“How many?”
“Four hundred and fifty,” Leslie said dryly.
“Really?”
Leslie rolled her eyes. “No, not really. I have no idea.”
Suddenly, Alice was like a scientist witnessing a successful experiment. “Do you know what all this sounds like?”
“What?”
“Betty Friedan’s ‘The Problem that has No Name’ essay.”
“The what?”
Alice scoffed. “Don’t you listen at our crochet meetings? Dolores was talking about it. It’s at the beginning of The Feminine Mystique. I let you borrow that book months ago. Haven’t you read it?”
“I haven’t had time,” Leslie said sheepishly.
“Haven’t had time? You don’t work.”
“Just because I don’t work doesn’t mean I have time to lounge around reading books all day.”
“That’s exactly why you should read it. It’s an essay that explains why so many women in the 1950s were depressed and popping Valium like candy from a Pez dispenser. Being a housewife is boring.”
Leslie looked offended. “I know it’s not the most glamorous life, but it’s not boring. It has its moments.”
“Of course it does,” Alice said, trying to be sensitive. “I didn’t mean to—well, come on, Leslie, be honest. When was the last time something provocative went down at the orthodontist?”
“Last Wednesday. I had the sheer pleasure of witnessing Dr. Santello lace into Billy for not wearing his elastics. I kept on telling him, but he’d just ‘yeah, ma’ me to death.”
Alice stared at her for a moment. “How are you not a Quaalude addict?”
Leslie laughed. “I miss hearing your one-liners every day.” Suddenly, the glint in her eyes faded. “I just don’t smile as much now.”
Alice stirred her soup, letting pieces of barley plop into the broth. “When you worked here, I would actually have fun at work. Now I’m back to the old grind of mindless office procedures and avoiding the people I dislike.”
Leslie smirked, apparently familiar with that list. “I love having lunch with my kids, but they’re not really big on discussing current events. I miss that, too.”
“Do you know what I miss?”
Leslie shook her head.
“You.”
Leslie poked at the pumpernickel bread on her sandwich. “I can’t stand the idea that our next crochet club isn’t for another two weeks.”
“God, me, too,” Alice said. “Hey, do you want to go shopping or something this week? I mean if you can get a sitter.”
“A sitter’s never a problem. My parents love having the kids on a Friday night. Bradlee’s is having a big linen sale this week, and if you want, we can try that new Italian place in the Annex first.”
“Sounds mint.” Alice delighted in Leslie’s enthusiasm. “We should get going. Some of us are still on the clock.”
“Don’t rub it in,” Leslie said as she stepped down off the stool.
“Where are you off to now?”
“I have to pick up Billy at basketball camp, and then I’m going home, making a nice pitcher of iced tea, and sitting outside on my chaise lounge with The Feminine Mystique.”
“You keep talking like that, and I’m not going to feel sorry for you anymore.”
“Oh, really?” Leslie looped her arm through Alice’s as they crossed the street. “I’ll call you up and let you listen the next time Billy and Rebecca are having a battle royal over the television. You’ll feel plenty sorry for me then.”
“Something tells me they could burn your house down, and you’d still worship the flowers they trample on.”
“You know me too well, Alice,” she said. “I’ll come up with you, so I can use the ladies’ room.”
In the restroom, Alice loitered at the sink rinsing her soapy hands until Leslie came out of the stall. Their eyes connected in the mirror’s reflection. The air grew thick with awkwardness as water trickled over their hands. Leslie was the first to look away, drying her hands on the towel hanging from a dispenser.
“I thought of you all weekend,” Alice said quietly.
Leslie sighed.
“I’m sorry, Leslie. I shouldn’t have said that.”
All through lunch, Alice had heaved thoughts of Leslie’s tender lips from her mind, shaming herself unmercifully for allowing them to creep in. Although their night had been the most exquisite experience she’d ever had, it had come as a frightening surprise.
