Painted Moon Part 7

A sunny, winter day in the Bay Area meant sixty degrees and the temptation to put the top down on the MG. The fresh air would clear her head and Jackie needed her wits if she was going to talk to Parker honestly about their relationship. Her thick head was the result of having had a bit too much wine, dinner and dessert with Mary the night before.

After agreeing that she only had to work through the following Friday, Mannings had proceeded to load her with so much work she'd had to cancel last weekend with Parker. She hadn't made much of a fuss - she knew she also needed the time to work out what her feelings toward Leah meant. He had accepted her call with distracted resignation. His easy acceptance left her even more unsettled. After she hung up she realized he hadn't asked her why she was so busy.

Each time she had sent another CAD layout to the ma.s.sive rendering printer she spent the minutes waiting for her screen to rebuild and thinking long and hard about Leah. And s.e.x. And Parker. And commitment.

She had concluded that being cooped up in a cabin with someone could make anyone think they were attracted to that person. And everyone had s.e.xual impulses. Yes, she was almost certain that the moments with Leah had been a fluke.

She would have felt better except for the "almost."

However she might have felt toward Leah or might feel toward women in the future had nothing to do with her feelings for Parker. With far more certainty she felt that he did indeed take her for granted. And she was sure her feelings did not have the strength to last a lifetime. Her parents' example had taught her to expect nothing less. She didn't know where that left her, but she did know that something between her and Parker needed to change. Either they would get stronger and tighter, which seemed unlikely, or break apart completely - and that idea scared her.

She put her energy into appreciating the beauty of the day. The Junipero Serra freeway was one of the loveliest in the entire area - it made the drives to San Jose bearable. The muted gold of the gra.s.s-covered hills and gray-green leaves of the eucalyptus trees glimmered in the brilliant golden sunshine. The sky was achingly blue. Abruptly she wondered what Leah would make of the light and color.

She tried getting angry with herself for reopening a topic she had decided to put aside, but her heart wasn't in it. So she made herself think about Parker.

What would she say to him? All her resolution faded away and she mentally kicked herself. Did she or didn't she want to end it with him?

What did she want, anyway?

Leah flickered into her thoughts. It's like this between women...

She stopped at the grocery store and bought some soda and m.u.f.fins. She stood for a long time in front of the condoms, then reluctantly added a packet to her basket. She recognized that she was steeling herself for the prospect of having s.e.x with Parker. Maybe everything would be all right if she did. Everything would go back to normal.

In front of the juice boxes she realized what she had told herself. That she felt abnormal. She had twisted her impulses until unwillingly having s.e.x with Parker seemed normal while going blissfully and easily to Leah's bed was wrong.

She paid for the groceries and sat numbly in her car. If not for Leah, then how long might she have gone not recognizing her s.e.xual desires? After she got married? Should she be glad it hadn't come to that? To have to leave someone because they were fundamentally the wrong partner? After she had children? Children... yes, she wanted to be a mother. As good a mother as her own had been. The world needed good parents.

Pieces of her life slipped into place. Finally, a whole emerged that made sense. If she wanted children, then she must want s.e.x with men - that had been the false theory that had made her ignore what might have been with Kelly and look to Parker for her future.

A half-hour slipped away, then nearly another as she coped with the secret she'd uncovered. She pulled at the idea from all sides and it stayed intact. She was suspicious of it - it was too easy an answer. But it fit. It explained the choices she'd made the way nothing else did. She hadn't moved across the country for love, but to keep the choice of having a family open.

Stupid. She felt so stupid. She remembered now a billboard she'd seen in San Francisco featuring two women, one with her hand on the other's swelling tummy. The caption had said something about family values. She had thought it very San Francisco and cool. Inside she had felt confused and sad. Now she knew why. They'd figured out something she hadn't. Lesbians were around her everywhere, women with babies, sperm banks, ads for gay parent support groups - she'd seen it all and been absolutely oblivious about what it could mean for her.

Well now she'd seen what it could mean. She'd certainly taken her time, too.

She left the groceries in the car and went to Parker's apartment, unlocking the door with the key she'd already removed from her ring. He wasn't home yet. It was the matter of a few minutes' work to pack up the belongings that had acc.u.mulated in his place into a couple of grocery sacks. When they had moved out from Boston and needed to furnish two places they'd done most of the arguing about what belonged to whom. She could look back now and see that it had been the beginning of the end.

