“You’re right, you’re always right.” She knew Sigrid would know she was teasing.
Clea said, “Hmph. Yeah. She’s always right unless I’m right.”
“And you’re always right too, darling,” Sigrid said smoothly and turned back to Hayley. “Anyway, we were talking about you and a roommate and not you and a new lover.”
“Right. I’m not getting entangled with anyone anytime soon. Let’s just see how it goes with a roommate. I’m actually pretty optimistic about it during the times when I’m not totally terrified.” Merle grinned at her two friends.
This was true. Once she’d made the decision, she was relieved and looked forward to having Hayley move in. The signs continued to be positive. Hayley had mailed a check in a couple days and advised her she would move in three weeks. It was all easy. So far. The true test would come when they were actually sharing the house.
*
When she received the email from Merle, Hayley read it twice, then saved it. She sat staring into space for a few moments, letting the news sink into and penetrate her consciousness. She hadn’t been wrong about their connection. She hugged herself and gave herself a nice virtual pat on the back for succeeding at this step. First step, divorce, second step, new home. Good-bye pastel Sunset and pastel straight life, and hello vibrant multicolored Bernal Heights and the rainbow gay life. That thought made Hayley giggle. She was such a nut sometimes, but that wasn’t the worst way to get through life. Her mind started racing with a mental to-do list, but she slowed it down on purpose and hit her son Robbie’s number on speed dial. He picked up after a couple rings.
“Ma. What up?”
“Hi, sweetie. I wanted you to be the first to know. I’ve found a new place to live.”
“No shit? Where?”
“Bernal Heights.”
“All right. You’re gonna live in a hip neighborhood. That’s great. Matt Nathanson lives there. You knew that, right?”
“Nope, Rob. That’s why I have you to keep me abreast of important things. Who’s Matt Nathanson?”
“Ma!” She knew he was rolling his eyes. “Famous local singer songwriter?”
“Play me a tune of his sometime.”
“Sure. I bet you want me to help you move, right?”
“How’d you know that?” She liked to tease him.
“I’m psychic. Tell me when and I’ll make time. I’ll bring someone with me. I think Roger would be okay with helping.”
“That’s lovely. I’ll get beer and pizza for you guys.”
“How can I resist that offer?” He laughed.
“I believe that’s what you live on, right?”
“Nah. Sometimes I make Kraft mac and cheese if I’m feeling ambitious.” They both laughed.
After she hung up on Robbie, Hayley sat down with her legal pad and started to make her list. Her mind drifted, however, back to the day when she got her courage up and informed her son she was really a lesbian. He was the first person she told.
She was still trying to think of how to break the news to her mother. Her dad had passed away several years before, and she thought it unnecessary to tell her ex-husband since she wasn’t planning on him being a part of her life. Her son, on the other hand, had always been and always would be very important to her, and he deserved to know the truth. As she’d hoped, he’d been surprised at first but then took the news much the same way he’d responded when hearing about his parents’ divorce: in stride. Her mother was a different story, and Hayley planned to wait as long as possible. Her mom was just not the easygoing kind.
When she was growing up, Hayley had heard her folks make comments about gay people when a news story aired on TV. No one really, and especially no one in the Bay Area, could ignore the existence of LGBTQ folks. In the suburb of Concord, however, not many people had gotten the memo that gay was okay. That number included her mom, Ellie. That part of Hayley’s coming-out process would have to wait. She had more important things to think about, like going on dates.
Between bouts of packing, Hayley took time to try one of the meet-ups. She’d chosen one online, and on Friday, she was off to an art-show opening with a bunch of strange women. She tried not to think of it that way but rather to think of them as potential friends. She was usually easy about meeting people, but the lesbian angle threw her for a loop. She felt like an awkward teenager going to her first dance.
She decided to drive since it was held in the Civic Center area in Hayes Valley. She’d looked up both Hayes Valley and the gallery online. She was mildly interested in art, especially contemporary women painters who specialized in naturalism. This was an abstract artist, but she was going mainly for the social aspect. The meet-up description specified cultural events. What did she have to lose?
At the entrance to the Singer Gallery on Hayes Street stood two women with name tags reading Hazel and Andy. They were the organizers. After she walked up to them and announced her name, they beamed and shook hands. Hazel produced a name label, wrote Hayley’s name and, before Hayley could say anything, peeled the back off and smoothed it over Hayley’s left breast. She would have preferred to do that herself, but hey, maybe lesbians had different sorts of boundaries that she’d have to get used to. Hazel and Andy told her they were a couple, which she’d already figured out.
“But,” Andy said, sotto voce, “lots of single women come to these meet-ups.”
Hayley gave a noncommittal smile. She didn’t want them to get the idea she was overeager even if she was. She just wanted to talk to a single lesbian with whom she might go out on a date.
The three of them stood at the door chatting, and then, out of the dark, another woman appeared, alone. Hayley took that as a good sign.
“Hi, is this the meet-up?” She addressed the question to the three of them collectively.
Hayley kept quiet and let Hazel and Andy take charge. They got the new person duly name-tagged and introduced her to Hayley.
She stood about a head shorter than Hayley, wore a beret, and when she got close she reeked of cigarette smoke. Her name tag read “Willow.” Under her beret she had steel-gray hair that appeared rather badly cut.
“Hi, I’m Hayley,” she said by force of habit, even though her name tag said so.
“Yeah, I see that.” Willow focused on Hayley’s name tag or maybe her breast. Were lesbians like men and prone to ogling women’s breasts? Hayley hoped not. It was probably just a coincidence. Willow’s scratchy voice went with the odor of cigarettes that hung about her. Hayley hated cigarettes and cigarette smoke.
“You been to one a these before?” Willow growled rather than spoke.
“No. It’s my first time. How about you?”
“Oh ho, a virgin.” Willow cackled. “Nah. Been to a bunch a them. Tough to meet women in this town. I’m from Chicago. Got transferred last year. I been single awhile. It’s not easy after getting this skin condition. I got it covered up with the hat but still…” Willow smirked and raised her eyebrows.
Hayley tried to think of something to say or, better yet, a reason to stop this conversation.
She was saved by another introduction, this time to another couple.
A mini-rush of people joining them distracted her, and then Hazel and Andy announced they would go inside to the reception. Ambling around in their little group made Hayley feel like she was on a school field trip. Once inside the gallery, she grabbed a glass of white wine and a little plate of hors d’oeuvres and broke away on her own to start looking at the paintings. She took a sip of the wine, which tasted like sweetened vinegar, but she should have expected that. The little noshes were better but a bit soggy. She stood before a painting that seemed to have been created by dumping several colors on the canvas and then stirring them together. It looked like vomit. She was cautiously biting into another hors d’oeuvre when she heard a raspy voice at her elbow. She didn’t have to look to know who it belonged to.
“I don’t get this art crap, really. I thought what the hell, I mig
ht as well show up. Free drinks. Maybe some interesting people.” Hayley turned to make polite eye contact, and Willow grinned. Hayley guessed that she counted as “interesting.” She shouldn’t be surprised that women would view this occasion as a pick-up opportunity. That was what she was looking for, after all. Well, not a pick-up, not exactly anyhow. She and Willow appeared to be the only single women in attendance. That was depressing. She didn’t want to spend the evening being breathed on by a smoker with a rash.
“Say, what about you?” Willow asked.
She was being addressed so she had to answer. “Oh, um. Just wanted to sort of get out and about?”
“You new in town?” Willow talked like Humphrey Bogart.
“Oh no. Not exactly. I’ve lived here a long time.” Hayley didn’t think it was the time to get into her entire psychosexual history.
“Huh.” Willow appeared confused but still wanting to keep the conversation going.
“Oh, excuse me.” Hayley had to escape. She nearly trotted over to Andy and Hazel.
“I’m getting a bit of a headache so I think I’ll take off. Nice to meet you.”
“Sure,” Hazel said. “Take care. Come out again some time.”
“Thanks. Maybe I will. See you.”
Hayley waved at Willow from across the gallery and received a puzzled glare in return. She retrieved her car and drove home in a funk. This hadn’t been very worthwhile, though she didn’t know what she’d expected. As she got ready for bed, she counseled herself not to get discouraged, that she’d just started and shouldn’t expect things to happen quickly.
She picked up the book she’d been reading. On Britt’s suggestion, she’d ordered a couple of lesbian romances online. The one she was currently reading concerned an uptight but hot prosecutor and a charmingly disheveled defense attorney squaring away on opposite sides of a criminal case. It was cute. Hayley made herself read through it page by page and not skip ahead to the sex parts. When she was reading, she enjoyed the buildup of sexual tension and then the resolution of it. She liked to fantasize how that would happen one day for her. The books made it extremely plain what women did. Oddly, the prose descriptions of sex aroused her more than the sex scenes in The L Word had.
Hayley was both grateful for the lessons and deeply excited by the books. She wanted to do everything she’d read about. Or have it done to her. She shivered and got butterflies thinking about it. She had vivid masturbation fantasies, but she was making no progress toward living her own lesbian romance. She supposed it was too soon to give up on meet-ups, but she wanted to figure out other ways to meet lesbians that didn’t have to do with going to clubs.
She told Britt about her evening the next day at work, and Britt grimaced.
“Yeah, you got to watch out for trolls.”
“Trolls?”
“Yep. Ugly people.” Britt seemed to think this was a perfectly okay thing to say, and Hayley had to bite her tongue. The next thing Britt said was even worse.
“You know, you’re pretty good-looking for someone your age.” Britt was oblivious to the backhandedness of that compliment.
“Well, thanks. I guess.”
“No, really. You ought to be able to meet someone.”
“Yes. I ought to but I’m clueless.”
“Don’t you know anyone your age?”
“Nope, I don’t—wait a minute.” Hayley stopped herself. She did know someone: Merle.
But she didn’t know if Merle was a lesbian; she only assumed she was. She had to confirm it, and then she could ask her how to meet women—of the right age. She surely would have some ideas. One thing at a time, Hayley counseled herself. Step by step.
*
“She’s got good taste in home furnishings, I’ll say that much for her,” Clea said. They were there to pick Merle up for a rare evening AA meeting. Sigrid had been invited to tell her AA story at a big Friday-night meeting, and Clea and Merle were going along to be supportive. Also they were going out to dinner first.
“We agreed on what to buy and she bought it. I don’t see anything wrong with that deal. If she moves out, though, I’ll have to think of something else.”
“How’s it going, anyhow, other than you have nice new furniture?” Sigrid asked.
“Fine.”
“So she’s a dyke?” Clea asked.
“Honestly, I don’t know, and truly I don’t care. She’s really nice. She’s quiet and neat so far.”
“Huh,” Clea said. At that moment, Hayley came down the stairs wearing tan slacks and a red cotton blouse. She walked into the living room with her hand out first to Sigrid, then to Clea. Merle watched their reaction. Their eyes lit up and Merle could see why. Hayley looked wonderful. Her clothes fit her well, and she was clearly used to being sociable and meeting people. Merle envied her that ability. Merle could make a newcomer in AA feel welcome and comfortable, but her social skills were learned, not natural, and she still felt shy in a lot of situations.
“Hi! I’m Hayley,” she said.
“These are my friends Sigrid and Clea. They’ve come to take me to a meeting. Dinner first, though.”
Hayley tilted her head. “Meeting?”
“AA,” Merle said.
“Oh, right. Sure. Well, have fun. Nice to meet you. Sorry, but I have to get going.” She smiled one more time and walked back toward the kitchen.
Sigrid caught Merle’s eye and raised her eyebrows.
“Let’s go.” She turned toward the kitchen and yelled, “Bye, Hayley.” A faint response came back.
In their car, Merle said into the silence, “So?”
“Not a lesbian,” Clea said.
“How the hell can you be so sure?” For some reason, this apparent snap judgment incensed Merle.
“I just know.”
“Good thing too, Mer. ’Cause if she was, I’d say you better jump on that.”
“Sigi!” Clea sounded shocked.
Merle was irritated. “Come on, Sigrid. I told you. I’m not jumping on anything for a long time. Can we change the subject?”
Later, when they were settled in their chairs and the meeting proceeded through its preliminaries, Merle’s mind wandered. The suggestion that she ought to have sex with Hayley really discomfited her. That was a preposterous idea on every level. But Sigrid had put it out there, and Merle was likely going to think about it every time she saw Hayley, which would be just about every day.
That was bad. She wasn’t lying to her friends when she said she wasn’t interested in starting up anything with anyone. Most definitely she was not going to start anything with her new housemate, who wasn’t even a lesbian for certain. Merle was actually glad she didn’t know for sure so she could put Hayley in a specific category labeled Untouchable.
Sigrid was teasing, as she sometimes did, just to get a rise out of Clea or Merle or both. It was harmless fun, and Merle was being oversensitive. Merle’s biggest worry about Hayley was making sure they could function as roommates. That was enough to focus on at the moment.
*
Merle was sitting on the living room couch reading when Hayley came home from work.
“Hi!” Hayley said brightly. “How are you doing?” Before she could answer, Hayley had gone upstairs. She shook her head and went back to her book.
A few minutes later, Hayley flopped next to her on the couch. “Hey, what would you think if we got a TV? I mean, I’d buy it but we could both watch. Maybe we could split the cable? TV’s useless without cable. I can see if I can sweet-talk the cable people into giving me a deal and…” She stopped talking suddenly and looked at Merle.
“Oh, sorry, were you reading? Is this a bad time? I’m really sorry. I just get so excited by whatever’s in my head, and I start talking and don’t pay attention…” She appeared to realize she was still talking and hadn’t let Merle say a word. She tilted her head.
Merle liked that gesture though the tumble of words annoyed her. She placed a marker in the book, put it down on the table, and
turned to look at Merle. “I’m not much of a TV watcher,” she said.
Hayley looked comically deflated. “Oh.”
“But if you want a TV, feel free to put one in your bedroom.”
“Oh. Okay. Right. Sorry to bother you.” Hayley left the room.
Merle felt like a heel. Hayley’s question was innocent, normal. She could have been more open-minded. They had to share the common areas of the house. When she thought about it, watching TV alone in one’s bedroom didn’t sound like all that much fun, even if Hayley liked it. She was also clearly reaching out to Merle, and Merle had rebuffed her.
Hayley was friendly, generous, and open, and Merle was acting like she had a communicable disease. She’d obviously gotten out of practice living with a roommate. Or maybe she was just too old to make a new friend. That was ridiculous. She made new friends in AA all the time, but that was different. She was there to help people. Why did she need that milieu to spur her to get to know someone new?
*
Hayley was in the law-library conference room, supposedly doing research for a new case. She had several heavy legal books spread out on the table, but in reality, she was thinking about how to get her new housemate to be more friendly. She’d been living with Merle a couple of weeks, yet she knew no more about her than what she’d gleaned the day they first met. Her TV idea had been soundly rejected, and she hadn’t made any other attempts at conversation beyond “hello” or “good-bye.” Merle gave off a clear “don’t bother me” aura, which made Hayley more curious about her than ever.
“Hayley?” Lois, the office manager, was standing somewhere behind her shoulder.
Hayley turned toward her, trying not to look like she’d been daydreaming instead of researching. “Yep?”
“Adam is still at court but Tom Banner is here. They’re supposed to meet at three o’clock. Adam texted that he’ll be twenty minutes late. Can you talk to them?”
This was a new client. The case concerned alleged age discrimination. The attorney wanted a complete summary of all the case law Hayley could find since he hadn’t tried this type of case before. It involved a big, deep-pocketed corporation and one of its longtime employees, an engineer being “laid off,” so they claimed.
Warm November Page 6
