“I’ve run on way too much. Occupational hazard when you have a passion for your job.”
“It’s fine. I truly admire that and admire you for doing that kind of work.”
“What about you?” Terry cocked her eyebrow, causing Hayley to focus on her eyebrow ring. “How do you feel about what you do?”
“I love it. Mainly because the lawyers at my law office are on the side of justice. They don’t defend big businesses who defraud the public or destroy the environment. They help people with employment-discrimination cases.”
“Awesome. Any queer clients?”
“For sure. Many.” Hayley flashed on Sabine and herself in the restroom.
“The work you do is important.”
“I like to think so.”
Terry reached across the table to take Hayley’s hand.
“Trust me, it is.” Hayley didn’t withdraw her hand, but she felt uneasy and unsure.
Terry squeezed her hand, grinned, and said, “Let’s take a walk.”
“All right.”
They went out to Mission Street, then over to Valencia Street, where the sidewalks were clustered with people. The young and the hip, Hayley thought a little sourly, but she wasn’t uncomfortable because of the ambience. She knew she was going to face a kiss sometime soon.
They walked slowly with no special destination and looked in store windows. Valencia Street hosted a number of decorating and furniture stores. Hayley seized upon these as a distraction, and Terry was indulgent.
“I’ve still got a couple things to buy for the house. You know Merle. Do you think she’d like this lamp?”
“Don’t know that side of her, sorry.”
Hayley looked over the lamp critically. “What side do you know?”
“The animal-loving, dog-training side,” Terry said with a slight edge to her voice.
“Oh?”
“Yep. That’s how we relate.”
“I see.” Hayley sensed the energy shift and knew Terry wasn’t interested in discussing Merle.
As if on cue, Terry said, “I’d rather talk about you, if you don’t mind. Tell me more about you.” And then Hayley knew she was going to have to have the same conversation with every new woman she met. The one where she had to tell her backstory.
She’d have to come up with something that didn’t sound lame or reveal too much info. Like how she had exactly zero sexual experience with women. The bathroom grope with Sabine was it. She presumed everyone in her age range had a lot of years and a lot of different women behind them, but she was starting from scratch. She really was like a teenager, which wasn’t a welcome feeling.
“There’s not much to tell. I was married for years and—”
“Yeah. So you said.”
“I’ve got a twenty-six-year-old son named Robbie.”
“Nice. So you haven’t been out for very long?”
“Right.”
“Am I your first?”
“My first? What?” Hayley was a little alarmed.
“First date.”
“Yes. You are.”
“That’s nice. I mean. I’m glad you decided to go out with me.”
“Well. I wanted to.” That was true enough.
“Let’s go get a drink. I know a place close by. Not a gay bar but it’s okay.”
“Sure.” Hayley didn’t especially want a drink, but she didn’t want to be rude, and she wanted to see this through to the end.
Once they’d gotten their drinks, beer for Terry and dry white wine for Hayley, they huddled close at the bar. Hayley was aware of the pressure of Terry’s arm on her own. It wasn’t unpleasant but didn’t cause any of her nerves to zing.
“I haven’t gone out with anyone for quite a while. Certainly not anyone as fine as you.”
Hayley absorbed the compliment, but it didn’t make her tingle. It embarrassed her. She could only manage a weak smile in return.
“That’s very sweet.” They sipped their drinks during a semi-awkward pause.
“This isn’t going anywhere, is it?” Terry asked this question in a matter-of-fact way.
“I’m sorry, no.” Hayley was sorry.
“Don’t be. I’m not. I can always tell on the first date what the deal is, and you’re not there.”
Terry was way more astute than Hayley would have expected, which was refreshing, as was her honesty.
Terry took a big swallow of her drink and said, “We both know it’s not good to waste time. Friends?”
“Yes. Of course. Absolutely.”
