Screaming Divas Part 15

"I think you'd get sick of me," she mumbled now.

"Sick of you?" Rebecca set down her drink and crossed the room to kneel at Esther's feet. "You silly goose," she said, smoothing back a strand of hair. "I love you. I'd never get sick of you."

Esther didn't respond. She didn't know how to begin to talk about her feelings. It was already too late. She'd been pretending all this time that everything was wonderful, that her old self was a loathsome stranger.

"And another thing," Rebecca said, moving away again. "I'd like you to tell your parents about us."

Tell them what, exactly? Once in a while she let Rebecca kiss her, but she wasn't ready to take things to the next level. So far, Rebecca had been understanding. Was this a sign that her patience was running out?

At any rate, she wasn't about to tell her mom and dad that she was gay.

"Darling, you're living a lie," Rebecca went on. "And so are your parents. You must tell them at some point."

Rebecca was right. Eventually, Esther needed to have a talk with her family. Otherwise, the lies would separate them forever. But there was so much else going on in her life at the moment that she couldn't deal with one more crisis. She'd have to come out in her own time.

"Rebecca, I'm sorry, but I need to take everything slowly," she said. "Please don't push."

Rebecca wrapped her arms around her midsection as if she were suddenly chilled. "Sometimes I'm afraid that I'm going to lose you," she said. Her voice was strangely hollow.

"No, never," Esther said, but even as the words left her mouth, she knew that she was lying.

There was no way Esther could tell Rebecca what she'd done. It had been totally spontaneous, almost an accident; if she'd given it any thought at all, she wouldn't have had the guts to invite Ca.s.sie home for Christmas.

The divas had been jamming in Trudy's living room a week before Christmas. Just for fun, they were singing "Jingle Bells" and "Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer," and other songs that they would never perform in public.

"So do we get a Christmas vacation?" Ca.s.sie had asked when they paused for a break. "Or do you expect us here on a holiday?"

"Why?" Trudy asked. "Do you have big plans?"

Ca.s.sie shrugged. "Not really. My dad's taking Johnette on a cruise and leaving me to fend for myself."

And that's when Esther had said, "You can come to our house. My mom loves having lots of people around at Christmas." It had just come out, like a sneeze.

Everyone in the room had looked at her strangely. Everyone, that is, except for Ca.s.sie, who'd smiled and said, "Sure, I'd love to." And then Trudy and Harumi had stared at Ca.s.sie. She and Esther rarely spoke during band practice and it wasn't as if they were buddies or anything. And they probably wondered about Rebecca.

Rebecca's idea for Christmas had been a cabin in the mountains, maybe a little bed and breakfast, but Esther had explained that her family would never forgive her if she went away. And then, of course, she had pushed for an invitation. "I'll bring English Christmas pudding. Your parents will love me."

Somehow, Esther wasn't so sure her mother and father would know what to do with her. Rebecca would strike them as some rare bird that needed special feeding. They'd be intimidated by her clothes and hair and accent. It would be too awkward.

"We'll go out the day after Christmas," Esther had promised. "I'll even treat you."

When she told her mother that Ca.s.sie was coming, Mrs. Shealy was thrilled. "I'm so glad you're making new friends," she said. "And how awful that Ca.s.sie's father would go off and leave her alone at Christmas, of all times!"

Esther's mother knew a little about Ca.s.sie's father. He was a prominent member of the community and, with his conspicuously young wife, a source of over-the-fence gossip. She even remembered the car crash that had taken Ca.s.sie's mother's life.

"You know, she was a looker. She was runner up to Miss South Carolina years ago. I saw her on TV." Esther's mother clucked. "But then she got started up with drinking. Some people said she was suicidal, said she couldn't stand losing her looks."

On Christmas Eve, Mrs. Shealy welcomed Ca.s.sie at the door with a hug.

"We're so glad you could join us," she cooed. She helped Ca.s.sie out of her pea coat and threw her hands up in surprise when Ca.s.sie handed her a package.

"A little something for under your tree," Ca.s.sie said.

Mrs. Shealy took the brightly wrapped parcel with one hand and guided Ca.s.sie deeper into the house with the other. "We've got a crowd here-Esther's grandparents and my sister and her family. I hope you won't mind sleeping with Esther."

How could she say such a thing! Esther's face turned crimson. "I'll sleep on the floor," she said quickly. "I have a sleeping bag."

"You promised to lend your sleeping bag to Cousin Bobby," Esther's mom said.

The turkey was already in the roaster and the house was starting to smell like a holiday dinner. Logs crackled in the fireplace. Esther trailed behind as Ca.s.sie took it all in-the stockings, Bing Crosby on the stereo, gla.s.s plates of fudge and peanut brittle.

Esther introduced Ca.s.sie to her relatives. She didn't tell her grandparents that they were in a punk rock band together. Esther noticed that they were all careful not to ask about Ca.s.sie's family.

Later that night, when everyone started trundling off to bed, Esther felt a rising panic. She wanted to stay up and watch TV in the living room, but one of her cousins was going to be sleeping on the sofa. They had no choice but to go to her room.

