Out and Proud

by Lisa Young

  Not expecting a reply, Lottie headed straight for the kitchen, where she hastily unpacked her purchases from the local supermarket, which included a packet of ready-made salad and an oven-ready pizza.

  Setting the oven timer, she ran for the shower, only to find that the bathroom window was wide open, allowing in an icy blast which stopped her dead in her tracks. Leaning out to reach for the catch she paused to admire the spectacular view of the Pennan harbour, a view she could only truly appreciate from this vantage point. The sea rumbled endlessly on to meet the barely visible horizon, which was transforming before her eyes into a delicious pink hue with marshmallow-white puffs of cloud floating alongside the cliff tops. She smiled in appreciation and inhaled the distinctive smell of the sea, never failing to appreciate the beauty of her surroundings. Amongst the rocks she saw a regular visitor to the rock pools, a heron, who was systematically investigating the cool puddles hunting for a juicy morsel. The seagulls watched on, as the more daring members of their clan swooped and dived into the waves, successfully plucking out fish and returning to their cliff side homes.

  Reluctantly, she leaned forward to shut the window, but as she did so, she spotted a pile of cigarette ends in the guttering of the kitchenette below.

  Disappointed that Robbie was still smoking despite the extensive terrifying literature she had strategically strewn around the cottage, she bellowed for him. “Robbie!”

  A hooded figure appeared from the nearby bedroom, trousers barely covering his boxer shorts and one hand tucked snuggly into his crotch, “Uh?” he grunted in reply.

  Breathing deeply, Lottie spoke. “I’ve asked you to smoke outside. I would like you to collect the cigarette ends out of the gutter and put them in the bin where they should be. Stop bloody smoking!”

  Pulling out his earphones, he glared at her with barely disguised contempt. “For God’s sake, Mum, it wasn’t me!”

  Raising her eyebrows in disbelief she retorted quickly. “And who else might it have been then?”

  Tutting loudly, Robbie leaned precariously out of the window to scoop up the evidence of his just-legal addiction. “Seagulls nesting or summat?” he offered unhelpfully.

  Robbie threw the cigarette ends out of the window in the general direction of the bin. He tutted loudly once again, abandoned his unwelcome task, and returned to the darkened pit of his man cave.

  Just then the cooker buzzer sounded, and saved Lottie from the inevitably pointless confrontation. She headed downstairs to plate up that evening’s slightly crisped offerings, not forgetting to eat herself, as she needed to line her stomach.

  Passing cautiously through the utility room, home to Boots, the emotionally-challenged tomcat, she gingerly reached out, intending to rub the top of his head. Snatching her hand back in panic, she recalled in the nick of time that he only liked to be approached from the front. Surprising him with affection was not an option, despite the rigorous medical interventions Alice had made, to address his stress issues. Making a mental note to ask Alice if male cats could experience the menopause, Lottie returned to the kitchen and divided the pizza onto three plates.

  She entered the living room, precariously balancing two plates of pizza and salad with a can of fizzy orange, and approached the oblivious Archie, who was engrossed in the much-repeated Wizards of Waverly Place. Lottie gave an involuntary shudder and cringed as the American canned laughter bounced uncomfortably around the room.

  Her youngest son, Archie, looked up with his almond-shaped hazel eyes. She smiled as he rose to greet her, marvelling at his ability to grow almost two inches overnight. She noted that he was now in desperate need of new trousers, as they flapped around his ankles, hitched up at the waist in a Simon Cowell-type fashion. She noticed he was clutching an envelope, which he offered to her with one hand, as the other gratefully received the singed pizza. Smiling, she settled down to read the latest in what was a steady stream of written affirmations her youngest son had been keen to bestow upon her after she’d shared with her children that she was gay.

  As she sank into the worn sofa, she briefly recalled the differing reactions of her two children as she’d attempted to explain to them that she was now dating women. Robbie had been mildly disgusted, but had been able to explain that he had a very fit maths teacher and that he would be happy to put a good word in for her at the next parents’ evening. Much to her amusement, some hours later he’d returned to seek her out, and the two of them had sat together, sides touching on the outside bench.

