’t sleep?”
“I was suddenly hungry.”
“What are you making?” Karen asked as Maggie pulled stuff from the fridge.
“A sandwich. Want one?”
“Please. Do you have any provolone?” Karen said as she stepped behind Maggie to peer in the fridge.
Their sandwiches made, they sat on the couch and ate.
“You’re staying the summer?”
“Yes, I’m taking a hiatus from my real life.”
“And what is your real life?”
“I don’t know anymore.”
“Maggie, I want you to stay with me for a few days. You’re living in an isolated moment here, it would be a good idea to step out and get some renewed perspective. I’ll take care of everything, so there is nothing to be frightened of. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Celia stood holding the coffee pot in midair looking utterly dismayed.
“You’re doing what?”
“I’m going to spend a few days in Jerome with Karen. I just think it would be a good idea.”
Celia knew it was Karen’s idea, and she couldn’t quite figure out the reasoning behind it. But Karen was like that, a strange instigator.
Celia smiled and said, “Well, I’ll miss you dreadfully. You will be coming back?”
Maggie walked over and slung her arm casually over Celia’s shoulders. “Of course. I wouldn’t want to lose the best quarters in the house to another wandering guest.”
“Maggie, I don’t want you to be a guest. I want you to live here—even if it’s just for a while—for as long as you like. Think about it, okay?” Celia said, her eyes full of the intensity of the request.
“Only if I can have some java,” Maggie said, smiling and holding out her empty coffee mug.
“I mean it.”
“I know you do.”
Celia watched Maggie and Karen pull out onto the dirt road, and she felt suddenly lonely. Maybe being left again was what she needed to startle her into some form of action.
Climbing the winding road to Jerome, Maggie looked at the digital clock on the dashboard and thought about Celia, wondering what she was doing.
Karen looked over at her between maneuvering curves. “Miss her already?”
“Who?” Maggie replied absently.
“You know.”
“Queer, isn’t it?”
“Appropriate, I think.”
Karen’s rambling three-story house was nestled among foliage on a secluded hillside at the edge of town. Karen gave Maggie a room on the third floor beneath dormer windows that looked out at desert valleys and mountaintops.
Maggie put her sandals on, then lay back on the bed, her arms folded behind her head, to wait for Karen to call her. They were going to dinner at a friend’s.
Julia and Sidney’s house was on the other end of town. It was half living quarters and half art gallery. One side was glass from floor to roof and overlooked the entire valley, a postcard vision of nature.
After dinner they had coffee on the deck. Maggie found herself thinking about Celia and how much she had come to like doin
g the woman thing, making dinner, having coffee, talking. No pressure, just the simplicity of likeness. She admired and envied Julia and Sidney with their well-honed lifestyle. It all seemed so pleasant and organized.
Afterward on the street Karen asked, “What did you think?”
“About what?”
“Julia and Sidney, the whole couple thing.”
“Is that what dinner was all about? Educating me into the ways of lesbian life? If it was, it was hardly necessary. You’re not selling me on anything I haven’t already realized.”
“And what have you realized?”
“That my life is taking on a sense of direction and that if I hang out with one person long enough I’ll probably change my hairstyle to match my significant other.”
Karen laughed. “You do have to admit they are awfully cute, little matching versions of each other with slight alterations. But that is what is so humorous. It’s to be expected, though. Live with someone long enough, and you get to look like her.”
“Is that why you don’t do the couple thing? No sapphic likenesses for you?”
“What an astute woman you are. Broken molds have difficulty finding perfect matches. I’m still open, honey.”
They walked in the moonlight through the quiet streets.
Passing the local bar, Karen insisted they have a nightcap. They sat talking to the flamboyant bartender who filled their ears with local gossip until two in the morning. Maggie thought it funny that everyone Karen introduced her to assumed that she was a lesbian. And she didn’t really care to straighten the matter out.
On the third day of Maggie’s absence, Celia forced herself to talk to Amanda. Although she had dodged her for the better part of a week, this time she answered the call. She picked up the phone seconds before Amanda began the tedious list of her activities. She wanted her mother to know just where to find her and at what hour, indicating in each message that she expected a prompt response.
“Celia, is my mom there?”
“No, Amanda. She went to Jerome to stay with a friend for a few days.”
“What friend? She didn’t tell me she had any other friends there except you.”
“This is a new friend, Amanda.”
“She went to stay with someone she just met?” Amanda said, incredulous that her mother would do such a thing.
“In a manner of speaking, yes. But Karen is an old friend of mine.”
“Let me get this straight. This woman is a friend of yours, but you didn’t go with them. My mom is with someone she hardly knows in a strange town. Is this place still in Arizona?”
“Yes, it’s just up the road.”
“When is she coming back?”
“Soon.”
“When is that?”
“Amanda, contrary to your notions, your mother is a grown woman, quite capable of taking care of herself. If she wants to go off somewhere and see some new things, it shouldn’t really concern you.”
“Well, she’s not that stable, you know.”
“What does that mean?”
“I mean that after Dad died she got kind of freaky. In fact, one day I found her outside burning Dad’s shoes.”
Celia smiled. Oh, Maggie, you naughty little creature. “I’m sure she had a good reason.”
“For torching a pair of shoes?”
“Amanda, you need to get on with your own life and leave your mother’s alone. I’ll have her call you when she gets home.”
“Isn’t there a number where I can reach her?”
“No, I’m afraid the nudist colony doesn’t allow phone calls.”
“What!”
“Good-bye, Amanda,” Celia said as she replaced the receiver.
Libby found Celia chuckling to herself.
“What could possibly be so amusing?” Libby asked.
“I have a better question. What happened to your generation to make you all so uptight and humorless?”
“Don’t fuck with me,” Libby snarled as she left the room.
Celia looked out the window, thinking, No, my darling, I shan’t any longer.
* * *
Life at the ranch wasn’t the same without Maggie. Celia and Libby were at each other’s throats without Maggie’s pacifying presence to temper their behavior. They were forced to acknowledge how bad things had become. Every moment together was a strain, so they avoided each other.
The sky turned crimson and orange as Celia sat by the pool. If Maggie was here we would be sitting together, yakking up a storm, watching the sunset.
Instead, she saw Libby, dirty from the clay, leaning against the studio, smoking a cigarette. Why do relationships get like this? One standing here, one there, and nothing to say between them? Celia went inside to get another beer. Getting slowly tanked by the pool seemed like a good idea.
In the middle of her ruminations, she became possessed with the idea of talking to Maggie. She would admit to missing her because she knew now that that was Karen’s purpose in keeping Maggie. Karen obviously thought that there was more to their friendship than either Celia or Maggie was willing to admit.
“Hello.” Karen’s voice jingled over the line.
“Hi, how’s it going up there?” Celia asked, trying to be casual. If she blamed the call on Amanda she might be able to slink past Karen’s over-inquisitive mind.
“Missing someone?”
“How is she doing?”
“She’s the new belle in town. I’ve been asked several times if she’s up for grabs.”
“Well, she’s not.”
“Why? Are you laying claim?”
“Karen, please, just let me talk to her,” Celia said, trying to keep exasperation and frustration from creeping into her voice.
Maggie picked up the phone, feeling a little flushed from the wine and the thought of talking to Celia. She studied her reflection in the oval mirror that hung in the hallway. She tucked in a wisp of hair that had gotten loose from the rest.
“Hello. How are you?” The familiar voice made Celia smile.
“Wondering when you’re going to grace us with your presence. Actually, we’re wondering. Amanda’s called every day.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. She’s become a perfect nuisance.”
“No, she just misses you, and so do I. The ranch just isn’t the same without you. In fact, if you don’t get here soon Libby and I will probably kill each other.”
“Celia…”
“Yes,” Celia said, her heart dropping to her stomach.
“I want to stay for a while. If it’s all right with you.”
“Stay with Karen?” Celia said, alarmed.
“No, with you, silly. You know, roomies.”
“That sounds wonderful, perfectly wonderful. When are you coming home?”
“Tomorrow, as a matter of fact.”
“Good.”
That night Celia went to bed thinking, I don’t care what this is, but it’s better than anything I’ve had for a while. She’s staying, and that’s all that matters.
* * *
Maggie stood in the hall.
“Let’s take a look,” Karen said, examining Maggie. She was wearing a pair of long khaki shorts, a pressed white shirt, and a vest of southwestern design. She was sporting a new pair of brown Birkenstocks and a silver ankle bracelet.
“I feel absolutely ridiculous.”
“You look absolutely gorgeous. I’d fuck you in a second. Given the chance, of course.”
Karen had taken her to Phoenix and shopped for clothes. Karen picked them out, made Maggie model, and then purchased them. There had been protest on all points. But Maggie had to admit that her swarthy companion had good taste. Karen had Maggie’s hair cut shoulder-length so that her natural curls became evident, with soft locks encircling her face and green eyes. She looked good. She also looked ten years younger. She was tanned, lean, and well-dressed. In a matter of days, Karen had turned Maggie into a tasteful, dignified, drop-dead gorgeous, femme dyke. Wouldn’t Celia be pleased wit
h what Karen had done to her Barbie doll!
“Okay, now it’s time to hang with the women folk,” Karen said, holding the door.
Maggie looked at her, uncertain.
“C’mon, have some balls. It’ll do you good.”
When they walked into the bar, Maggie turned heads. She attributed it to being new in a small town, but Karen smiled mischievously. They sat at a table with Sidney and Julia. A young woman was with them.
“This is Emily. You guys just missed her the other night. She came up with friends from California,” Julia said.
Maggie took the proffered hand. Emily met her gaze, and her brilliant blue eyes seemed to smile in welcome. She was slim and muscular, dressed in a sleeveless shirt and shorts, her light brown hair twisted into a ponytail.
Karen ordered beers.
“Maggie is staying with our friend Celia as a summer apprentice in her ceramic studio,” Julia told Emily.
“Sounds like you’re going to have an exciting summer. All women, I take it?” Emily said, looking at Maggie inquisitively.
Maggie nodded her head in agreement and took a sip of beer. The music started, and they watched as a woman sang and played the guitar. She had a good voice, and her lyrics were what Maggie recognized as woman-oriented. She drank, laughed, and talked. She found herself having a really good time. Emily was especially attentive, and Maggie liked her more with every passing moment. When Emily asked Maggie to go outside with her to see her “new favorite place,” Maggie instantly agreed.
They sneaked out the back door with two fresh beers. Emily led her down the street to a semi deserted lot. At the back of the tumbled landscape was a partially-demolished brick building. There were only three walls and no roof. The moonlight shone on the dusty concrete floor. They sat in an empty window frame and looked out to the illuminated valley.
“Wow,” was all Maggie could muster. It was an absolutely breathtaking view.
“Cool, isn’t it? I knew you’d like it,” Emily said.
“I do.”
“Maggie, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure,” Maggie said, gazing out into the night.
“Are you and Karen lovers? I didn’t think you were, but…”
Saxon Bennett - The Wish List Page 6