Esther sat down in the wicker chair in the corner. Ca.s.sie threw herself across the double bed.

"This must be kind of boring for you. Playing Monopoly with my cousins and everything ...."

"No, not at all," Ca.s.sie said. "It's better than being around my relatives. They all drink too much and start talking about Mama. It's horrid."

They were silent for a moment, the ghost of Ca.s.sie's mom hovering between them. Esther wasn't sure if she should say something about the accident or not. "What do you think Trudy's doing today?" she asked instead. She wondered why Ca.s.sie hadn't opted to spend the holiday with the lead diva. The two seemed so close.

Ca.s.sie grimaced. "Probably stalking Noel." And then, a couple of beats later, she asked, "So what's the deal with you and Rebecca?"

Esther froze. "What do you mean? Did Harumi say something?"

Ca.s.sie looked confused. "What? Harumi? No, I just wondered. I mean, obviously there's something going on between you two."

Esther could feel her face fill with warmth. Was it really so obvious? Did she have no secrets?

"It's no big deal," Ca.s.sie said, with a shrug. "If you don't want to talk about it, fine." She turned away and started thumbing through the record alb.u.ms lined up on the bottom shelf of Esther's bookcase.

Esther took a deep breath. Ca.s.sie was her friend now. They were supposed to trust each other, to share secrets. "Yeah," she said, her voice breaking a little. "I guess we're involved. How could you tell?"

Ca.s.sie turned to face her, and hugged her knees. "Well, there's the way she looks at you, like she's ready to devour you. And the way you look at her, like you're nervous or scared or something."

Esther said nothing. She was ashamed of her fear, but she couldn't say why.

"So how do you feel about her?"

How did she feel? "Well, she's gorgeous, obviously. And smart, and she has that great London accent." Esther paused. "I wonder what she sees in me? She could have anybody."

"Maybe you're her type," Ca.s.sie said. "But you haven't really answered my question. Do you love her?"

Love? Esther tried to conjure a moment when she'd felt something like love. She admired Rebecca, yes. She was flattered by her attention. She'd even liked kissing her, but love? "I feel like I should love her," Esther said, finally. "I don't have a lot of people to choose from. Because I'm not, well, attracted to boys. So maybe this is my only chance to have someone. A partner."

Ca.s.sie rolled her eyes. "Do you really believe that? You shouldn't be with her unless you really care about her. It's not fair to either of you. And believe me, there are other people out there for you."

Everything that Ca.s.sie said made sense, but she didn't want to think about that right now. Maybe they could talk about Ca.s.sie's love life. It was her turn to spill.

"So what about you?" she asked.

"What about me?"

"There were rumors going around about you at school. You and Todd Elsworth." She didn't mention all the others-half the football team, plus one or two of the younger, better-looking male teachers, like Mr. Simpson, who taught science.

"We never even kissed."

The surprise must have shown on Esther's face. Her reaction quickly changed to embarra.s.sment. Why had she believed all that talk, anyway? Ca.s.sie and two guys at once in the janitor's closet. Ca.s.sie with the cla.s.s dopehead under the bleachers. Ca.s.sie, flashing the boys in Special Ed, just to get them worked up.

"I've never hooked up with anyone from school," Ca.s.sie said, "but I'm not a virgin. In case you were wondering."

Esther considered asking about Adam, but she didn't really want to hear about him. She would enjoy this night, having Ca.s.sie all to herself. It would probably never happen again.

"If you want, we can stay up for a while. Listen to music, or something."

"Actually, I'm pretty tired. Why don't we just turn in?"

Esther nodded. She got up and reached under her pillow for her yellow flannel pajamas. She turned away to lower her jeans and pull off her sweater. She wondered if Ca.s.sie was watching, but she didn't dare look behind her. When she had changed, she turned to find Ca.s.sie already snuggled beneath the covers. Her eyes were closed. Taking a deep breath, Esther climbed in beside her. She was careful not to touch Ca.s.sie, but she could feel the heat of her body under the blankets.

"Good night," she whispered.

"G'night."

Esther lay rigid, her heart battering her rib cage. There was no way she would be able to sleep. This was what she had dreamed about for years, but the dream come true was terrifying. Maybe it would be better to grab a blanket and make a nest in the hallway, she thought, but she didn't move. She lay there listening to Ca.s.sie's breathing, listening until it became deep and even. Then she rolled slowly onto her side.

There was just enough moonlight coming through the slit in the curtains for Esther to make out Ca.s.sie's face. Her golden hair was splayed on the pillow. The ironic set of her mouth had softened into an angel's kiss. In the dark, her scar was invisible.

Esther held her breath and reached a hand toward Ca.s.sie's pillow. With one finger, she stroked a lock of hair. It was soft as corn silk.

Suddenly, Ca.s.sie's eyes popped open and she laughed.

Esther drew back her hand.

"You thought I was asleep, didn't you?"

