Painted Moon

by Karin Kallmaker

  Leah gazed at Constance, asked in a low voice, "Are you safe? I mean ... we didn't... I should have asked about—"

  "I had a scare about six years ago and since then I've been careful. I know I'm okay and I certainly knew you hadn't been active — and neither of us do drugs, let alone share needles — so I didn't use anything. You don't have to worry about it." She crossed her legs and stared at the table. "It won't work, will it? Like I said, I keep forgetting you're you. All I see are your hands — you have fabulous hands, darling — and well," she went on, sounding philosophical, "I have a very pleasant memory. I hope you do, too."

  Leah managed a slight smile. "Yeah, I certainly do. I don't regret it."

  "Well, that's something." Constance blinked rapidly for a moment. "I have to run—there's a gala tonight. Oh, would you like to go the Women's Foundation benefit with me? I already have the tickets and don't feel like asking anyone else. Next Friday. Don't tell me you're booked. Wear that purple jacket. Darling..." Constance reached over to pat her hand. "I still very much want to be your friend. I hope it's not spoiled."

  "No, it's not spoiled," Leah said sincerely. "I'm not sorry it happened, if you're not. And yes, I'll be there Friday."

  She waved at the T-bird as Constance pulled away. She was glad that she and Constance were back on their old footing. All this time she thought Constance was looking for a settled life — what an ego you have, she chided herself. She needed friends more than lovers and between Constance and Maureen she'd be busy. Busy enough to not miss Sharla as much as she might have. Besides, there was also her work to absorb her.

  Back in the studio, she uncovered the one canvas she wouldn't show to Constance and set it on the easel. The blue and silver of Jackie saying yes.

  "I can't believe I fell on my feet. I like everyone I've worked with and they expect me to work with clients and show initiative. They ask my opinion and listen to me. And they don't say I'm dumb when I say something really obvious. And Diane, my boss, seems to enjoy explaining things. She loves questions. And the projects are interesting. It's all working out." Jackie realized she had been babbling, but her mother didn't look bothered by it.

  She had arrived in Dallas late the previous night to find a room waiting for her and a bouquet of wildflowers with a note saying, "Room service for breakfast tomorrow so we can talk! Ring me around 8:30. — XXOOXX Mom." It had been a splendid idea. Her mother's first demand had been to hear all about Jackie's new job.

  Jellica Frakes looked up from buttering her English muffin. "I'm so glad they appreciate your worth. And that you're learning. That other place didn't seem to want to teach you anything but how to run their computer. Drink your milk," she added, making one of her lightning changes from mentor to mother. Jackie grinned and took a big swallow.

  "How does Parker feel about the big change in your life?"

  Jackie wiped away her milk moustache. "He didn't really say. It sort of got lost in the shuffle of our breaking up."

  "Jackson!" Her mother put down the muffin. "Why didn't you call me? Oh dear, I put my foot in it, didn't I? When did this happen?"

  'I was wondering how to bring it up, so I'm glad you asked. We broke up before Christmas. I had made up my mind and he was also trying to tell me he met someone else. It was mostly agreeable."

  Her mother's hazel eyes darkened, as though the sun had gone behind clouds. "I'm so sorry. You gave up so much."

  Jackie gave her mother a wry look. "Well, if you promise not to let it go to your head, I'll tell you that you were right about him, and moving and going to L&B to work."

  Her mother's steady gaze was tinged with sadness. "I didn't want to be right, you know."

  "I know. But really, I feel great. I haven't felt this good since graduate school."

  "There's something you haven't told me, though. I sense a secret of some sort." She took a bite out of her muffin and studied Jackie.

  Jackie's jaw dropped. "You are a mind reader. It's not fair."

  "I can't read all minds, just yours. And your father's."

  "I knew it. Yes, there's something else."

  Jackie didn't know how to start and into the long pause, Jellica said, "You can tell me anything, you know."

  "Well, remember Thanksgiving? I told you I spent the weekend mostly with Lee Beck?"

  Her mother nodded and her face stilled almost as though she could sense what was coming.

  "Something happened." Jackie closed her eyes for a moment. "Not much of something happened, but enough. Enough for me to figure out that I'd rather be with women." She looked into her mother's perfectly still face and held her breath.

  "Are you sure, cherie" Jackie could feel the intensity of her mother's stare. "Do you feel like you have a choice?"

  Jackie bit her lower lip, then sighed. "Oh, I don't know. Of course I have a choice. Of course I can choose not to act on my urges. But I have no control over the urges themselves. The way I feel when I think about her. I didn't choose to want a woman like I do." She pressed her palms to her eyes for a moment, then looked back at her mother. "I didn't choose this. But I can choose how to respond to it."

  "And — how will you?"

  "I... I want to taste the forbidden fruit." She smiled ruefully, realizing she sounded Victorian. "I think I'll probably make it a steady diet."

  Her mother sighed somewhat sadly. "And I take it you're pretty sure it won't give you hives?" A smile lurked at the edge of her mouth.

  Jackie started to respond, caught her breath, found her cheeks growing warm at the mere memory.

  Her mother said, "Don't tell me, it's written all over you. It was fabulous."

  "I think it would be if I actually did anything." Jackie laughed wryly. "If not Leah, then somebody else — a woman. That's the point. That women will be in my life from now on. I told you I went out for Christmas dinner and I let you think it was with Parker, I'm sorry about that. I didn't mean to lie. I just wanted to see you face-to-face."

  "I understand, don't worry about it."

  "I did go out. To a dinner party for lesbians. We had a lot of fun and I made some friends."

  "And what about Lee Beck?"

  "I'll probably never see her again," Jackie said. "I was scared. And she's still grieving for her lover."

  Her mother nodded. "Oh, that's right. I'd forgotten she'd lost her girlfriend, well — more than a friend, obviously. Lover, agent, business manager. She never made an issue of her sexuality. Most people forget, I think."

  "So anyway, she said I wasn't ready."

  "Were you?"

  Jackie gave her mother a sheepish look. "Mom, I was ready. I'm still ready. I've never been so ready."

  Her mother smiled fondly. The sun came out in her eyes again. "Darling, I won't lie and say this isn't a shock. It is. Your father will have to get used to the idea, but of course, there's no question—I love you, your father loves you. And I'm glad to see you alive and awake and aware of what you're choosing. Even if you never see her again, you've still woken up. I knew something was missing for you, dear." Jellica's voice broke. "I didn't know how to help you find it. And I so much wanted you to find it."

  "Damn," Jackie said. "I'm going to cry." She blotted her eyes with the table napkin.

  Her mother cleared her throat and said, "I remember when I fell in love for the first time, I felt just like you do. I didn't have a choice about how I felt. I loved who I loved. And it was the most torrid, shameless affair I'd ever had."

  "What happened?" Jackie dabbed one last time and concentrated on her mother.

  Her mother grinned and leaned forward confidentially. "Well, my friends told me he'd be the ruin of me, he'd squash every artistic impulse I ever had and lead me into a life of pure boredom. And his friends were telling him I'd be the ruin of him, get him labeled a radical, ruin his chances for promotion." She shook her head sadly. "In the end..."

  "What? What happened?" Jackie heard the scoop on this part of her mother's life.

  "Well. What could I
do? Like you said, I might not have chosen to feel like I did, but whether I acted on those feelings was really up to me. So I married him.

  Jackie flopped back in her chair. "You're talking about Daddy," she said, wrinkling up her nose. "No fair. Everyone knows you have the perfect marriage."

  "It would be a mistake for you to assume it has always been perfect. Or that perfect is easy. It took work, believe me. My work is fortunately portable, so I could go with him wherever he went." She leaned forward to pat Jackie's hand. "But what a remarkable work of art we produced."

  Jackie blushed and tears swam in her eyes again. "Thanks."

  "I hope you find happiness, dear. It's always been my wish for you." She leaned back and waved one hand airily. "And Parker was not going to make you happy." Not for the first time Jackie wished for her mother's gift of conveying worlds of meaning with a casual gesture.

  After that, her mother seemed content to munch on her breakfast and talk about life in Lisbon. Jackie finished her muffin and had some strawberries.

  "Well," her mother said briskly, as soon as the last of the berries had been eaten. "What are you going to do with yourself while I spend the day being dragged from gallery to gallery and feted at every turn?"

  "I don't know. I wish I could drive out into the country somewhere. Just to see what it feels like. The sky is so big. And I didn't expect so many trees."

  "Rent a car for the weekend, my treat. I know you told me not to feel bad about Christmas but I do. Find us someplace fun to go to tomorrow since all the festivities will be over. I'd love to hear some live jazz, I miss it. When do you have to fly out?"

  "Not till Monday evening. Angela said it was okay for me to take Monday off even though I've only been there a few weeks. She's a veritable lion, but we get along okay."

  "Maybe I can meet her when I come out there in February."

  "You're coming to San Francisco?" Jackie sat up with pleasure.

  "Didn't I say — oh no, of course. I hadn't even gotten around to telling you. The Weavers is debuting at the Museum of Modern Art and they want me to do a benefit gala thing. I said yes primarily because I could spend some time with you. I'll plan on staying at least a week."

  "My studio's really tiny, but I make great coffee."

  "Nonsense, dear, I'll stay in a hotel. You can stay with me if you want and pretend you're on holiday. I wasn't looking forward to seeing Parker, so that's just as well." Her mother stopped, then blurted out, "I'm so glad you're not with him anymore."

  "I'm glad, too," Jackie said with a smile.

  "Anyway," Jellica continued in her brisk tone, "if you are with — if there's someone you're dating, I shall want to meet her, you know. That will never change."

  "I've been going out with someone, but we're just friends. She's showing me the ropes, so to speak." Her mother laughed. "Oh, I'm so pleased you're coming to visit. It'll be great."

  "Now go away, dear, and let me put on my face. Enjoy your day and I'll see you around seven before the banquet, okay?"

  "Okay. And you don't need a different face." She gazed fondly at the hazel eyes and salt-and-pepper hair. 'I can only hope to be as beautiful as you are when I'm fifty-three."

  "Out," her mother ordered.

  10

  Jackie was able to rent a car through the concierge who also gave her maps. Clad in black leggings, Reeboks and a bulky, warm sweater, she felt ready to explore.

  She picked up the car and was pleased to find it was a little sports coupe. The highways around Dallas looked straight and flat on the map. She hadn't driven really fast since the last time she'd been in Germany. The clerk at the rental agency said the Texas highway patrol tended not to be much interested in anything under seventy-five—unlike California, where paranoia set in at sixty. She could whisk some cobwebs out of her mind and really get out into the country. Which direction out of Dallas? West toward Lubbock? Country-western songs began to play in her head. North toward Oklahoma City?

  A town called Norman caught her eye. Norman, Oklahoma. Now where had she heard of that before? She concentrated for a moment and Leah's voice came back to her. Sharlotte Kinsey from Norman, Oklahoma. Can you imagine being from a place so off the beaten track that the main sight for miles is an oil field?

  Unwilling to name what motivated her, Jackie set off for Norman, Oklahoma, her camera and map handy. She would spend most of the day driving there and back, but she loved exploring by car. Wildflowers. How people built their homes in different terrains. It would be a nice break.

  The land was flat and soaked with rain, with no crops to break the unending stretch of dark orange clay. Gray clouds stretched overhead into the dim, charcoal horizon, leaving Jackie feeling very small and wondering about the native peoples who had roamed under the vast sky. How easy it would be think this was the entire world.

  She eased herself into a caravan of cars and trucks all doing about eighty miles per hour. Sedate, by German standards, but it was exhilarating. The music was mostly country, but she didn't mind. She sang when she knew the words and drank in the red and gray countryside. She would build houses low to the ground with soft, rounded lines to merge into the hard horizon.

  It was about three hours later when she stopped at a diner on the main drag into Norman. The town was not as small as she had thought it would be, but perhaps it had grown up since Sharla had lived here. She found herself asking the waitress about cemeteries. There were two, she discovered, and so she set off again.

  The first cemetery looked disused and overgrown with no signs of any recent activity. She walked around a little and found deaths recorded only as recently as the 1930s. An icy wind cut quickly into her sweater and she gladly went back to the car.

  The second cemetery was obviously in use. The size of it intimidated her. There was a funeral under way off to the right, so she parked some distance away and walked in that general direction in the hope that it was a more recently used part of the grounds. Some landscaping had created small rises and there were middle-aged oak trees here and there, which cut down the wind.

  She wandered for a while, finding graves from the 1980s, but none more recent. The funeral was ending and people were leaving. She waited until only the funeral home attendants were left and then asked for their help.

  The men, in their stiff black suits, looked her up and down. Jackie guessed she looked a little odd for a cemetery. Well, she probably looked a little odd for Oklahoma. She bent the truth and said she was looking for a friend from church camp. The men directed her to a general area where her school friend might be buried.

  The graves along the path they'd directed her to were of the right time period. Beloved daughter.

  Beloved wife. Beloved father. James, gone too soon. Carolyn, our loving sister.

  Abruptly she realized she was looking at the right name.

  Sharlotte Jean Kinsey. A simple, large cross in relief. At the bottom: God be merciful to me a sinner.

  She looked at it for a few minutes, her fists clenching and unclenching. She was hot all over with rage — a deep burning anger the likes of which she'd never felt before.

  To sleep here forever with such words over her — Jackie was at a loss. It was a shock to see the condemnation etched in stone. For her whole life she had been nothing but loved by her parents. She didn't have any enemies. Another shock hit her — these people would think the same of her, and they didn't even know her. She swallowed around the knot in her throat. No one had ever hated her before.

  She thought about what her mother had said about making choices. So. She was choosing love and choosing to be hated, too.

  She walked back to the cemetery entrance and around the corner to the florist that made its trade from mourners. She couldn't take a picture of the marker without something that showed that Sharla had been loved, deeply and truly loved.

  Roses? No. Carnations? No. Gladioli—that was better. Scarlet glads, and some royal purple irises. Much, much better, she thought. She bought an arm
ful of the most vivid blooms and a tall vase, refused the complimentary cross to hang from the bouquet, then carried them back to the cemetery.

  The brilliant colors hid most of the saying and the cross. Would that she had the power to obliterate the cruel words and add Beloved Wife of Leah to the stone. As Leah had said, where was their charity? How could love ever be wrong? Especially love as true as Sharla and Leah's had been.

  She took a half-dozen photographs and then stood for a moment, wondering if she had anything she wanted to say. She suddenly felt foolish. She didn't believe Sharla was really there anymore. She'd never decided what she believed about an after-life, but her father had taught her to be open to all cultures and ideas. She sighed and looked up at the sky and thought that wherever Sharla was it had to be closer to Leah than this place.

  She shook her head at herself, took one last picture, pinched a petal of each flower for her pockets and then went back to the car. On the drive back she composed and recomposed the note to Leah to include with the pictures. She would include the flower petals, so Leah could see the colors. She hadn't made this trip to get a response from Leah, but she hoped that Leah would respond and that she would see her again.

  When she got to the hotel she surprised her mother with a long, heartfelt hug and tickets to a highly recommended live jazz club.

  "So what did you want to show us, Lee?" Valentina took another bite of her amaretto cheesecake and made delicate smacking sounds as though she were tasting wine. "Do you think this could use a little less amaretto?"

  "Dearest, it's fine," Maureen said. "I don't see how a quarter teaspoon more or less of something would make a difference."

  Valentina looked at her mate disdainfully. "You have no palate to speak of."

  "I like the way you taste," Maureen said.

  "Guys!" Leah looked at both her friends. "Let's not talk about sex."

  Valentina pointed her fork at Leah. "Celibacy's a drag, isn't it? Believe me, I knew all about it until this one came along." She waved her fork at Maureen.