She carried the bags down to her car, then went back to the apartment to wait. She tried to think of what she would say, but nothing brilliant occurred to her.

His key in the lock startled her heart into her throat. The brief moment in which he smiled at her across the room gave her a shock. She had not known how she would feel when she saw him. She wondered if she had ever deeply loved him. No, she was beyond wondering. She knew that she had not.

But she hadn't expected to feel this way. As he crossed the room she remembered that he had an engaging laugh, and she saw once again that he was lean and attractive in a bookish, sleepy way. She was beset with memories of good, fun times. The museums they had prowled through together, the picnics and hikes, the moments of pa.s.sion when she had been satisfied in his arms.

She deliberately made herself think of Leah. It's like this between women... The shudder in her stomach put her feelings for Parker into perspective. She didn't want to hurt him but it was over.

"Howdy, stranger." He dropped a friendly kiss on her cheek, then set his satchel and keys on the couch. He brushed his blond-brown hair out of his eyes. She opened her mouth to chide him about getting it cut, then stopped herself. She noticed he looked tired and pale - normally she would also chide him about not getting enough sleep or the right food. "How's it going?"

A deceptively simple question. Say something, she told herself, you're in your head too much. "Very strangely," she finally managed. She wouldn't do him any favors if she tried to lead up to tilings gently. "There are lots of things going on for me right now."

He nodded distractedly and then - deliberately, she realized - didn't look her in the eye.

For the first time she considered that maybe she wasn't the only one not entirely happy with the way their relationship was going. For a moment she felt something between jealousy and betrayal.

"I have a new job."

He did glance at her then. "Yeah? How'd that happen?" He sank onto the couch, but he didn't look comfortable.

Jackie sat down in the armchair and succinctly explained. He congratulated her and appeared to be listening, but his gaze was everywhere but on her while she talked. When her story trailed to an end he rambled about his software project, but bis thoughts were disjointed, as though he couldn't concentrate. He sounded like she had while describing her new job. As though he didn't want to tell her too much because he didn't want her to be too interested. It suddenly seemed to her that neither of them was investing energy into something they both knew was dead.

They sat in silence for a few moments and Jackie fought against the overwhelming feeling of sadness in the pit of her stomach. Then Parker suddenly sat up and began talking to her instead of around her.

"I've been thinking." He slowly slid onto one elbow and leaned heavily on the arm of the couch. "Have you given any thought to where we're going? Us, I mean."

Perhaps a year ago she might have thought Parker was beginning a proposal of marriage. "Yes I have." She stared at his fingers, recalling his touch on her. Should she feel revolted? She didn't - she just recognized that he didn't move her to the heights she now suspected existed. "We don't seem to have any... sizzle left," she said finally.

Parker heaved a sigh of relief. Jackie thought it needn't have been quite so heartfelt. "I know what you mean," he said.

She straightened her spine and took a deep breath. "Let's not drag it out, okay? The regrets I have were all my own doing."

He stared down at the coffee table and Jackie saw his lower lashes dampen. "I'm sorry," he said.

She reached across the gap between them and covered his hands with her own. "Don't be. I think we can say it's mutual. I... I came to a decision before I got here today. I've already gathered my things. I'm sorry too."

"Is there someone else?"

It's like this between women... Her heart thumped hollowly as she answered. "No one particular person. But I've -"

"There is for me. I feel real bad about it. I... we went out for the first time last weekend and something happened and I couldn't lie to you. You're too fine for that. I just can't... I can't be with you again. I want to be with her." His regret came through strongly. She sensed he was telling her the truth. She knew that he needn't have told her anything and was glad of his honesty. It called for honesty from her in return.

"It's okay. I think..." Jackie swallowed then continued. 'I think we both knew it was ending and it opened our eyes to new possibilities. I hope she is everything you need."

'I hope you find happiness too." He squeezed her hands.

Jackie realized that she could avoid telling him she was attracted to women. She could slide out of his life and he could never know. But what if he found out later? Would he think something stupid, like that he had made her turn gay? And in the end maybe she didn't care what he knew and didn't know, but she cared how she felt about herself. He'd been honest with her. Besides, if she couldn't tell Parker she would have trouble telling other people.

Not telling anyone didn't occur to her.

"I do have something I feel I should tell you." She released his hands and sat back in her chair. "I want you to know the whole truth. I think I... I prefer women. I think I'm a lesbian."

He stared at her blankly for a long moment, then pulled his hands away. Then he blinked and shook his head. He paled, then flooded with color all along his forehead and cheekbones. "What?"

"I think I'm a lesbian." She said it without a quiver.

"You think you're a... you think you like women in bed? Have you... you know?"

She shook her head. "But near enough to realize I've been blind to some feelings I've always had."

"Was I that bad in bed?" He sounded lost and hurt.

"No. I knew you'd think that," she said, her tone growing more acerbic. "It's not about you. It's about what I feel. I enjoyed what we did in bed." It was a little white lie because she hadn't always wanted to have s.e.x when he did. She promised herself that faking pa.s.sion would go the way of the condoms.

"Then why? I just don't understand." There - that was the Parker she had known lately. His chin was out and he was sure she had wronged him. He had looked just that way when she had suggested that he might be able to afford their last trip to the movies. But, no, they always went fifty-fifty, he'd said. Their relationship was equal, he'd said.

"Why are you in love with someone else? Why does anyone prefer s.e.x the way they do? There's a million ways to do it, and a million ways I haven't even thought of. All I know is that when I go looking for someone to be in my life I'll be looking for a woman." She patted his hands again but he slid them out from under hers. "I hope... I hope you can still wish me happiness."

His mouth twisted in an ugly grimace. "I can hope you come to your senses."

"Don't be a jerk," she said sharply. "I can hope you're happy."

"I will be. It's normal, after all."

Jackie opened her mouth to argue, then snapped it closed. She didn't know what to say. She was ill-prepared to argue the virtues of a lifestyle she hadn't even tried yet. She gave him The Look - it was the best she could do on short notice.

His Adam's apple bobbed. "Let's not fight about it."

Jackie sighed. "I'm not leaving you for another woman, you know. We're leaving each other. And you're the one with someone else."

He stared stonily at her for a moment then said, "So it's goodbye, then."

Her own goodbye lodged in her throat, making it ache.

She pulled off the freeway in Palo Alto, put the top down and took the long way home. The crimson and bronze sunset from the Pacifica cliffs promised a cloud-free! tomorrow.

The light in the cabin was bad. It was cold. The trips to town for supplies took too long. Washing brushes left the unpleasant odor of thinner hanging in the air, particularly in the loft. The stoves were tiring to maintain. She'd tried making biscuits and burned them to the point of having to throw out the pans.

She had even written a letter to her parents, not saying much beyond the depth of the snow and that she was getting by on her own. Her parents had made their disapproval of Sharla plain. Unlike Sharla's parents, however, they hadn't told her she was dead to them-they just couldn't see Leah unless she reformed. When she had written to say Sharla had died, her mother had responded with a beautifully copied text of a Brethren hymn accompanied by a gentle note of regret. She had even said that she understood Leah's grief. Since then, corresponding with her parents had been easier. They made no demands of each other. She was able, after all the years of frost, to wish them a joyous Christmas.

Her own Christmas was deadly dull and she missed the trappings of a big meal and someone to share it. On the days she was honest with herself, she admitted that it was Jackie she missed. For the first time since Sharla's death, Leah felt cramped in the cabin. Cramped and cranky. Even the clank of Butch's collar was getting on her nerves.

Wearily, she dropped a load of wood next to the kitchen stove. Her listless gaze fell on the phone. Completely on impulse, she looked up Maureen's phone number and dialed without giving herself the chance to think twice.

"The house is fine," Maureen told her soothingly. "The housekeeping service has been very conscientious. No intruders. I've left the garden alone like you said, but really, it needs some help before spring. Valentina knows a great gardener." Maureen's lulling tone was sensuous. It was completely unconscious on Maureen's part, and more than one woman had delighted in just listening to her, Leah included.

"I think I'll be coming back pretty soon," Leah said. "I'll do it... it'll be good therapy."

"You're probably right. It'll be good to see you. Val and I have been worried."

Tm better. I still feel - like half a person. But... well, anyway. I'm coming back. Coming home again."

"I can't wait to see you, Leah. Call me the moment you get in. I can't wait." Maureen sighed breathily into the phone. She did it with such innocent sincerity that it made Leah smile. Two years away from her friends - what had kept her away from the people she and Sharla had loved?