  Robbie had offered his acceptance. “I don’t care if you’re gay, Mum, as long as you’re not going to fancy my girlfriends!” Coyly, he’d placed his arm briefly around her shoulder, giving her a playful pat before his hood was once again pulled up and he returned to furious typing on his phone. She smiled at the memory, rare though they were these days. A close moment with her eldest son left her with a sense of pride and awe at the man he was becoming.

  Archie had demonstrated his ever-present sensitivity and had stopped mid-prance in the living room as he practised dancing in her high heeled shoes. Practising for what, she didn’t quite know. Flinging his arms around her with complete abandon, he told her that he loved her, no matter what. This, although no surprise to Lottie, was nevertheless a heart-warming reminder of the kindness of this wee man.

  While opening the creased envelope, she noted the title of the page, Best Mum Ever! Reading on, she noted that Archie had catalogued her various positive attributes including the fact that she could play chess and always won. He noted that she also burned food, but that it always tasted good anyway. After listing her various friends and noting the difference between girls who were friends and girlfriends, he declared that being gay was okay and that no one was allowed to be mean to gay people, especially his own mum. Attempting to scoop him into her arms and failing, she instead chose to plant a kiss firmly on his lips, thanking him for the letter and promising to save it with the others. She hurriedly ate her pizza and headed for the delayed shower.

  As she came down the stairs, both boys tore their eyes away from their electronic babysitters to give her the once-over.

  She stepped into the room. “You look nice, Mum, but a bit gay,” Robbie said.

  Wondering briefly what gay actually looked like, and feeling ridiculously self-conscious, she tugged on her leather jacket and looked at Archie who beamed at her. “Wow!”

  After reminding Robbie of his babysitting responsibilities, she glanced guiltily around the sitting room, as the ironing pile called to her from the corner, reminding her of the jobs that never seemed to get done around the house. Never mind. Life’s too short, she thought, as she firmly shut the front door behind her.

  ARRIVING IN ABERDEEN an hour later, after paying the taxi driver, Lottie reluctantly entered the trendy city bar alone and perched uncomfortably on a stool while she waited for Mel. Aware of her friend’s poor time management, she anticipated more than a bit of a wait so she ordered herself an iced, mint laden delight, her old friend, the mojito. She self-consciously pulled down her top, avoiding the stares of the curious men around her, silently cursing her friend for being so determinedly straight. At least if you’re going to make me hang out with the male species be on time to be my wing woman, she inwardly admonished Mel.

  Following her confession to Mel about her attraction to women, Lottie recalled Mel’s initial shock. Though she was pleasantly surprised at how quickly this had passed, she felt that as time had gone on, Mel had lived a new life of exploring relationships with the female sex somewhat vicariously through Lottie. Not that Mel wanted to be gay, but the difference of it appealed to her adventurous nature. This had included a day at an Adopt a Cat event run by the local RSPCA. All lesbians have cats, she’d assured Lottie after she had spent nearly an entire Saturday in her pyjamas using search engines to learn the facts of lesbian life. That particular adventure had led to Lottie’s rash acquisition of Boots, who had seemed a beguiling tomcat, showing no sign
s of any mental disturbance.

  As Lottie sipped her mojito and checked her phone for the inevitable running late text, she was reminded of the unforgettable night that she’d had with Mel, which had turned out to be coming out day for Lottie, in a rather unconventional way.

  Having known one another since their school days, Mel and Lottie shared a friendship that had survived both their marriages. The various perils and pitfalls of post-divorce dating had cemented their bond, the only difference being that Mel was determinedly straight, and that Lottie had started to acknowledge one of the major contributing factors to her divorce was her own sexuality. Since Mel had been one of the few friends privy to Lottie’s secret, she had taken this responsibility very seriously and had taken it upon herself to support Lottie in entering into the gay world. This being, of course, a world that Mel knew absolutely nothing about. With the enthusiasm of an untrained puppy, she catapulted Lottie into an uncomfortable but amusing rollercoaster ride of internet dating sites, pubs, and events she found on search engines during her lunch break at the mobile phone shop where she worked.

