by Yuriko Hime
Debunked: Masculine as they were on the outside, butch lesbians didn't always equal to aggressive behavior. That only meant that Femme's and other spectrums could have different personalities and traits too. They were normal people, ladies and gents.
"Right, Joe," I said, shifting the recorder back to me. "As we agreed, I'll follow you for a span of a week without getting in your way, like a shadow. So where are you taking your shadow for the first day?"
"We're going to meet with my brother and best friend just around the corner," she mumbled. "We'll eat lunch, then hopefully watch a baseball game in the afternoon. I don't often do this, but since it's a weekend, I have extra time on my hands."
Day 1
After walking a couple of blocks, Joe waved to two males who looked like they were in their twenties like her. They were dressed similarly to Joe, though they didn't have the glasses and tattoo. She'd explained what was going to happen before meeting them, so they let me tail their backs. At first, the three were reluctant, always looking behind like they were followed by the paparazzi, but after ten minutes of conversation, they soon forgot that I was there.
The pizzeria where we were having lunch was nothing out of the ordinary. It was a dingy type that you'd pass by on your way to another building. I took the next table so I wouldn't disturb them while they ate. Their conversation centered on Joe and the girl she liked.
"Why don't you just tell her?" Joe's brother asked. "You've known her for what, five years? She's been in and out of bad relationships. Maybe it's time you step in and rescue her from that mess." From my observations, he was nothing like his sister and didn't seem to have trouble saying what was on his mind.
Joe kept her eyes on the pizza. "I don't think I'm right for her," she murmured.
Joe's best friend had been quiet until that point. He thumped his fist on the table. "Bullshit. Who's been there when she broke up with her first boyfriend? You. Who's been there when she discovered that she was a lesbian? You. Who's been there when she repeatedly got cheated on by her exes? Damn right, you. Hand me your phone," he said to Joe. "I'm giving that girl a piece of my mind for acting so shitty."
I smiled as I chewed on my Neapolitan pizza. Both the brother and the best friend reminded me of my relationship with Lulu and Casper.
Joe's hand traveled nervously to her pocket. "No way," she objected. "If she's going to know, it better come from me."
"Sooner rather than later," her brother warned. "Or we'll do something about it." I continued listening and watching the three of them, finishing my remaining pizza. They had a remarkable relationship, these three. Joe was the shy one, the brother was the speaker, and her best friend was the doer. Together, they were unstoppable.
Debunked: Not all lesbians hated men. Whoever started that misconception clearly haven't seen Joe's mini family or have been staying too long in their caves. Joe's brother and best friend had a supportive and loving relationship with her, and I have no doubt that in times of need, she too would come to their aid.
Day 2
"We're visiting the church today," Joe said, stopping the engine of her car. It was afternoon of the second day, and she has just picked me from the bookstore. "My parents are very religious. Every Sunday, without fail, we've attended mass and listened to the sermon of the priest. I go here whenever my mind is messy or I want to wish for something to happen." I followed her out of the car. "Yesterday, I thought about what my brother said, so I'm going to ask God for a sign."
I stared at the structure that we were getting closer to. The stained glass windows of the church illustrated doves and angels soaring in the sky, free from the pandemonium on earth. I stopped just outside the huge wooden doors. "I don't want to be a bother," I said to Joe. "Meet me back here when you're finished praying." She nodded solemnly and went inside, head bowed, shoulders forward.
Debunked: Lesbians, depending on who you'd talk to, could be spiritual too. For many, their life was a sin, but that wouldn't stop people like Joe who just wanted to live her life properly with the guidance of the supreme being she worshipped.
When I looked up, the altar boy was staring at me from inside. The same one that Lulu and I encountered before. "El Diablo," he mouthed, doing the sign of the cross. Not this again. That was the go-signal I was looking for to go back to the car.
Later that day, Joe would tell me that the 'altar boy' was the priest's son out of wedlock. Though mentally disturbed, they allowed him to stay in the church where he wasn't bothering anyone. Let the innocent cast the first stone as they said; for the priest who forgot his vow, the altar boy who thought I was the devil, and for Joe who was committing a sin in the eyes of the equally guilty, for something she could do nothing about.
