“Bean curd.”
“What the hell is bean curd?”
“The curd of the bean,” Traci answered matter-of-factly.
“Traci, I’m from Chicago, city of broad shoulders, hog butcher to the world. Do you expect me to survive on bean burgers?”
Traci smiled. “Your purpose is not to survive, remember?”
“That’s right, I forgot.” Artemis suddenly flopped down and walked over toward Traci. Traci reached out and petted her with her long fingers.
“So, Artemis, you finally decided to give me the time of day. I guess you remembered who feeds you when Jawea’s gone.”
“I must say you’ve certainly given me some food for thought.”
Traci stood up, scooping Artemis into her arms. “Stevie, the chances of us meeting were one in a million. And therefore; we crossed paths for a reason. Who knows, I may be your spiritual guide.”
“Really?” I asked, tempted to laugh in Traci’s face.
Traci nodded as Artemis jumped out of her arms and headed for the door.
“Yeah, only time will tell,” Traci answered mysteriously. “Like I said before, you’d be a fool to go back to Chicago tomorrow.”
I remembered my cramped, non-air-conditioned bedroom in ninety-degree heat. Summer in San Francisco was awfully tempting. And I did want to find myself. I was twenty-one years old. If not now, when? It was exciting to think that I could turn my world upside down, just like that. But I knew that I wouldn’t actually follow through with it in a million years. Sure, it would make sense to sleep here tonight in Kate’s room, and yeah, I’d have brunch in the Castro in the morning. But my butt would be getting on that plane tomorrow as scheduled and returning to Chicago. Next week I might see snatches of the Gay Pride parade on the TV news or read about it later in the newspaper. But that would be the end of it. Soon I’d find a job in the media and get an apartment in Hyde Park and date men and learn to count my blessings.
“Traci, I’ll stay here just for the night and go to brunch with you in the Castro tomorrow. I’ll call the hotel and leave a message for my friends.”
Traci patted my shoulder when I hung up the phone. “Come on, let’s get us some shut-eye.”
Get us some shut-eye. I hoped Traci didn’t think that we were shutting our eyes together in the same bed or even in the same room, for that matter. She’d said I could sleep in Kate’s room, hadn’t she?
I hoped Traci wouldn’t come into Kate’s room in the night and try to seduce me. I wondered if I should sleep with one eye open.
I bit my bottom lip. “Traci, you’re not going to try anything tonight, are you?”
Traci rolled her eyes. “Try anything? Stevie, what do you take me for?”
I felt embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you.”
“Do you think that I can only deal on one level?” Traci asked, raising her arms. “Is that what you think?”
“To tell you the truth, I don’t know what to think.”
“Well, I can operate on many levels. I can tune into your energy. I don’t just want a piece of ass.”
It wasn’t like Traci had met me in the church choir. It wouldn’t be so shocking if all she wanted was sex, now, would it? “Well, what do you want?”
“I want to participate in your personal growth. I want to be a catalyst for change. That’s what I want.”
I couldn’t help but be impressed. If a man were saying this stuff, he would probably be full of shit. No “probably” to it; he would be full of shit. But it sounded beautiful coming from a woman. I had to admit that I was attracted to Traci’s mystical style.
“I’ve never met anyone who wanted to do all that before.”
Traci smiled and reached her hands out and grasped my cold fingers. Our faces moved closer to each other as if by osmosis. My knees buckled as I sank my mouth into Traci’s soft lips. I felt my heart swell; I was scared by the intensity.
“That was nice,” Traci breathed after our lips parted.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Well, I’d better turn in now,” I said, afraid that Traci might get ideas. The kiss was nice, but it was enough for one night.
“I’ll get you some sheets for the bed.”
I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Stevie, just wait until you see how the morning light shines on the stained glass hanging in Kate’s window.”
5
I was still half-asleep when I felt something heavy against my thigh. I stiffened. Traci had promised that she wouldn’t try anything.
I opened my eyes and stared into the face of Artemis, sitting on top of me.