  Smiling fondly, Lottie allowed herself to remember their first visit to the gay club scene of the granite-gray city of Aberdeen, where they had a mojito-fuelled night of dancing and exploration. In addition to discovering the delights of the mojito, the various highlights of that night—of which there were many—as Lottie recalled, was the kiss. In the dark and comforting environment of the dubiously named nightclub Laydee, and while severely intoxicated, Lottie had kissed a woman for the first time.

  The memory of that kiss was etched indelibly in Lottie’s memory, despite having had various experiences since then, and not negating the most perfect of kisses with Alice on their first date. Lottie remembered a slow motion walk across the crowded dance floor, as feeling brave and alive, she had walked towards the smiling invitation of the woman in the white dress. As the stranger took her hand, she had placed a finger under Lottie’s chin and tilted it slightly before gently touching her lips to Lottie’s. Lottie had shuddered with a ripple of excitement as she remembered the electricity that had passed through her in that brief encounter before they’d smiled and parted ways.

  Her first lesbian kiss!

  She remembered Mel’s look of pure ecstasy, as she clearly felt entirely responsible for successful mission of meet woman, kiss woman. Lottie later described it to Virginia as a moment where, in the world of the club, completely accepted for who she was, the kiss had somehow determined her future.

  The evening had progressed and she had made a somewhat drunken but determined resolution to share her news with people, and she recalled an alcohol-fuelled haze of happiness. They had resolved to celebrate with a few more cocktails, which had been on special offer, at five for ten.

  Arriving home later that night with Mel, Lottie had begrudgingly paid the second taxi fare of the evening. Although she loved the remote location of her home, it certainly had its disadvantages when she wanted to spend some time in the city.

  Cackling hysterically, between them they had somehow made it to Lottie’s back door and after several efforts to locate the keyhole, Mel had confidently clambered up the steps and through the door, tripping and entering the kitchen in a not dissimilar way to the taxi exit performed by Lottie.

  “Fuuuuck!” she screeched as she’d fallen head-first into the used cat litter tray at the far side of the kitchen.

  Lottie had left it there in the hope that Robbie would clean it out.

  Concerned for her friend, Lottie had dashed unsteadily forward as Mel lifted her head with some effort and grinned inanely in her direction. Collapsing against the fridge, Mel had hiccupped loudly. “What a fucking amazing night!”

  LOTTIE SMILED AT the memory as she ordered a second drink. She cradled it, turning towards the door to look for her friend. She gave way to an involuntary shudder as she relived what had followed next. While the consequences remained emblazoned on her memory, the details of the actual events that transpired were thankfully little more than sketchy.

  What she did recall was that she and Mel had logged onto her Facebook account, as they had both had a burning urge to share with their community the pictorial evidence of their most fabulous night out. Downloading pictures of the various drinks and locations of their rampage through the city, Lottie seemed to remember that pictures were almost always more interesting when they had a caption so she typed:

  I kissed a girl and I liked it—as in the song!

  Late morning of that same day, she had made her way gingerly along the landing, side-stepping the trail of dried cat litter while trying to breathe through her mouth so as not to tempt her delicate gag reflex. Deep in the recesses of her brain she was aware of a steady throb indicating the oncoming hangover and a vague recollection of Facebook antics. She peered into the spare room but saw only a mound of empty duvet. She headed downstairs to the computer.

  Logging on with trepidation, her worst fears were confirmed as she scrolled down and read the forty-three comments on her captioned photo. She recalled with increasing horror, that the photograph she had posted had been her and Mel giving their best pout to the camera while at an undisclosed location.

  Those less hungover had logged on to the news, and assumed that the woman Lottie had kissed was, in fact, Mel. Not unreasonable she thought, given the picture and the caption.

  Reading down, her dread increased as she saw other comments.

  Bob, friend-of-a-friend: Can I watch? Virginia: I like kissing girls, too!

  With undisguised horror Lottie found comments from her family members, clearly unimpressed with her revelation.

  Tony, her brother-in-law: Really Lottie! Did you actually kiss a girl for real?

  Amanda, her sister: Does this mean I have to embrace diversity?

  “Oh shit!” Lottie had cringed.

  Lastly, but by no means least, Mel, at some time—during which Lottie had clearly lost consciousness—had logged on and posted.

  The girl in the white dress, God, Lottie, she was well fit and what a kiss! Amazing night, welcome to the world of gay!

  “Triple fuck!” Lottie had groaned aloud. No going back now. Thanks, Mel.

  She had decided to ignore the ramifications of that night, and was brought back to the present by the ping of her phone, and a welcome text from Alice.

  Have an amazing time, but stay away from girls in white dresses!

  Smiling, Lottie popped her phone back in her bag as Mel arrived, planting a smacker on her cheek, and gulping down the waiting mojito.

  “Let’s get this party started!” she said.

  Pru’s Group

  THE NEXT MORNING, Lottie woke to the repetitive patter of rain on her bedroom window. She stole a glance at the clock and groaned inwardly as she realised that a considerable part of her Saturday had been lost to a post-hangover lie-in.

  Remembering that Mel had made it as far as the living room carpet, she rose unsteadily and peeled the pillowcase from her face. Heading downstairs, she remembered, thankfully, that the boys had texted her during the previous evening saying they were headed for an impromptu sleepover at their father’s house. The peace of her cosy living space helped to soothe her aching brain.

  On the kitchen worktop she discovered a note:

  Amazing night. Lunch in the week? Mel xx

  Feeling slightly relieved that she didn’t have to face any chatter, or autopsy their night out, Lottie robotically went through the motions of making a cup of coffee that she didn’t have the stomach to drink, before she logged on to check her emails.

  In the anticipation of a weekend night out with her friend, Lottie had managed to temporarily banish all thoughts of her ongoing dilemma regarding the strap-on incident. She remembered the earlier message she had posted to Pru’s noticeboard asking for advice and noticed a new mail message in the corner of her screen, indicating a response. Logging into her e-mail account, Lottie was pleased to see that it wa
s Pru herself who had responded to her personal e-mail, and she imagined Dear Pru’s distaste at her message containing such personal information on a public forum.

  Dear Charlotte.

  This wasn’t actually her name but Pru had apparently assumed that Lottie was a crudely shortened version of Charlotte, and Lottie hadn’t bothered to correct her.

  I really am feeling a little frustrated with you at this point. I did tell you in my previous correspondence that lesbians do not appreciate new lesbians being so upfront about their lack of experience. Being a long-term lesbian, I feel you need to hear this. All this does, my dear, is remind us that you were once in the heterosexual world. Really, why would you want us to remember this? I do urge caution in your constant quest for honesty. Let sleeping dogs lie! I am a real lesbian and I find it somewhat incredulous that you younger lot feel the need to enter one another with a plastic implement, it just seems so heterosexual. But, whatever the case, my dear, I really do feel you may need some more specific support during this seemingly difficult period of your life.

  As you know I’m a counsellor of many years and I practise Reiki healing, amongst other specialist therapies. In case you didn’t read my home page, you should be aware that I work with spiritual guides to take people through their issues and help them to heal with the benefit of nature. It’s very powerful, dear, very powerful! People simply rave about my tambourine techniques which I’ve been told is something unique to experience. Anyway, I’m inviting you to pop along to my support group. It’s on Thursdays in Longbottom Row Village Hall, Fraserburgh, seven p.m. sharp! Please bring a contribution to the refreshments. We do ask people bring food that doesn’t compromise anyone who may be wheat, meat, nut, or sugar intolerant. Oh, I should say that every week we have an expression-through-therapy theme and this week we’re all going to bring a piece of writing or a poem that we’ve written. It’s always jolly good fun! Look forward to seeing you there!