Chapter Eight. I didn't remember how I fell asleep

I didn't remember how I fell asleep. I'll always remember how I woke up, though, which was throwing up everything I'd eaten for the last five years.

I don't recall ever being that sick from alcohol, but then again, I'd never downed a fifth of rum over the course of several hours. The first third of the bottle had turned me into the sex goddess of all time, and I'd sprawled across the bed in all my naked glory, seducing and satisfying one woman after another, and not always one at a time.

Somewhere in the middle third of the bottle I had solved the national debt, cured homophobia, and had Tess on my lap, promising to be mine.

The problem with my alcohol-induced brilliance was that the last third of the bottle had obliterated it all. I had kept drinking because I could feel every time he'd hit me.

"You were born stupid... you'll never get it... Don't think, you'll just screw it up... You might run fast but you can't catch worth shit... No man will ever want you for more than an hour... You're useless... Tramp... worthless... pervert."

Every memory of his voice played over in my mind and I toasted it, over and over, until the only thing I could say for certain was that I had outlived him. Of course in the morning, whether I'd outlive him for long seemed uncertain.

Worshipping the porcelain god for several hours did not do my soul a bit of good. It wasn't sexy, it wasn't smart. It wasn't a rite of passage, even. Just because I felt misunderstood didn't make me a rock star.

I was a pretty ordinary girl from an unremarkable place. I had an outrageous name, I loved women, and when I asked my legs to run ten miles, they would. Nothing all that rare in me, and I didn't know what I could possibly offer to Tess. What had Celine Griffin seen in me beyond a great time in bed? I wasn't sure there was anything more to me than that.

When I finally checked out, a little after eleven, I got in my warm car and went to sleep, never leaving the motel parking lot.

The dashboard clock was broken, I decided. It had to be. It couldn't be five o'clock and I couldn't still be in Springfield, Virginia, possible home of the Simpsons—that is, if they had Southern accents.

Food was necessary, but I made a wise choice to go to a mall I'd passed just off the freeway. Soup and bread went down. After a few anxious moments, it thankfully stayed down.

What had possessed me to drink my way to oblivion? So you're pissed at your father, Brandy. Hurt him—that was now impossible. But hurting myself wasn't the next best thing. He won if I lost, and I was damned if I'd give him the satisfaction.

Maybe I was useless as the son he wished he'd had, but I was a woman, and I had use for myself. I touched the envelope of cash in my handbag and felt the warming comfort of knowing my life brushed against others' and we were better for it. I'd not heard anyone at the funeral say, "I'm a better person for Wally Monsoon being in my life."

If I succeeded at nothing else, it would be that. They would carve on my tombstone, "Life wouldn't have been nearly as good without her." It wasn't much of an aspiration but it was achievable. It was more than a great many people, it seemed to me, had ever managed. If I wasn't going to cure cancer or broker world peace, I could do far worse than being a good friend to as many people as possible.

I wanted Tess... she would understand all that I was thinking. She'd help me make even more sense of it. If Tess could understand how I was feeling then I'd know for sure I was figuring things out. Such a mix of anger and resolve and hurt and chagrin and... hope? Was that hope I felt? About what?

Almost feeling like a human being, I hit the road with every intention of driving nonstop all the way home. But within a few hours my vision was swimming and my temples were throbbing and I had to find another place to sleep. Florence, South Carolina, was a place I'd always wanted to visit, I told myself. Right. It was good-bye Thursday within moments of putting my spinning head onto the pillow.

I usually don't dream that I remember, so when I woke up Friday morning, I wasn't disappointed. My vision still felt like I was tracking slow. Inversions during any kind of stretching were out of the question, but I was going to live.

The nightstand clock said seven a.m. I visualized the map in the car and a slow smile crossed my face. If I left now I'd still make Celine Griffin's show. I'd missed out on Circus Night, my one early morning on the greens, admiring and flirting with dykes for several days, and—worst of all as my stomach growled—French oatmeal on Friday mornings, with vanilla sugar and dried diced mango.

Okay, so I couldn't do anything that put my head below my heart, but I lost myself in the gentle rhythm of unchallenging yoga. My right thigh told me it didn't want to do forward bends, but I coaxed it, relaxed, and let go.

I was letting go of other things, I could feel that. Sunrise, a new day, a new phase in life. Tonight I was going to see the woman I loved and the thought of that was the best drug I'd ever had. I didn't know if I'd have the courage to muddle my way through explaining all that I wanted. I hoped when I got there that I would know what to do.

Unlike the drive up, I was intensely aware of the landscape outside the car's confines. The rolling green woods gave up flocks of birds to the morning air. A smoky mist lifted from cotton fields nestled in the embrace of hills. The sky lightened with the passing hours until the blue was dusted over with tiny white puffs of cloud.