“How did you get in here?” I yawned.
I sat up on Kate’s firm mattress and opened my arms to the cat. I could hear loud music with a strong beat. I glanced around the room in the sunlight. The floor was covered with a straw mat. There were a lot of books, big pillows on the floor, candles, and a poster of a yogi with his legs crossed, wearing swimming trunks. I got a good laugh out of the poster of Prime Minister Indira Gandhi that asked, “But Can She Type?”
I was sitting up in the bed petting Artemis when Traci stuck her fuzzy head in the door. “You up?”
I nodded, pulling down on the big T-shirt she’d given me to sleep in.
Traci walked in the room wearing a faded blue terry cloth bathrobe. I’d always been a sucker for terry cloth.
“You could wake the dead with that loud music,” I said smiling.
“Don’t you like reggae music, mon?” Traci asked, dancing and popping her fingers.
“I s’pose, but I’m not that familiar with it.”
“That’s Jimmy Cliff, mon. Did you catch the flick The Harder They Come? Well, this is the sound track.”
I shook my head. “I’ve been in the boonies for the last four years. We had to drive to Peoria just to see The Exorcist.”
“Well, you’ll just have to make up for lost time.”
“Can I take a shower first?”
“Sure, I’ll get you a towel.”
“Thanks, mon.”
Traci had been right, I thought, staring at the stained glass image of a lotus with the sun shining through it. It gave me a warm feeling. And so did she. I decided to stay the week.
The airlines had let me change my flight, and Today and Sharlinda had bought my story, lock, stock, and barrel about staying an extra week to be with Mr. Goodbar. It had been easy getting my brother Kevin to tell my parents that I was extending my vacation to check out graduate schools. All he was interested in was an autographed Oakland A’s baseball cap for his eighteenth birthday.
The Castro had really been a trip. I’d never seen so many good-looking men who didn’t want women before. Traci informed me that the slim, alligator-shirt and jean-clad replicas were called Castro Street clones. A T-shirt in a store window had said it best: “San Francisco, my favorite city, where the women are strong and the men are pretty.”
After a brunch of quiche and fruit in the Castro, Traci dropped me off near the hotel. She would return in an hour, after my homies were gone.
Today and Sharlinda sat on the beds with their mouths open. I slumped down across from them in the boxy chair.
“Some people just have all the luck. I hate you.” Today pretended to be angry, but her striking features made her look pretty, no matter what. Today and Sharlinda said their dates had been all right, but neither of them had heard bells or anything.
“You two are going to freeze in those halter tops,” I teased.
“Yeah, this is no town for a tan.” Sharlinda sighed.
“Don’t worry, it’s burning up back home. In another week, Sharlinda, you’ll look like the rest of us,” Today said, laughing.
“Hey, maybe if we show some skin, one of the only two straight men in San Francisco will finally notice us,” Sharlinda joked.
I was about to share my impressions of the Castro with Sharlinda and Today, but then decided against it. No point in drawing unnecessary attention to the subject
of homosexuality.
“Come on you all, it’s not that bad,” I said, leaning back in the chair and resting my arms on the sides.
“It’s not that bad? Easy for you to say, you’ve got yourself a man.”
“Yeah,” Today agreed. “What’s his name, Stevie?”
“Mr. Goodbar, honey.”
“Stevie, what is the brotha’s name?” Sharlinda demanded.
“Traci,” I mumbled.
“And where is he, with his fine self?”
“He just dropped me off. He had to go pick his mother up from church,” I lied.
“Tracy?” Sharlinda asked, a little puzzled.
“Yeah, Spencer Tracy.”
“Spencer Tracy?” she repeated.
“Yeah, Spencer Tracy Washington,” I rattled off.
“Go ’head, check her out, Miss Thing knows all three of his names. Doesn’t sound like a one-night stand to me,” Today chuckled.
“Well, what happened with you and Mr. Spencer Tracy Washington Goodbar last night?” Sharlinda wanted to know.