Esther buried her face in her own pillow. "I'm sorry. Your hair looked so soft. Not like mine, all wiry and wild."

Esther felt a hand on the back of her neck. Ca.s.sie's fingers worked their way up her nape, into the thick tangle of curls. "I'd love to have hair like this," she said.

Then Ca.s.sie was moving on top of her, and Esther felt her breath on the back of her neck, then lips. "If you want me to stop, just say so," Ca.s.sie whispered.

Esther felt fever spreading through her body. She wanted to roll over and touch Ca.s.sie, but she didn't dare. She held herself still as Ca.s.sie's fingers sneaked up her pajama top and traveled her bare back. She stayed on her stomach until Ca.s.sie moved off of her and nudged her onto her back.

When Ca.s.sie straddled her, Esther saw that she was naked. Her skin was glowing in the moonlight. As Ca.s.sie leaned down and began unb.u.t.toning her top, Esther rose to kiss her.

33.

Trudy was riding a city bus, trying not to inhale. The pa.s.senger next to her smelled of sweat and garlic. Someone had let out a fart.

She was trying not to listen, either. She was doing her best to tune out the endless nattering of the woman behind her. It wasn't that hard. Trudy had a radio in her head, and whenever she wanted, she could turn up the volume. Right now, Diana Ross and the Supremes were singing about living in shame and missing Mama. It was one of their older songs, recorded after Flo was gone and just before Diana set out on her own. Before things started to go downhill.

She was a little scornful of Diana for deserting the group. She'd never do that to her girls. And they'd never be Trudy Sin and the Screaming Divas. It sounded stupid, anyway.

She fingered the stuffing coming out of the ripped vinyl seat in front of her, then turned her attention to the scenery outside. They were pa.s.sing through a neighborhood of one-story brick houses with neat lawns, many adorned with garlands of colored lights or pine branches.

Sometimes, when she found herself alone, she'd go out walking around. As she pa.s.sed each house, she'd make up a little story about the people who lived there. She could sometimes see them through the windows, especially at night when the houses were lit up and she was covered by the dark. They'd be watching TV, or having dinner, or reading the newspaper.

Once she saw a mother and daughter dancing together. A waltz, it looked like. Maybe the woman was trying to teach her something. Trudy stood on the sidewalk watching until they missed a step and collapsed against each other in a fit of giggles. She and Sarah had never laughed like that together.

If only her mother had been a stay-at-home brownie baker-and she wasn't thinking of Amsterdam hash brownies-a one-man woman, someone who cared about what other people thought, even.

Instead, Trudy had gotten a mother who squeezed out babies and then played favorites. She wasn't really into the kids. She'd had her own agenda from day one. She'd wanted to rebel against her staid upbringing, the all-girls school, the white gloves and embossed stationery, "sir" and "ma'am." Trudy thought that she understood.

The bus wheezed to a halt and Trudy got off. She walked a couple of blocks under oaks and maples until she reached her destination. She stood at the foot of the driveway, unable to move any further, staring at her mother's house. It had been her house once, too, back before she'd gotten arrested.

She tried to guess at what was going on inside. Maybe Sarah was walloping Baby Ken, Trudy's latest baby brother, who must already be about two. Or maybe she was sitting on a pillow, meditating, trying not to think about all the sorry details of her life.

Sarah must have had big dreams at one time, something more than a series of loser husbands and this house in suburbia, but Trudy couldn't remember what they'd been.

She reached into her jeans pocket and felt the ca.s.sette-a tape of Supremes songs as covered by Screaming Divas. It wasn't studio quality; they didn't have that kind of money yet. But it would show Sarah that she'd been doing something with her life. That she was going to be somebody.

She took a deep breath and a step up the driveway. Then another, and another, till finally she was on the porch, at the door with her fingertip hovering over the glowing b.u.t.ton of a doorbell.

What if Sarah wouldn't let her in the house?

She closed her eyes and summoned up whistles and applause, the girls in the front row who copied her clothes. She was a Diva, d.a.m.n it, and nothing was going to get her down.

She pressed the doorbell.

She could hear the commotion inside-the blare of a TV, Ken's squalls, her mother's sharp voice. And then footsteps, a pause as someone looked through the peephole, followed by the jangle and clink of the chain lock. The door opened.

Sarah stood there, eyes narrowed, hip c.o.c.ked, cigarette held like a roach. She took a drag, studied her daughter. "You'd better not be in some kind of trouble again."

Trudy ignored her and held out the ca.s.sette. Now seemed as good a time as any to give it to her. "Merry Christmas," she said. "I made this for you."

Ash from Sarah's cigarette dropped to the floor, but she didn't seem to notice. She put the b.u.t.t in her mouth and squinted through the smoke as she examined the tape, turning it over and over in her hands.

Sarah looked older. It had been less than a year since they'd last met, but the crinkles that rayed out from her eyes were deeper. Her hair looked a little ratty and her roots were showing. Trudy wondered how her latest marriage was going, but she wasn't about to ask. She was still standing on the porch.