Day 3
I was ecstatic to find out on the third day that Joe and I would be meeting at the Midnight Cafe. It had felt like days since I've been there, and I've been missing the ambiance and the coffee. Something was different about Joe. She got rid of the button-down shirt in favor of a more snappy cardigan and khaki's, paired with black shoes. Her glasses were gone too, replaced by contact lenses that brightened her face.
"What's with the get-up?" I asked. The bouquet of flowers on her hand and the strong cologne she was wearing gave her away. I grinned. "Don't tell me. . ."
She returned my grin self-consciously. "Wish me luck." She opened the door. "After you." What a gentleman. No, forget that. Even women could open doors for others. She was a polite person.
Like a proud mother, I watched Joe drag her feet to a petite girl who was waiting by a table. Maybe I should leave her alone for today. She deserved the privacy. Something brushed against my hand, jerking me from thoughts of the study. I scowled after the figure. It was Lynx, wearing a cotton t-shirt and fitted jeans, heading to her reserved table. I went after her.
Her expression didn't change when I sank on the opposite chair, as if she was expecting that response. At the same time, my practiced speech disappeared when I got a better look of her face. She was more imposing under the light, a painting that has come to life. "Just what do you think you're doing?" I started.
She tilted her head. "Sitting here, relaxing. How about you?" That low, deliberate voice of hers could have been swearing in French and you'd still think she was telling you she loves you in English. How irksome.
"You weren't relaxing a couple of days ago when you were driving a taxi," I accused. "You brought me here. I know it. And then there's the cinema and the restaurant." I glanced at the counter. Granny barista was busy tending to the coffee brew to notice me berating her precious Lynx. Well she started it. "You were in the spa too."
She smirked, the animal. "What exactly did I do to you to get that kind of reaction?" she asked.
"At the spa, you. . ." A chill ran down my spine.
She pulled her chair closer to the table, her eyes flashing. "Yes?" she whispered. "What did I do, Scotland? That's your name, isn't it? I'd like to know in detail what happened between us at the spa. If you're going to point fingers and accuse me of something, you have to be very specific about it. Run it to me one by one." My hands clenched. I applaud her for knowing how to play her cards well. I didn't think she had it in her. She'd won for now, but that wouldn't stop me from getting even.
I pushed my chair back to stand. "This isn't over. I'll be back." She shrugged and glanced at me from head to foot, burning her eyes on my body along the way. "Too bad you can't touch this again," I said. "Oh, and your interview came out really nice. I'm not turning into a stalker like you anytime soon, but I'm going to get in your head like you're doing to me one of these days."
"I look forward to it," she said, flipping her hair in challenge. She really shouldn't have said that. I smiled sarcastically at her and got out of the cafe.
Debunked: Not all lesbians have daddy issues. Some of them were just mentally screwed by themselves, like Lynx. Sorry, not sorry.
Day 7
Joe was swamped with work for three days because her co-worker
was absent, so it was on the final day that we were able to see each other again. It was excellent all the same because she and her friend-turned-girlfriend were having their first date.
"Are you sure it's okay if I tag along?" I asked. I wasn't embarrassed to be a third wheeler, though I've developed a soft spot for the shy girl who'd finally achieved her dreams. A first date was important for most couples. They'd want to be alone. Not to me though. It had always been like an ordinary day whenever a boyfriend asked me out.
"My prayers have been answered," Joe said, eyes on the road while she drove. "I don't know what it is about you, but you're a good luck charm to me. Helping you with your research is the least I can do." We stopped by a three-storey building. After a few minutes, Joe's girlfriend entered the car, smelling of fresh perfume and excitement. "Have I introduced you to Sasha?" Joe asked, trying to sound under control. She was fooling no one but herself.
"I believe you haven't," I said. Sasha and I shook hands. "Thank you for allowing me to go with you. I won't be a creeper, promise." Lies. All lies.
Sasha was a perfect match to Joe. While the latter was meek, the other was outgoing. She liked telling stories and would give anecdotes about their adventures in the five years they have been friends. Before Joe told her how she felt, Sasha had been in a series of unfortunate relationships, first with men, and later with lesbians. Her parents thought it was a phase, but Sasha begged to differ.
Debunked: You could never outgrow being a lesbian because it had nothing to do with age or the monthly menstrual cycle. Saying that to them would create feelings of anguish and would be the fastest way for a heterosexual person to drive a lesbian from their life, family or otherwise.
Joe and Sasha loved sharing Mexican food, so for their first date, they went to a restaurant that served burritos and quesadillas. I chose the farthest spot from them to observe. The first few minutes went well. It wasn't after an hour and they were asking for the bill did the problem arise. I thought better than to intervene. Only when they really needed my help would I do that.
"What was the problem?" I said in the car, on our way home. Sasha and Joe had managed to settle the issue and looked calm enough to ask.
Sasha put a supporting hand on Joe's shoulder. "This marshmallow went nuts when the staff insisted that she get the bill because she looked like the guy. It's not that Joe didn't like to pay. She thought it was a bit unfair to assume that we should take on roles. It always happens. She shouldn't get bothered by it."
Joe gripped the steering wheel tighter. "It's my right as a person to disagree with what I think is wrong," she grumbled.
Debunked: There was no 'man' in a lesbian relationship. It made sense since they were both women.
"Anyway, are you going to the party, Scotland?" Sasha said. "It's two weeks from now at a place called 'The Cove.' Lesbian parties like that don't come around often except for the cafe, but when they do, you get to chill with like-minded people. If you want to observe for your project, I suggest you go there."
"Done," I said. "How do I get in?"
Joe glanced at Sasha. "You forgot that it's an invite only, hon," she said.
Sasha face palmed herself. "Oh yeah. It totally slipped my mind. You need to have a partner or a friend who was invited to get there," she said.
"I know someone who's available though," Joe remarked. "Lynx is always VIP in those events. Nine out of ten, she doesn't attend, but that one time she did, she didn't take a date. You were talking to her the other day weren't you, Scotland? Ask her out."
Chapter 10
To quote from William Shakespeare's Hamlet but adding my own cliché twist, 'To ask or not to ask. That was the question.' Lynx was the only invitee I technically knew who didn't have a partner or friend to take to the party. In all assumptions of course. She could still be taking an arm candy to accompany her. On one hand, asking her to choose me would be beneficial for my research. Like Sasha and Joe said before we parted, I could gather tons of data there that I'd have problems getting anywhere else.
Lesbian parties in the area rarely occurred except for the Midnight Cafe. Some attendees would also come from neighboring places, meaning additional subjects for me. In research, the sample size (people interviewed or observed) was critical. The larger a sample size was, the broader the picture for analysis. Aka, the more lesbians I talked to in person, the better I could tell you about them. On the other hand, asking Lynx for a favor would mean I'd owe her. She'd have total control. I hated surrendering the steering wheel to anyone, especially to a person I barely knew.
But desperate times called for desperate measures, as they said, so for my first attempt, I walked to her table casually, a cup of hot coffee on one hand. Whenever she was in the Midnight Cafe, Lynx would stay in her corner, chair facing the window, doing her own hogwash. Tonight wasn't any different. She was scribbling on a piece of paper, shoulders hunched and legs crossed, her titian colored hair leaning on orange because of the light overhead.
I put the coffee on the table, following suit on the accompanying chair. "Hello." I waved my hand in front of her face. Only then did she put the pen down and stare at me. I've been strategizing on how to present the idea before going here, concluding that the best option was to get straight to the point. "My friends, Sasha and Joe, told me that there's going to be another party on a place called The Cove on Friday," I began. "I want you to take me."
"No," she said without a second thought. I blinked at her. Nobody had the galls to reject me before. While resentful, I tried to calm my nerves by repeating a simple mantra- don't kill her. Lynx noticed the coffee. "Is this for me? How thoughtful." She brought the cup near her nose and took a deep sniff, her long lashes fluttering in appreciation. I waited for her to sip, put it down, and wipe her lips with a tissue, hoping she'd change her mind. "That was nice," she said. "But still no."