“Did y’all go straight to the groove?” Today asked.
“No, we did not go straight to the groove. We’re getting to know each other gradually. And it’s nice.”
“Did you hear that, Today? A quality brotha.”
“By the way, has he got a brother?”
“Today, I told you we’re taking it slow. I haven’t examined his family tree.”
“Why not?” Sharlinda demanded, playfully throwing a pillow at me. “Honey, inquiring minds want to know.” She laughed as the pillow landed on my face.
“All I ask is that I be maid of honor at your wedding. And that you name your first daughter after me,” Today giggled.
“You better take your crazy butt on back to Maywood. Nobody’s thinking about marriage, yet.”
“You heard her say, ‘yet,’ Sharlinda.”
“Honey, Stevie has picked out everything, including the silverware by now.”
I threw the pillow and got Sharlinda upside her head, real good.
We’d checked out of our room. And it was time to say goodbye in the hotel lobby. Suddenly, I felt emotional.
“Stevie, what’s wrong? You’ve got tears in your eyes, girl,” Sharlinda said, puffing on a cigarette.
“It’s like the end of an era for the three of us.”
“Girl, why you say that? You’ll be back in Chicago in another week.”
“Yeah, but you’ll be out in the burbs, and Sharlinda might get that job in Milwaukee. It won’t be the same. Remember all the Thursday nights we ordered pizza together?”
“Yeah, and how we used to borrow each other’s clothes before Today gained weight from all that pizza?” Sharlinda laughed, exhaling.
“Stevie, you better hold me back before I hurt her.”
Today pretended to punch Sharlinda. It had been a cold thing to say, but it wasn’t like Today was fat. She could just stand to lose twenty pounds, that was all.
“Stevie smoked her first joint with me,” Sharlinda reminisced. “I taught her how to inhale.”
“You didn’t teach me nothing,” I lied. “You practically choked on it yourself. It was more like the blind leading the blind.”
“Well, I taught both of y’all the difference between cashmere and cotton, when it came to men,” Today sniffed.
“It will never be like old times again,” I swallowed.
“Y’all nursed me back from bronchitis.” Today sighed.
I saw the shuttle bus pull up outside the thick glass door. I pointed. “Well, I guess it’s time.”
“Don’t forget to call us when you get back to Chi-town and tell us all the intimate details.” Sharlinda winked and mashed her cigarette in an ashtray.
“Hey, how’s about a three-way hug?” Today suggested.
I was sort of glad when the hug was over and Today and Sharlinda had disappeared into the airline shuttle bus. It was a relief not to have to pretend anymore. I felt sad that I couldn’t be myself with somebody who’d taught me how to inhale my first joint, and someone I’d nursed back from bronchitis.
summer 1975
6
The next day Traci drove me across the Golden Gate Bridge to Mount Tamalpais in Marin County. We hiked for several hours. I complained every step of the way, but when we reached the top and looked out over the Bay Area, it took my breath away. Traci and I kissed and held hands. It was nice; I was really getting into her. I still wasn’t quite ready to take that big leap, so I planned on sleeping in Kate’s bed. But I’d be dreaming about being with Traci.
On Wednesday night, Traci made us a delicious catfish dinner. She and I sat in her room in front of a toasty fire. I couldn’t believe that it was cold enough to need heat in June. But it was cool and windy out there tonight.
Traci wondered aloud if the roommate interviewee they were expecting was a no show. Then Jawea stuck her head in the door and announced, “She’s here.”
Traci told me that I could learn a lot from Jawea because she was on a spiritual path. But I had my doubts about the slightly chubby white woman whom I imagined would be pretty if she ever combed her long, tangled hair, or ironed her rumpled clothes.
“I think this one is a separatist,” Jawea whispered.
“How could you tell already?” Traci asked, leaving the blazing fire.
“She asked me if Artemis was male or female. I told her female.”
“What did she say?”
“‘Good, because I want to live in a woman-only space. I don’t want to put my energy into anything male.’”
“Tell her you’re not sure about the turtle,” I joked as Traci and Jawea headed toward the kitchen.
I felt sorry for the two of them, and yet it must be interesting to interview prospective roomates; especially in San Francisco. Last night a woman had shown up with a black eye, explaining that she was into S-M. Another claimed to be an ex-Weatherwoman. She meant as in terrorist, as opposed to meteorologist. And a nice woman who did macramé said she had to consult her four children and three teenagers about the space. She nonchalantly explained that all seven beings lived inside of her body. So far, Jawea was leaning toward her, and Traci was partial to the masochist.
Traci reappeared in the room, rolling her eyes.
“I can’t understand why somebody named George with a beard and tattoos up and down her arms can be so down on men!”
“Yeah, she does have a funny way of showing it,” I agreed.
“George says she was a part of a collective in Mendocino County. They gave away their boy children. She’s a stone separatist.”
“Gave away their boys! That’s terrible!”
“Well, look at it this way,” Traci said, standing close to the crackling fire. “The kids were probably better off.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, watching the embers burn.
Traci sat down next to me. “I don’t know why Jawea is still farting around with her. Why not just come out and tell the woman this is not a separatist household.”
“Why didn’t you tell her?”
“I tried, but Jawea is going on about how she supports women-only space. Hey, I support women-only space too. But I want a male friend or relative to be able to visit. George said she didn’t want to deal with a man unless the house is on fire.”
“Wow, she actually said that?” I asked.
Traci nodded. “Maybe she’s been abused by men. In all fairness, women who hate men, hate them for a reason.”
I nodded as we heard the front door close. Traci called out to Jawea.
“We both concluded that this wasn’t the right space for her,” Jawea said, walking into the room.
“It took your pea brain all that time to figure that out?” Traci joked.
“Fuck you, Traci,” Jawea pouted.
“I hate looking for a roommate,” Traci groaned.
“Stevie, why don’t you be our roommate?” Jawea asked, arching her eyebrows. “Then I can get to be a minority.”
“Sacajawea, you’ve always been a minority in this household.”
“How so?”
“You’re the only white girl who thinks she’s an Indian.”
“Fuck you, again, Traci.”
“Jawea, you’re all talk and no action.”
“Traci, you’re bad, you’re sooo bad,” Jawea smiled, shaking her head.
I wasn’t crazy about them flirting in front of me, but I could tell there was nothing behind it.
“Stevie, you should really think seriously about being our roommate,” Jawea whined. “My consciousness-raising group would be so jealous if you provided me with yet another opportunity to struggle with my racism.”
Traci and I had just finished washing the dishes. We’d known each other a whole week now. I was still sleeping in Kate’s room. We’d only hugged and kissed, but Traci had made my love come down. I had a feeling that things would heat up soon. I was going back to Chicago on Monday night, so the next couple of days were critical.
“This is gonna be a big dance, huh?” I asked, washing out the wok. I had to remember to tell my family that I’d eaten vegetables stir-fried in a wok.
“Yeah,” Traci nodded. “Anybody who’s anybody will be there. Too bad Jawea’s down in Santa Cruz. Women of Power are playing; it’s gonna be hot.” Traci walked over to the refrigerator and took out a can of beer.
“Then we gotta jump clean,” I said.
“Huh?” Traci asked, popping open the can.
“That’s a term we used back at college. It just means you gotta look nice, you know, wear your best threads.”
“Hmm, you learn something every day.”
“I’m not sure what I should wear,” I said, drying the wok. “I have a skirt that I brought.”
“Hold it, you don’t need to get all fancy,” Traci said, sipping her beer.
“I didn’t bring anything fancy. It’s just a simple rayon skirt. Besides, I thought you said this is a big dance.”
“It is, that’s why it’s gonna be at the Women’s Skills Center. That’s a big place.”
“Well, what’s wrong with my wearing a skirt then?” I asked, heading toward Kate’s room.
Ain't Gonna Be the Same Fool Twice Page 8