I left the rolling hills of the Carolinas to glide into the slow, easy landscape of Georgia. Nearing the Florida border I picked up some fruit and crackers in a minimarket where I also got gas, then followed the signs to a parking area overlooking a large waterfowl sanctuary.

The overlook didn't seem promising, but a lush, rolling beauty took my breath away. The wetlands were lovely. I wanted Tess to see the flock of glistening gulls, so white against the sky it hurt my eyes.

Was this what it would be like? The rest of my life, wishing she was there to share so much more than sex with me?

I know she liked me, but could she love me? Or would she be like Susan Porkland, and like the sex but go for a man when it was time to be real about life?

I wasn't going to be able to sleep, to breathe even, until I knew how she felt. I had laughed at people in movies and books who dithered about love and couldn't make a cup of tea because love was so painful and wonderful. So I had to laugh at myself. All I could do right now was point the car south and think about her.

I couldn't even see past the moment when I asked her how she felt. I wouldn't be alive until I had her answer.

I knew I was back in Florida when no music I brought with me was loud enough to compensate for the seemingly unchanging landscape. It was a relief to reach the strip malls of Orlando and drive by the Mickey Ears on 1-4. I would get home by dinner. I'd have one last evening with all those great women, none of whom hated themselves for what they were. Most of whom were busy being grown-up and real. They made their families in their own image, and I wanted to be a lesbian with them. I wanted to feel normal again, what was normal for me.

I was in time to find the raisin nut cake still warm at the buffet. I'd parked the car and come directly to dinner, my stomach a growling knot. My arms and legs were trembling ever so slightly, from all the sitting and vibration, I thought. Several staff members welcomed me back, and I kept my eyes open for Tess.

Smoked salmon was wonderful on a bed of spring greens. The diner meal had been comforting, but this was home. Being away made me appreciate my good fortune to like my work and coworkers, and be in a position to decide if this week's smoked salmon was as good as last week's. I was welcomed at the table where other staffers were dining and assured everyone I was doing fine, as was my family. Why give them a downer at dinner?

There was no sign of Tess, however, but it was after seven and we always tended to eat earlier in the evening. Perhaps she was dressing up for a date. I did not want to think she was... otherwise occupied.

I was headed for the parking lot and my suitcase when I heard Celine calling my name. We exchanged a firm hug.

"Shouldn't you be sequestered away with preshow jitters or something?"

"Nah, I don't do that, though I will disappear for fifteen minutes or so. How was your trip?" Her yellow-ringed blue eyes searched mine.

"What I expected, mostly. I was there long enough to remember all the reasons I left. So I came back." Our arms were still around each other and I sighed into another embrace. It felt good to be held.

"I didn't think I'd see you again, and that would have been a shame."

"I wanted to see your show," I said, which was the truth. It just wasn't the only reason I had tried to make it back tonight. "I've been a big fan for a really long time."

She squinted one eye shut and gave me a sheepish look. "Don't go all fan on me. It was too real. If you were with me because I'm famous it'll break my heart."

I shook my head. "I was with you because you're sexy, appealing and smart. The second time because you're sexy, appealing, smart and a powerful, wonderful lover."

She cupped my face with a hand I remembered all too well on other parts of my body. Softly, she asked, "What about tonight?"

"I... I'm hoping to spend some time with my best friend."

"The blonde? Tess?"

"Yeah. I hope we can talk about a broader definition of best friend, actually."

"Oh, as in...?" She gazed at me a moment, then said, "Still looking for forever?"

"I don't know if I'll find it. But looking could be a lot of fun."

She pulled me close for a moment. "If you ever go out looking in the wide world again, drop by. It's the damnedest thing that as soon as you left I kept thinking we never got a chance to talk about anything, and I think I would have liked that."

I shrugged and rested my head on her shoulder. The sticky night air didn't mask her intriguing cologne. "I think I would have, too. Let's agree to be wistful and say things like, 'We'll always have Florida.' "

She laughed as she let go of me. "Wistful. Yeah, it's how I'll remember you, Brandy Monsoon."

"You should go get ready, I think." I grinned at her as she took several side steps in the direction of her room.

"You're right. See you later, I hope."

"Break a leg," I called lightly.

"Brandy?" She was now on the other side of the reception area walkway. "I'll also remember your great ass."

I laughed and didn't mind that several people obviously overheard. I retrieved my suitcase and rolled it happily to my quarters.