I could make grown men tremble in fear with my glare. Babies have cried. Old women were uncomfortable. But Lynx? Lynx didn't care. She slid the paper to her and started jotting notes soon as I left the chair.
For my second attempt, I brought survey forms collected from customers of the Midnight Cafe. What could I say? Scotland was determined. And Lulu, being my ever supportive Watson, convinced me to swallow my pride and try again.
Lynx was reading a notebook on her regular spot, her other books occupying eighty percent of the table. I waved the survey forms under her nose. "Do you know why even though empires have risen and fallen, we're still in the loop with their civilization?" I said to a non-listening audience. She'd fixed her gaze on the windows when I sat, and hasn't looked at me since. "It's because of studies," I went on. "Without such studies, we wouldn't be enlightened. I need you to take me to the party for such reasons." It felt like I was talking to a slab of stone. She didn't even nod her head to me. I threw my hands in the air. "You are so unbelievable."
Would pouring a cup of hot coffee on her jeans constitute a lawsuit? My mother wouldn't like that, though daddy would clean up the mess. I moved away from Lynx as quickly as possible, taking my murderous thoughts with me. Joe and Sasha who had been present on the other table gave me quizzical stares as if to ask if Lynx said yes. I shook my head to them and to granny who shrugged in the counter.
You who's reading this. Stop underestimating me. I could not, would not, surrender. You hear me? I was back with a vengeance, or rather, my third and last attempt to convince her the next meeting at the cafe. The party would be on the day after tomorrow.
Dozens of pictures were scattered on Lynx's table, and though it was a natural tendency to check what was on them, I paid no attention as I sat and prepared to bargain. "I realize that I might have come off too strongly for your taste," I started. "You're probably used to asking people out or whatever. But I really, really need to get to that party." Lynx shuffled through the pictures, more interested at them than me.
I exhaled and closed my eyes. Casper told me before that there would come a time when I wouldn't get what I wa
nted. I didn't believe him. It was me, Scotland Roth. It wasn't the time to bring my surname to this, but I've always gotten my way, with or without it. Lynx hasn't look up from the pictures when I opened my eyes. I finally addressed what was keeping her so busy. The smiling faces of children from the slums stared happily back at me. Dirty as their cheeks, noses, and clothes were when the photo was captured, my heart surrendered at the sight.
"My best friend took me to a beautiful country once." I wasn't sure why I was telling Lynx this, seeing that she probably wouldn't give a rats ass. The pictures have brought bad and good memories that I had to share. "There are big forests and natural resources in that country, but the people didn't have anything to eat. Children were so malnourished that you could see every jut of their bones and ribs sticking out."
I snatched the picture from Lynx's hand, desperate for her to listen. "Low support from the government is what's keeping that place from developing," I said. "The political issues are a mess. I told daddy to do everything in his power to help, and one day I'm going back with my brother and Lulu to try to build the community." I handed the picture back to her and prepared to leave. It had upset me more than her noncommittal. Casper always said that I was unsympathetic with most things, but the children in that country were the biggest exceptions.
My cellphone's hypnotic ringtone- okay it was Billy Ray's Achy Breaky Heart- I swear I don't know how it got there, woke me the next morning. "Call me back," I answered groggily. I wasn't ready to get out of the comforter cocoon, or let go of my dream about standing on top of the mountain for that matter. The call was followed by another ring, and then another. It didn't want to stop. I slid the answer option. "Ever heard of beauty sleep, bitch?" A horrible feeling settled on my stomach. Shiz, what if it's the parents? I cleared my throat. "Daddy?"
"Not quite, but if you want to roll that way, I prefer to be called mommy," Lynx said. Huh? I pried my eyes open. The unregistered number was blurry. How did she get in touch? "I need to do some chores today," she continued in such a velvety voice, it was criminal. "Meet me at the market district in two hours." I was wide awake when she ended the call. Who the hell did she think she was, ordering me around like that? I would never!