“You don’t have to apologize,” Leslie said. “Why do you think I’m here?”
They leaned toward each other and kissed, vigilant to keep their bodies from touching.
“Why can’t I stop thinking of you?” Leslie whispered, resting her forehead against Alice’s. “It’s driving me crazy.”
“I thought it was just me,” Alice said.
Leslie shook her head. As they stared at each other, the apprehension in Leslie’s eyes wrenched Alice’s heart. She’d never intended to cause her any distress with her first misstep. But how were they to know any of this would or could ever happen?
“Do you want me to leave you alone?” Alice said, bracing for the answer.
Leslie blotted the tears under her eyes with the sides of her index fingers. “No, I don’t want you to. That’s the problem.”
Alice bit her lip so Leslie wouldn’t see her coming apart. “Me either.”
“Your friendship means so much to me, Alice. Let’s not ruin it.”
“Yours does, too, but I don’t know how to be just your friend since…”
“Sure, it makes things a little awkward,” Leslie said. “But we can get past it. Everyone makes mistakes.”
Before Alice could respond, they jumped apart when Julie stormed into the bathroom.
“Alice, Mr. Engle wants to know where you are. Your lunch hour ended fifteen minutes ago.”
Alice glanced at Leslie. “It’s like I’m still married to Tony.” She then turned to Julie, sweetly. “Tell him I’m coming back right now.”
After Julie left, they traded smiles and a smoldering kiss before emerging from the sanctuary of the ladies’ room.
*
Alice sprang up in Mary Ellen’s lounge chair, almost as if from a bad dream. The feeling she’d had with Leslie earlier today was identical to those days right before she’d fallen helplessly in love with her. She’d better go out to dinner with her sister and brother-in-law before she slid so deep into thoughts of Leslie, she’d never be able to climb out.
Chapter Ten
After dinner in Branford center, Alice walked with her sister and brother-in-law down Main Street to Common Grounds, a regular stop for Dave and Mary Ellen whenever they ate in town. Dave had brought two cappuccinos to Alice and Mary Ellen, seated on a worn leather loveseat in the corner, and announced he was going to have his coffee with some of the regulars gathered at a large table in the center of the coffeehouse. His wife did not object.
“All right, now that he’s over there, start explaining,” Mary Ellen said, licking foam off her lip.
Alice was taken aback by her directness and played it cagey. “Explaining what?”
“You spent the day with Leslie, and then you came home sad and mopey. What’s the matter? Did she take a turn for the worse? Does she have a second husband you didn’t know about?”
“Second husband?” She glared at Mary Ellen incredulously. “No, she’s fine. She had some nerve damage on her left side, but she’s definitely improving. They have a terrific therapy staff where she is.”
“Then why are you in a mood?”
Alice sipped her cappuccino and took a moment to appreciate the eclectic artwork and murals on the walls. “I don’t know if I should keep going there every day.”
“You’re not obligated to. You said she’s getting better, and she has family, which by the way, so do you.”
“It’s not that I feel obligated. The problem is I want to.”
“Christ, are you falling for her
again?”
Alice smiled at her sister’s dramatic ways and then said softly, “I don’t think I ever stopped loving her.”
“How could that be? You and Maureen were a great couple.”
“Maureen was an exceptional human being. She was easy to love.”
“But Leslie was the love of your life?”
It pained Alice to hear Mary Ellen say that and know it was true. She loved and respected Maureen so much, but as happy as they were, she’d never quite felt with Maureen that special something Leslie had stirred in her—and was stirring again.
“Am I a horrible person if I admit that?” Alice said.
“No,” Mary Ellen said. “If things were different back in the seventies you probably would’ve ended up with Leslie. But that doesn’t mean what you had with Maureen was anything less than genuine. We love different people differently.”
Alice took a moment to absorb her sister’s wisdom. “How are you so wise to the nuances of romance? You’ve been with Dave since high school.”
“Haven’t you ever watched Super Soul Sunday on the Oprah Winfrey Network?”
“Uh, no,” Alice said. “I’m sorry to say I’ve missed that one.”
“So how do you think Leslie feels?”
“Well, I thought she might have been flirting a little, but in a convalescent home, how do you tell the difference between light flirting and heavy gratitude?”
Mary Ellen chortled into her cappuccino foam.
“I don’t know,” Alice went on in a more serious tone. “It’s such a strange context to be talking about second chances. It’s been over twenty-five years since we’ve even seen each other. We’re so old, she’s not well…”
“Alice, age has nothing to do with love. I would think you know that. You’re seventy-one, not a hundred and seventy. You’re vibrant, active, and still look amazing. If you’re trying to talk yourself out of having feelings for her, you’ll have to come up with a more persuasive argument.”
“Perhaps I’m making too much of the situation. I live in Boston, after all. I’m just here for a visit. If my feelings become overwhelming, I could just hop in my car and drive away.”
“Right,” Mary Ellen said. “Far, far away from your problems just like you did thirty years ago.”
“I wasn’t running away from my problems. I got a better job.”
“You became an insurance actuary. You could’ve stayed in Hartford. You didn’t have to move two and half hours away from everyone.”
“We’re not going to get into how I wasn’t there for Mom again, are we? I offered to move her in with Maureen and me when she couldn’t live on her own anymore.”
“You knew damn well she wouldn’t have gone up there.”
“For God’s sake, she died twenty years ago. When will this argument be over?”
“It’s not even about Mom, Alice. Don’t you get it? You didn’t just run away from Leslie. You ran away from me.”
“It was a decision I needed to make. I never stopped being your sister, and I never will.”
“I miss how you used to share things with me. After you met Leslie, everything changed.”
“Because I did. I didn’t know I was a lesbian until I met Leslie.”
“That’s a whole chunk of your life I know nothing about. I wish you’d tell me something.”
Alice took another sip of her cappuccino. “All right, I’ll tell you something. How about a time when coffee landed Leslie and me in trouble?”
Mary Ellen smiled with delight. “Sounds delicious.”
August 1977
Alice picked up Leslie that Friday night with the noblest of intentions. As originally planned, they’d split an antipasto salad and an eggplant-parmesan sub at a new Italian restaurant in the Annex section of New Haven, trading details of work and home life with kids. But noble intentions were no match for what simmered wordlessly between them. For her part, Alice had investigated the contents of the antipasto until her eyes ached from concentration. The pickled carrots and cauliflower, marinated mushrooms, roasted red peppers, Genoa salami, imported ham, and cubes of table cheese kept her in check. If she looked up for too long, she’d fix her eyes on Leslie and so would end the casual chitchat between friends she was making a heroic effort to maintain.
“So Rebecca and I had a long conversation today about playing with her brother’s racetrack and model airplanes,” Leslie said as she pulled a strand of mozzarella from her half of the eggplant sub.
“Why? Did she break something,” Alice asked, still not looking up.
“No, but she’s got her own toys. Barbie airplane, Barbie camper, Barbie beauty shop—you name it, Barbie does it. I think Mattel will go out of business once she grows out of them.”
Alice, still plucking various items from the antipasto with her fork: “Maybe she’s bored with Barbie. A racetrack sounds like a lot of fun.”
Leslie paused, skewering Alice with her glare. “Haven’t you eaten anything today?”
Alice finally came up for air. “I’m sorry. Here, have some more.” She pushed the platter toward Leslie.
“No, I’m getting full,” Leslie said, peering inside her sub. “I started taking these diet pills this week, and they really work.”
“What do you need diet pills for? You’ve got an amazing figure.” Alice hadn’t meant to make her blush, but if anyone knew the truth about Leslie’s figure…
“I don’t know. I’m pretty sure I’ve put on weight. Some of my slacks are uncomfortable now.” She glanced around the restaurant as if the solution to life’s most puzzling riddle was hidden somewhere behind the grimy wall paneling. “I don’t know. I just feel like I need to do something.”
They were roaming away from casual-friend chitchat.
“Is everything okay?”
Leslie offered the smile Alice had figured out was Leslie’s Carol Brady smile of the mom whose problems always resolved themselves after the last commercial break.
“Are you sure?” Alice said.
She nodded.
“You ready to blow this taco stand?”
“Yes. I think some shopping is in order after a meal like this.” Leslie counted out her half of the check and rose from the booth.
“You hardly ate anything.”
“I’m fine, Alice. It just means more room for dessert.” Leslie’s smile was more reassuring, but Alice still wasn’t convinced.
As appetizing as shopping sounded, they never quite made it to the linen sale at Bradlees. After leaving the restaurant, and without saying a word, Alice had steered her car toward the onramp of Interstate 95, going in the opposite direction.
“Um, Bradlees is back that way,” Leslie said, poking her thumb over her shoulder.
“I like the one near me in West Haven better. Then we can stop at my house for coffee or something if you want. I picked up a nice Danish ring at the bakery after work today.” Alice felt Leslie’s eyes studying her profile as she drove over the Q Bridge.
“Okay.” Leslie rested her hands in her lap.
They drove in thorny silence for the rest of the way until they reached the exit in West Haven.
“I have an idea,” Leslie said. “Why don’t we have coffee first?”
“That’s a great idea.” Alice clasped the steering wheel tighter. Her real appetite was finally going to be satisfied.
*
As soon as Alice closed the door behind them, they thundered down the hardwood hallway like a freight train, crashing into walls, knocking family photos to the floor. Through deep, steamy kisses, they peeled off articles of each other’s clothing as they headed to Alice’s bedroom.
When they slid into Alice’s cool sheets, Leslie’s body molded to the contour of Alice’s. She flung her arms around Leslie, and her palms soaked in the supple softness of her upper back. They gazed at each other between slow, sensual kisses, eyes conveying what couldn’t be expressed in words. But what were they expressing? What Alice was feeling defied explanation. Did t
his prove beyond a doubt she was a lesbian? She’d loved and been loved before by two caring, passionate men, but it had never felt like this—so electric, so consuming, so complete.
After nearly two hours of making love, they lay quietly face to face, heads sharing the same pillow, legs and arms entangled in sheets torn out from beneath the mattress.
“I can’t believe the way you make me feel,” Leslie whispered.
Alice melted in the dreamy look in Leslie’s eyes. “I can’t believe any of this.”
“It scares me, Alice.”
“No kidding. Feel my heart.” She placed Leslie’s hand on her bare chest.
“Mine beats like that, too.”
“Really?” Alice said. “When?”
“Whenever I’m waiting for your car to pull in my driveway or I dial your phone number and count the rings until you answer or I just happen to catch you looking at me the way you do.”
Alice slid out from under Leslie’s arm and propped herself up on her elbows. “Leslie, I know you don’t want me to say this, but I have to, just this once. I’m in love with you—madly, passionately in love with you.”
“I know the feeling, but I don’t understand it.” Leslie sprang upright, tugging the sheet up to her neck. “I’ve never felt anything like this before. I’ve been with my husband for fourteen years, since the summer after I graduated high school. He’s my first love. How is it that I’ve never felt this way with him?”
Alice popped up, too. “How the hell should I know? Tony and I had our problems, but I loved him. I didn’t want to split up.” Alice scratched at the side of her head through her messy hair. “At least I don’t think I wanted to. I mean, I was pretty devastated going through it. But then, I don’t know, I also felt this strange sense of relief.”
“Maybe this really isn’t what we think it is,” Leslie suggested. “Maybe we were so upset about not working together anymore, we just got all mixed up.”
The Second Wave Page 11