The prospect of going back to her lonely afternoon made Leah search for another topic. "How did the AIDS Dance-a-thon do this year?"

'I didn't go, but I heard it was a fun party," Maureen began. She summarized the income and expense, and dropped names and news in the categories of Brought in Big Bucks, New People on the Scene, Important Lesbians, the Intimate Friends of Important Lesbians, and Prima Donnas. Maureen was a volunteer in nearly 100% of the hours she didn't spend at her middle-management job in a large insurance company. She had at her fingertips the names of hundreds of people raising money for AIDS, breast cancer, domestic violence, experimental theater and lesbian and gay arts projects. Leah had gotten to know Maureen after Maureen had convinced her to be a jurist for a lesbian art show. "So if you're coming home I'll expect you to be there, okay?"

'Tm sorry, where again?"

"You haven't been listening to me at all, have you? I'm talking about the AIDS Foundation dinner."

"Is that all?" Leah smiled to herself.

"Of course not. I'll hit you up for about one event a month. Get you into circulation again."

"I'm not sure I want to circulate," Leah said. Going to dinners and dances alone would be a trial. She was also uncertain about how Constance fit into her future life.

Maureen tsk-ed. "Of course you do. I'll make sure you meet people who are fun to talk to. More than talk you'll have to arrange for yourself." Maureen's tone took on a definitely suggestive edge.

Leah rolled her eyes at the kitchen stove. "I'm definitely not in circulation for that. Not yet."

"Can't be a nun forever."

"From what I hear, some nuns have plenty of s.e.x. Now, who told me that?" Her voice was bland.

Maureen had a wicked laugh. "Well, I suppose I do know something about nuns and s.e.x. Having experienced Valentina's rapture repeatedly over the last six years."

When Leah hung up nearly an hour later Maureen had pinned her down for several events and extracted a firm promise to come to dinner so that Valentina could practice her latest recipes.

She snapped her fingers and Butch left her spot near the stove to nuzzle at Leah's knees. "Want to go home, girl?"

Butch's ears p.r.i.c.ked up and her wagging tail made emphatic yesses in the air.

"Leah? Me too."

9.

I-900-HOT-b.u.t.t.

Jackie dropped the newspaper as though her fingers were burned. Her cheeks flamed and she picked it up again, carefully arranging the pages so she didn't see the explicit photograph of a male posterior and the phone number again.

She read a review of a Theater Rhino production, then decided she needed another cafe latte. She made her way across the crowded patio to the coffee bar and placed her order. So this was Sunday afternoon in Noe Valley.

Her studio was in a less fashionable part of the Glen Park district, but it was easy by transit to get to Noe Valley - the part of the city that overflowed with lesbians. She knew that from reading the weekly alternative press. The men went to the bars in the Castro and the women went to coffeehouses in Noe Valley. At least that's what the advertis.e.m.e.nts implied. Now that she was experiencing the Noe Valley coffeehouse scene firsthand Jackie wasn't sure what she had thought she'd find.

Armed with her latte, she reclaimed her chair and went back to reading the gay weekly paper she'd picked up at the door. The calendar section detailed many holiday events for gays and lesbians, including a Messiah sing-along with the lesbian and gay choruses of San Francisco, which sounded like fun. There was a women-only dance on Christmas Eve to stave off the holiday blues, and a businesswomen's group was having dinner and a White Elephant gift exchange on Christmas Day at a posh restaurant.

The gay and lesbian community seemed determined to provide everyone with something to do over the holidays. Since Jackie wasn't going to be able to spend them with her folks, she appreciated the variety. After a moment she realized that there were probably many people whose families wouldn't welcome them if they tried to go home. She felt a tremor - what if her parents reacted like so many?

She forced the apprehension away. No, she had always stood firm on the foundation of their love for her. It was concrete with rebar and earthquake-proof. Perhaps her certainty in their unswerving support was making this change in her life easy. Well, easier.

She spent too much time thinking about it to make it easy.

The news stories went into detail about items such as child custody cases, local legislation and updates on what fundamentalists were doing in other states to restrict gay civil rights. She found the last type of story the scariest news she'd read in a long time. Didn't these people have better things to do with their time than worry about whom their neighbor was sleeping with?