“Good. Let’s take you home.” That phrase instantly brought Merle to mind. Hayley hoped she’d be there and be in the living room or kitchen. Hayley always left her alone when she was in her bedroom. They weren’t college girls who had to talk all the time about every little thing. They gave each other mental and physical space.
The ride back to Bernal was blessedly short. Hayley practically leaped out of the car in her haste to get away from any possible kiss.
“Thanks so much. We’ll talk soon. Might see you out dog-walking!”
“Maybe. So long.” With that, Terry drove away.
Hayley opened the front door, and to her delight, Merle looked up from her seat on the couch. Arthur was next to her and looked up too, and his tail started to wag. Hayley was irrationally happy to see both of them, although Arthur’s greeting was the more animated of the two. Merle smiled, but just barely. This wasn’t unusual. Hayley attributed her apparent lack of affect to her being at home alone and missing her ex-lover. Merle never said anything about her feelings. Hayley was just speculating but knew that was how she would feel.
“Hi there,” she said brightly.
“Hi yourself. How was your date?”
“Oh, fine. It was Foreign Cinema and the Mission district and Valencia Street corridor and all.”
Merle grinned. “Didn’t you feel like you were with the in crowd?”
Hayley had learned when she was teasing, though her tone was as dry as the Mojave Desert. “I don’t think people call it that now, Merle. That’s kind of a sixties phrase.”
“Yep. Sure is. But we’re sixties-type girls.” She put a bookmark in her book and set it on the coffee table. She said, “Arthur, buddy. Down!”
Arthur took a long time to unwind himself and slide to the floor. Merle and Hayley looked at each other and giggled at his comic reluctance to give up his cushy spot on the couch.
Hayley sat down next to Merle and curled her legs under her. She’d preferred to sit that way since she was a little girl. She angled herself to face Merle and propped her elbow on the back of the couch.
“Funny you should say that. I’m a child of the sixties for certain. My mom loved Hayley Mills movies, and that’s who I’m named for.”
Merle was sitting with her stocking feet propped up on the coffee table and her hands loose at her side. She half turned toward Hayley and stretched her arm out so that her hand nearly touched Hayley’s arm. It seemed she was comfortable and willing to talk, and that cheered Hayley.
Merle grinned. “You don’t say. Which was your favorite? Which was your mom’s fave?”
“Mom loved them all, but her favorite was Pollyanna.”
Merle chuckled. “Okay. How about yours?”
“I liked That Darn Cat best. I think because of the cat mostly.”
“Yep. I remember that.”
“I love movies. All kinds, but especially the romantic comedies like the ones with Doris Day and Rock Hudson.”
“Yeah. Those movies are a lot of fun. What was playing at Foreign Cinema?”
“Jules and Jim. Not really my style.”
“Not mine either. How was dinner?”
“Dinner was tasty. Really good. I had some fish and kale made some sort of way that made it taste great.”
“Sure.”
A silence followed, and before she could think about it too much, Hayley said abruptly, “Does it make me a bad person if I don’t want to date Terry?”
<
br /> Merle furrowed her brows. “Not at all. Why would you think that? Haven’t we processed this already?”
Hayley turned around and put her head back on the couch and said to the ceiling,
“I don’t know. I want to meet women, but when I meet them, I can’t get interested.”
“Hayley. You’re not expected to be attracted to everyone you meet. That’s not only not possible, but it could be a very bad idea.”
“I guess I know that’s true. I just don’t want to hurt people’s feelings.”
“Don’t worry about Terry. She’s tough.”
“I know. That’s part of the problem. She’s too, I don’t know, too hard.”
“Well, she’s got a total heart of gold, empathy to spare, so some of that’s façade. It’s hard to explain.”
From what little she’d seen of Terry, she was empathetic and self-aware. It was a good combination, but not enough to light Hayley’s fire.
“Did you ever go out with her?”
“Nope. That wouldn’t work.” Merle fell quiet, and Hayley wanted her to keep talking. She wanted to know more about what and who Merle liked and why.
“Why not?” Merle seemed somewhat unsettled.
“I—uh. We don’t…”
Her discomfiture almost made Hayley want to drop the subject, but instead, she asked, “Is it because you’re both butch?”
“Sort of. She’s not my type, I guess.”
“Not mine either.”
Hayley almost said, “You’re more my type. If I have a type.” But she didn’t want to stir up any trouble, and she wasn’t sure what that meant anyhow. She thought Merle was nice looking but in an aesthetic way, not a I-want-to-rip-your-clothes-off kind of way. She’d determined that was the only safe spot her feelings could inhabit. Let out of their cage, they could be truly dangerous and could end up getting her kicked out of her new home.
Her thoughts about Merle were instructive, though, because they informed Hayley of what to look for when it came to women. It couldn’t be that tough to find other women like her. But when it came to Merle, she wasn’t going to give her thoughts free rein. She wanted someone like Merle but not Merle. Merle was the model, not the real thing, not the ONE.
Merle was looking at her with a strangely vague expression and nodding. She seemed to be thinking of something else.
“What about your ex?” Hayley asked boldly.
“Yeah. Kay. She had longer hair, brown and wavy. Gray eyes. Pretty.”
“She must have been. You loved her very much?”
Merle sighed. “I did. I guess, after a while she didn’t love me back so much. She didn’t articulate her feelings very well, and she was a go-along-to-get-along sort. Some people call that codependent. Maybe. I call it dishonest.”
“What in the world does ‘codependent’ mean?” Hayley was dumbfounded by the term.
“Well. It can mean someone who enables an alcoholic to keep on drinking, but not always. It can mean someone who takes care of everyone else but herself. For Kay that meant not telling me the truth about her feelings. She fell out of love with me, but she hung on for a really long time trying to get it back so I wouldn’t be upset.”
“That’s terrible.”
“Yes, it is.” Merle folded her hands in her lap, looking glum and resigned.
She said no more and that seemed to be the end of the conversation.
Hayley yawned. “Well. I think I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning. I can walk Arthur by myself tomorrow, right? Look for more dog-loving dykes in the hood?” She was relieved to see Merle laugh lightly. Her despondency had passed.
“Yes. He’s all yours. You can have fun seeing who stops to talk to you.”
“Great. Sleep well. See you!” Hayley stood up and stretched and went upstairs to her bedroom, leaving Merle behind on the couch.
*
Arthur wasted no time in hopping back up on the couch and lying down in the warm spot Hayley had left. Merle put her hand on him and patted him, letting the feel of his solid body help her get over her mild discomfort.
She’d been glad to see Hayley come home early. She’d predicted this date would be a one-shot thing and didn’t seriously believe it would be extended overnight. Nonetheless, she’d been relieved and gratified when Hayley walked through the front door. Not that there’d be a thing wrong with Hayley going out with Terry, but Merle was still happy to be proven correct. Their conversation had taken an unexpectedly intimate turn, though, which unsettled her. She was always being reminded of how good-looking Hayley was. As time went on, Hayley was becoming even more alluring than she’d been at their initial meeting. She’d widen those big brown eyes and tilt her head. Even her mild confusion and uncertainty about women was endearing. She enticed Merle to talk about Kay even if she didn’t want to.
But Merle didn’t want to go there, no way, no how.
She was fine as long as they kept a fair amount of distance, but their intimacy was deepening, and she both wanted it and wanted to push it away. Hayley sitting close to her on the couch and talking in her open and artless way and asking questions made her uneasy and happy at the same time. They were straying into very personal territory. Hayley was obviously naturally open and understandably curious about women and sexuality. And she was vulnerable. It was reasonable for her to ask Merle questions.
By temperament, Merle was a helpful person. She responded to other peoples’ needs as best she could while establishing good emotional boundaries. She’d put a lot of work into developing those boundaries while she was in recovery and helping new people get sober.
It was vital to be very supportive but to also be very self-protective with newly sober alcoholics, or she could get sucked into their drama. She’d been well schooled by other sober alcoholics and by experience on how to walk that tightrope. She’d heard far too many harrowing stories. A friend of a friend had ended up drinking because she got too close to the woman she was sponsoring, who got drunk. She knew more than one instance of a person with long-term recovery who became sexually involved with a newcomer, and it was a mess for everyone.
She ought to be able to keep good boundaries with her newbie lesbo roommate. It shouldn’t be a heavy lift. Hayley wasn’t a screwed-up drug addict or alcoholic. She was a pleasant, intelligent woman with very little life experience. Merle voiced an exasperated snort that caused Arthur to look at her with his head tilted. The more she tried to justify her interest in Hayley, the more irritable with herself she became.
“Arthur, your mission tomorrow is to find some women for Hayley to focus on. Eligible women. I can do only so much.” How much and what she’d be able to do to help Hayley without getting entwined in her life in an unhealthy way was the real question. As she got ready for sleep she decided she needed to explore this topic with Clea and Sigrid. She needed some good old-fashioned tough love, and they were just the people to deliver it. The proverbial iron-hand-in-the-velvet-glove approach worked every time, on her as well as on anyone else. And she needed to stop talking aloud to Arthur. It was starting to bug her.
Chapter Seven
Hayley thought maybe she ought to give a meet-up another chance. A couple things on the calendar looked good. On impulse, she Googled “lesbian” and “coming out” and “San Francisco.” A dozen listings popped up. She investigated them one by one. Most were for younger people, she surmised, just by their wording. But one read “Coming Out Late in Life.” That had a certain ring of familiarity to it. Hayley was skeptical of so-called self-help methods. They all sounded hokey to her.
But she really needed someone to talk to. Merle was okay, but she wanted to keep their relationship on a nice, friendly, even keel. Right where it was. Further emotional intimacy between them might inevitably ratchet up Hayley’s attraction. She was grateful that though she wasn’t mature enough to stop the feelings cold, she was experienced enough to know when to put the brakes on. She had to stick to her plan of getting out and about and meeting wome
n.
She typed a meeting listed for Thursday at six p.m. at the Women’s Building into her phone calendar. It was worth a try. It might be good to find other people to talk to because she was feeling lost and unsure. Maybe she needed to try something different. She couldn’t rely on Merle for support all the time.
The Women’s Building of the Bay Area took up an entire block of Eighteenth Street right on the border of the Mission District and the Castro District. Its outer walls were completely covered with riotously colored murals, all depicting women, naturally.
Hayley took a moment to admire the paintings and to collect herself before going upstairs to attend the Forty Plus Coming Out group. She should have known, if there was an issue, there’d be a group for it. The Bay Area was a hotbed of self-improvement. Well, there was something to be said for talking with other people who had the same problem as you. AA obviously worked for Merle. Hayley had rarely seen anyone so self-confident and together and so genuine… There she went again, thinking about Merle. Stop it, she told herself sternly. Focus.
Hayley was at least as nervous about this meeting as she’d been about attending the meet-up. For that matter, she was more nervous about going to this group than going on a date. What it would be like to bare your soul in front of a bunch of strangers? It was definitely not her style. She’d never had anyone to talk to, at least about anything important. She’d deliberately tamped down her emotions for most of her life. Being in a dead-end marriage didn’t help. She’d had friends but couldn’t remember saying much of anything that really meant something. Her friendships were superficial at best. She supposed therapy might be a good thing too, but this coming-out group somehow seemed more palatable. It was free, anyhow.
She walked into the room, feeling like the new kid in a school where everyone already knows one another. That feeling went right along with all the other awkward teenage emotions she’d experienced recently. If she was going to have to relive her adolescence, she might as well hit all the stops.
Warm November Page 10