From the moment I unlocked the door I knew something was different. The aroma was different—pine-scented cleanser, very faint. Once I was all the way in I realized I wasn't smelling my laundry pile or the ubiquitous musty mildew aroma of damp corners. Tess had done my laundry and scrubbed down the kitchen. The bed was made and turned down. It even looked like there might be clean sheets.

What a sweet thing to do, I mused. It was so... her.

Leaving my suitcase to be unpacked later, I quickly rinsed off in the shower and reached for the little black dress I saved for special occasions. I added the high-cut lace panties that I hoped Tess would enjoy taking off of me later. That is, if I could convince her to come back to bed with me, if I found the courage to tell her how I felt and if she, well, liked hearing that.

My hair pulled back into a glittering hair tie Tess had given me for Christmas, I slipped into slinky black ballet flats and headed out the door.

Tess wasn't in the dining room or bar, nor did I spot her in the slow-moving crowd heading for the performance. It was chaotic in Village Square, with little people dashing about in face paint. I spotted Bleachie, but Tess wasn't anywhere near, which was a relief. I didn't think Tess would forgo the entertainment, so I slipped my way through the crowd to look inside.

The lights dimmed by half just as I took stock of the room. Tess wasn't immediately in sight, but she had to be there somewhere.

Moika was taking a seat near the back. I got her attention with a hand on her shoulder. "Have you seen Tess?"

"You're back!" She hopped up to hug me. "Yes, she was here a bit ago. Your family is well?"

"As well as can be expected," I answered noncommittally. The lights dropped another half. "Oh, darn it, they're starting."

"Maybe she's backstage," Moika suggested helpfully.

Of course, I thought. I excused myself and hurried along the side wall to the stage door. No way was I going up the center stage stairs in this outfit. Half the audience would see my ass, and I only wanted one woman admiring it tonight.

Maneuvering my way to the wings I caught sight of a tousle of blonde hair. I paused, overcome with shyness. After a minute I managed a few little steps, hoping that Tess would finish what she was doing and turn around.

Randall began his announcements and usual stage patter.

Celine abruptly clattered up the stairs behind me. Before I could say a word, she let out a wolf whistle and pulled me into an embrace. "You could kill with that dress."

I was acutely aware that Tess had to have heard and was probably looking at us now. "You could kill with those jeans," I replied in kind, trying to extricate myself before Tess reached us.

"Thanks, darlin'. I meant what I said about your ass."

Blushing, I laughed. "Randall is just about to introduce you."

"Be down front for me?" She leaned into me for a smooch on the lips.

"In a bit, I think."

"And now the woman you've been waiting all week for," Randall boomed, "Celine Griffin!"

Celine closed her eyes, whispered something to herself, then whisked onstage with a brilliant smile.

I stared at Tess, not a word in my head that I could even articulate. She looked... great. Smelled great. She was wearing a clinging aqua jumpsuit that I knew from personal experience unzipped all the way down to her crotch. It clung to parts of her so suggestively that I wasn't sure she was wearing a stitch underneath it. Finally, I found my voice and produced a quiet, "Hi."

"I'm glad you're back safe," she said. "I thought you might make it back for tonight, though." Then she hugged me, hugged me the way Aunt Dot had hugged me, barely touching.

Celine's first comment drew a laugh.

"Thank you for everything you did at my place."

She shrugged. "When I woke up it seemed the least I could do. I had my own laundry."

"You changed the sheets."

She flushed and looked away. "I'm sure that will be welcome this evening."

"Yeah. After motels..."

Tess said something, but it was drowned out by another burst of laughter. In the following lull she said, "You're missing the show."

"I know." I let my eyes drink her in. She seemed distant, and I didn't know what to make of it. "Aren't you going to see it?"

"Sure. A couple of women invited me to sit with them."

"Oh. Okay."

Tess walked toward the stage door stairs.

"Tess? What's wrong?"

She turned briefly to face me. "Nothing," she lied, with a big fake smile on her face. "Be safe."

Stung by her unwillingness to talk about whatever was bothering her, I said, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Or anyone?"

What the heck had that meant?

I followed her into the audience and she sat down alongside someone I didn't know, but then again, I'd missed most of the chances to mingle with the ladies. I also found a seat. Paying attention to Celine was difficult, even though, judging by the howls of laughter, she was at the top of her form. When she came down the main stairs into the audience, it was easier to forget that Tess was sitting a few rows back.

"All you grownups come back later for another set, just for the over-eighteen crowd, if you follow, but I thought what I'd do now is ask some questions." She paused next to two women, each with a small child on her lap. Carefully, she got the nearest child to answer a few questions about his age and his moms' names.

"What does Mommy Bet do to make money? What's her job?"

From where I sat I saw the mother in question put her face in her hand as if she dreaded the answer.

The clear, piping voice answered, "She rents U-Hauls."

After the laughter died down, Celine said, "Never work with kids. They upstage you every time. What does Mommy Nina do?"

"She's a therapist."

"That's what I like," Celine quipped, "the convenience of one-stop shopping. Rent the U-Haul, proceed directly to therapy."

I laughed as heartily as anyone, but I still wasn't losing myself in the performance. I would have told anyone that one of my dreams was to see Celine Griffin live and all I could think about was Tess's being upset with me. I was bemused and distracted. Lovelorn, sunstruck, moonstruck, you name it. I thought about the night I left, how she had kissed me like a lover. Kissed me like she wanted to do it for hours. I wasn't living in a fantasy world; she had wanted me.

When Celine moved to the other side of the room I snuck over to the side aisle and slowly moved up a few rows.

"Tess," I hissed.

The woman nearest me gave me an irritated look.

"Tess!"

Tess turned her head in disbelief. I beckoned. She rolled her eyes. I beckoned again.

"I'm sorry," she muttered as she stepped over the irritated woman. "What?"

"Shh!" The irritated woman vented her annoyance. I took Tess by the arm, leading her to the back of the room, then into the deserted foyer beyond the rear doors.

Tess was looking at me as if I'd lost my mind. "What's wrong?"

"That's what I want to know. What's wrong? Why are you mad at me?"

"I'm not mad at you, Brandy. It's like being mad at the ocean for washing up too high on the sand."

I tried to work my way through that but got nowhere. "Something is wrong, though."

"I thought you wanted to see the show."

"I do, but not if you're upset with me." I wanted to say that she mattered too much for me to assume that later was good enough to talk to her. I wanted to ask her to kiss me again.

"I'm not upset with you."

"Then with something."

"This is pointless, Brandy. I would like to see the show, too. Now I know why you had her picture."

I flushed. "You remembered."

She nodded. "It's okay."

"I don't have a crush on her."

"I know." Her eyes were filled with sadness. "Randall got Barbados."

I blinked. "He did?"

"Yeah. He wants to take some of the fitness staff with him."

"Oh."

We stared at each other. I had no idea what she was thinking. Was she going to apply for it? Was there room for two, or did she want to get away from me? We'd made love, and that had been too much?

"So," she finally said. "That's that."

I didn't understand what she meant, and my mouth had disconnected from my brain. There were a million words spinning in my mind but not one would join with another to make any sense.

A burst of laughter startled us both. "I really would like to see the show," Tess said. Say something, my mind wailed. She shrugged. "Okay then."

"Did you read the note I left?"

"Yeah." She turned to the door. "I obviously didn't get it." She was gone before I could even voice my confusion. I didn't understand.

What's a girl to do? I escaped to the nearest ladies' room, where the mirror told me the dress looked great and the panties were visible enough to be criminal. Tess hadn't wanted me in this package. She hadn't seemed to even want to talk. I was a dumbshit. I couldn't be happy with her wonderful, supporting friendship. No, I had to want more.

Instead, I was losing both. Madeline had broken my heart in college, and it had hurt, but it hadn't felt like this. I'd been upset and angry, devastated even. But I'd accepted that of course I would survive it, because one survived such blows and went on to write bad poetry about it. Adversity built character, didn't it?

I looked at my frozen, pale face in the mirror, remembering that I had wished for what I felt inside—loving Tess, loving women—to show on the outside. It seemed like it showed tonight. I didn't recognize my mouth or the stricken look in my eyes.

I had stood there and said nothing. Our conversation had made no sense at all, and I had done nothing to change that. I stepped back and flexed my biceps. I was good with my body, but at words I sucked. I hadn't always been able to lift double my weight, however. It had taken practice, patience and fortitude. I didn't finish the first three marathons I started, but I did the fourth.

So, if Tess was worth having—and she was, I wanted to wail—I would have to work harder. I would have to try again.

I looked at myself in the mirror and said aloud, "I don't understand. Could you say that another way?" Right, I could be that calm. Sure.

Okay, fine, I told myself. What you're doing isn't working, so you have to change if you want her. Wrapping yourself up in a cute package is not the same as saying loud and clear, "I want to be with you. I want to walk a road with you, and see how long it goes."

Tomorrow, I thought.

I was fragile and frazzled. Tomorrow I would talk to Tess. Tomorrow I wouldn't be so afraid as to ask what opportunities in Barbados meant to her. I would try again tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that.

The crowd was stomping and laughing when I headed for my quarters and bed. I was missing a live Celine Griffin performance, but maybe it wasn't so bad that I recognized what mattered more to me.

Поиск по сайту: