by Yuriko Hime
Annoyance smacked me on the chest when I rounded the corner. Lynx was on the sofa, talking to Brittany of all people. They were heavily engaged in a conversation. I pursed my lips and shook my head. She announced to everyone that she had a girlfriend, yet there she was flirty with another woman. Don't tell me Brittany's hand on her knees meant nothing? The door to my left blew open, causing the warm air from the back to come in. Laughter and jeering reached my ears, both more exciting than staring at Lynx and her new toy. I ventured to the sound to see what was going on.
Party goers were concentrated on that side. Some of them were lounging on the chairs by the pool. More were already knee-deep in the water, tossing a beach ball back and forth. A club, a bed and breakfast, and a pool. The place had everything. "Diving in!" a person screamed. I turned to catch a woman doing a running start, then splashing to the pool. Droplets sprayed on my dress.
Wanting to keep my recorder safe, I looked for an empty table to place my bag on. I was en route there when someone pushed me from behind. For a split-second, I was submerged in the chilly blue, not breathing, not seeing anything. My lungs were shocked with the sudden changes of temperature. The water pricked my skin like needles. My stomach turned and protested. I resurfaced with a large swallow of air, disoriented but alive. Brittany stood on the poolside, horror on her face, large eyes innocent. "I slipped," she said. "Is the water cold?"
It didn't take a minute for my decision to form. "Why don't you test it?" I yanked her foot and dragged her to the water with me. Her screams filled the air before she spluttered and gasped. I was out of the pool, dripping wet, when she had managed to compose herself. "Is it cold?" I said, using her own words.
No one was laughing anymore. The beach ball floated on the water, forgotten. Brittany parted her hair so she could see me. "It's refreshing," she cleared, as if that would save her from humiliation. "Too bad only one of us brought a change of clothes."
"Only one of us needs it anyway." I pulled my dress up and removed the wet cloth. It weighed me down anyhow. They all stared, some of them jealously, most of them lustfully. Brittany was giving me the dirty finger with the way she glared. As if I cared. She didn't intimidate me. Before long, someone was gripping me tightly on the waist, and I was upside down, staring at the floor. "Hey!" I cried.
"My girlfriend," Lynx said, carrying me over her shoulder. "Always the comedienne. Didn't I tell you that I should be the only one to see that nice body of yours? Where's your modesty?" She slapped my ass.
"Didn't I come with a warning sign, dear?" I gritted my teeth. "No modesty included." She walked us inside the noisy club, to a set of stairs I didn't notice before. It was when we were inside a bedroom that she dropped me roughly on the bed. I clambered up. "So now I'm your girlfriend again?" I said.
She ran a hand through her hair. "I can't leave you for one second, Scotland."
"For what? I'm perfectly fine." I opened my arms wide to prove my point. No bruises. No scratch mark.
Her eyes flashed as she stared at my chest. "Your lingerie is white. Everything is see-through." I glanced down. A fraction of my front was exposed, but it didn't harden until she mentioned it. "We're all girls here, but you should still keep your modesty," she said, diverting her eyes. "You're lucky that it wasn't as transparent earlier. My shirt and jacket are also wet because of you." Her jaw clenched. "I'm going downstairs to ask if they have dry clothes we can borrow." Lynx placed her cellphone on the desk and slammed the door close as she went on her way.
Why was she blaming me? It was her fault for pushing me to the lair of the wolves with a target sign over my head. And what was the deal with that Brittany? They were both jerks. A loud ringing tone made me glance at the desk. It was coming from Lynx's cellphone. I grabbed the stupid device and swiped the answer key. "Lynx is unavailable right now," I said. "Call back."
"Is that so?" a voice of an elderly said on the line. "I'm her grandmother. Who am I speaking to? Wait," she said before I could answer. "Lynx doesn't have a lot of friends. Are you perhaps her girlfriend?"
The door opened at the same time I smiled. Lynx and I locked eyes, me with triumph, and she realizing that it was her phone on my hand. "Why yes grandma, I'm her girlfriend, Scotland."
"She hasn't mentioned you before."
Lynx ran to me, trying to grab the phone, but I was quick on my feet, jumping on the bed. "I know she hasn't," I said. "She can be unbearably shy when it comes to our relationship. But you know what? I have the most wonderful news. Lynx proposed to me a few minutes ago. You know what that means."
Lynx had managed to wrestle me to the bed and pin me under her with both legs. She snatched the phone from my hand and stared at the screen. "The call ended," she growled. "What did you do?"
I twirled her hair with my fingers. "Nothing much. But now we're even."
Chapter 12
Repeat after me everyone. "Bias." That would be our word for today's adventure, or chapter if you wanted to put it that way. The biggest mistake a researcher could do was be biased. After much thought, I decided to venture to the other side of the fence and interview the opposition. They called themselves the 'Anti-gays,' the 'Anti-homosexuals,' or the 'LGBT rights opposition.' While for others, they were referred to as 'bigots, homophobes, Jesus freaks, and republicans.' Was I right or was I right?
For this endeavor, I have enlisted my best friend. You knew her well by now. "Lulu, please say hello to our audience." She pushed the recorder away from her face. I continued speaking to the device. "Sorry for that, readers. She's been grouchy lately, and I'm assuming it's because of menstruation. It's nothing to be ashamed of girls. Just a normal life with a vajayjay." Lulu cringed at my description. "Too vulgar?" I said. She nodded. "They'll get over it. What are you doing anyway? The protest is due in an hour. I want to get there as soon as possible."
A day after the party at The Cove, I was back to looking for people to interview. Lo and behold, there was this forum online belonging to people that hated the LGBT. They were having a protest today, three hour's ride away from where we lived. Upon learning that we would partake on this adventure, Lulu bought transition backpacks for each of us. As we speak, she was putting granola bars, bottles of water, flashlights, and extra batteries in it.
She zipped the backpack close. "No offense Scotland, but I don't trust you with a large group of people."
I pouted. "Excuse me, m'lady, but I'm more than capable to be around people. You keep forgetting who I am."
"Asia, 2013, you, me, and Casper," she said with a pointed look. "You entangled us in a riot. A riot! We'd be dead if the cops didn't arrive. I'm not taking any chances. You're bringing the bag. No but's." She pushed the backpack to my chest. At times, I was thoroughly convinced that Lulu wasn't my Watson but Frankenstein coming alive to torment me.
Nevertheless, her crabbiness didn't dampen my spirits. I whistled in the car as I pulled out of the driveway, marveling at how great the afternoon was. It wasn't sweltering hot for a summer like it sometimes was in Cali. The streets weren't overcrowded like the tropical countries we've visited in the past. People were smiling and friendly. A beautiful day indeed.
"Why are you so perky?" Lulu said when we hit the road. "You've been singing Michael Jackson songs more than usual."
I adjusted the rearview mirror. "We owe my happiness to discovery. We're moving forward with the book, that's why." There was also me winning against Lynx. The woman couldn't do anything but take me home after the party. It felt so good to get even. Lulu and I glanced at her lap when my phone rang. I gave it to her for safekeeping before getting in the car. "Answer it," I said.
She frowned on the name on the screen and swiped. "Scotland asked me to get the call," she said. Her lips flattened to a thin line. "I'm never better, Casper. Talk to your sister. I'm putting you on speaker." I glanced quizzically at Lulu. She used to be so excited when he called.
"Caspie," I said. "What's up?"
"Just calling to say hello." His tone was awkwar
d. I wasn't the only one who noticed the poor reception. "Are you girls alright? Lulu sounds different."
I grabbed the phone and pushed the speaker button so we could talk privately. "She's fine," I murmured. "We're heading to a protest for my research. Lulu is anxious about the interaction. Don't mind her."
"I don't like the sound of that. Maybe you shouldn't go," he said. I rolled my eyes. Why were they always second guessing me with these events? It wasn't like I intentionally steered us to the riot before. There was a large number of people in the park, so I thought it was a celebration. No one would have guessed that they'd be punching each other, throwing water bottles, and start a big fire, enough for the firemen to swoop in with their hoses. Totally not my fault.
"You should trust me more," I said. "We'll be careful, promise." The traffic caused by the stop light on the intersection allowed me to examine Lulu when the call was finished. She was composed, chin resting on her hand. "If you have something to say, say it now or forever hold your peace," I started. "Do you officially hate the world or just my brother? Just so you know, I'm also on the fence with this Jessie person he's dating. It's hard to decide whether a body bag is better, or getting her on the missing person's list."
The corner of her lips twitched. "I wish you're kidding, but I know you'll do it if I ask. You're crazy," she said.
"I am, so wipe that frown from your face. Jessie's life is on the line."
"I'm not guaranteeing anything," she said. I was more at ease when the car started moving again. Lulu had managed to crack a smile. Avoidance was her way of coping with Casper. While I still thought they were best suited for each other, this had to do in the meantime.
Due to more traffic in the next avenue, the protest we were attending was in full swing when we got to the location. The organizers have managed to close several streets, the length of which it spanned, I wasn't sure. They didn't give much details in the forums, only the time and place, as well as the signs they wanted people to bring.
On the center of activity was a wide stage. A middle-aged woman with mismatched clothes, tacky hat, and dreadful makeup was shouting on her megaphone. "Sinners! Blasphemers! Wipers of the human race."
"Wow," Lulu said. "Where did you find these people again?"
I slung the backpack she has given over my shoulder. "On the internet. Who better to interrogate than them?" I could see where she was coming from though. What a scene it was. From where we stood, hundreds of people littered the streets. Majority brought banners that said, 'God hates fags,' or 'America is dead because of gays,' or something like, 'Children needs a mom and dad.' They were also wearing shirts that proclaimed how much they detested same sex marriage and how it should be abolished immediately. The chatter wasn't as deafening as the roar from the stage, but with people collected into groups and all talking to each other, it could be loud.
I was about to approach a group of friends who looked reasonable enough to interview when Lulu held me back. "We're not in our home turf," she said. "Best not to rile these people. They could be dangerous." I got her in so many levels, but I wasn't letting fear or anything else get in the way. A good researcher knew what the stakes were. Lulu let me go eventually, following me through the crowd until we reached the group of friends.
"Hello," I said. "Mind if I do a short interview on you guys? It's nothing special, only something that can give me the noble prize when published."
They were all ears. People were so easy to bait. "Oh yeah? Like what kind of interview?" one protester asked. I moved in the middle of their small circle, staring at the faces of the young and the old. They ranged from teens to middle-aged moms. The older bunch were closer to the stage.
I directed the recorder to them. "I've heard people use the word gay as a form of insult. Clearly, some of you feel strongly about it enough to start an event in this magnitude just to agree. My study is about lesbians and whether or not it is a choice to become one, and so forth. As such, I want to explore both views, the opposition and the other side. This leads me to the question, why do you hate them?"
"I don't necessarily hate them," protester one answered willingly. The guy adjusted his mesh cap and spit his bubblegum. "More like disagree with their lifestyle. Can't say the same for other people. I'm here because I think lesbians deserve better. They're always complaining about being bullied, depression, suicide, et cetera. If they stop being lesbian in the first place, they wouldn't be exposed to that."
"But those bullying came from people like you. People who hates them," I said. "If you think they deserve better, shouldn't you look at yourself in the mirror and ask who subjects them to such treatment? Please don't think I'm siding with them. It's for the audience to understand what's going through your head."
Another protester, a big woman with thick glasses and a strong attitude, grabbed the recorder from me. I let her be. "When parents see their children making mistakes, what do they do?" she said. "They discipline them. Lesbians and gays think we're bullying them, but we're acting like their parents and older siblings. We don't allow our children to run amok and have sex like animals. Call us bigots all you want, but we show our care for them through this movement. Sometimes you have to express hatred out of love."
"Alright," I said, taking my recorder back. Small bubbles of her spit have made their way on the device. I frowned and wiped it on my jeans. After transferring this record to my computer, I'd have to get another one. A few meters from me, Lulu was giving survey forms to people, just as I instructed her in the car. "Do all of you share the same view?" I asked.
A slim man with a 70's styled hairstyle raised his hand like he was on a classroom waiting to be called. I nodded to him. "I don't," he said. "I want nothing to do with the sinners. I'm neither their concerned parent or brother who wants to straighten them out. They're impure. They shouldn't be here. There's evil on earth that should be purged, and personally, I think the LGBT belongs to that category. The bible said that only Adam and Eve were created. Where was Steve? Where was Ada? In the United States dollar, we even say 'In God we trust.' End of discussion."
"But didn't the same book you're referring to asked you to love your neighbors as you would love yourself?" I reasoned. "Didn't it discuss talking snakes, burning bushes, slavery, rape, misogyny? If you were to accept everything there, then that should mean that each of you are sinners as well, and by your own rationalization, should be purged from earth too."
He shook his head firmly. "Then answer me this, miss. Why are they having anal or using their fingers instead of the normal intercourse?" He sneered. "Because they're not normal." His group of friends clapped alongside him.
I tilted my head. "For the sake of argument, sir," I said. "Why do you care which body part they insert where? Is minding how other people have intercourse normal in itself?" His expression dulled as he searched for the right answer. His companions were no better. Their group was getting edgy. I could feel it. It was best to take this elsewhere. "Thank you for allowing me to do this interview." I shook their hands one by one. "It's been enlightening on my part. Bear in mind that this is done for educational purposes and was not meant to offend you."
Lulu has collected the last of the papers she gave away when I went to her. "How did it go?" she said, putting the questionnaires in her bag. I wiped the fine sheen of sweat on her upper lip with my thumb. It could get unbearably hot with the size of people here. I myself felt sticky and warm in my simple get-up of t-shirt and jeans.
"Rather well," I answered. "They're open to discussions. A little anyway. I love that with subjects." To my left and right, people held their signs higher in the air, waving it in hopes that their message would get across. I didn't see the point of this. If they really wanted to express themselves, they should go to establishments where they could be heard by the LGBT. I shifted my weight on the other foot. On second thought, that would create a bigger conflict. Protesting on a blocked-off street was safer for everyone. "Let's go near the stage," I said to Lulu. "I want
to hear what the rest of them are saying."
On the way there, I heard snippets of the protester's exchanges. So far, I have managed to collect precious data from attending. For anyone who cared to know, this was the reason why they disapproved of lesbians and LGBT in general:
Religion- Most of their teachings, whether Catholic, Christian, or other forms, expresses homosexuality as a sin. Sodom and Gomorrah, according to them, were full of lewd homosexual acts which was why it was destroyed.
Diseases- As they kept screaming the words 'AIDS and HIV' as Lulu and I passed, it was safe to assume that the protesters viewed lesbians and gays to spread this disease more than heterosexual relationships. They didn't associate it with having unsafe sex or having multiple partners. No, as long as you were LGBT, for them you'd have HIV.
Survival- It was their belief that the human race wouldn't continue because of the LGBT. Less 'straight' couples equals less children. Once again, they failed to realize that there was overpopulation on earth as it already was. We wouldn't be running out of children soon. But that was none of my business. Sips tea.
Parenting- According to them, children needed both a mother and father while growing up to function "correctly." I wonder what they thought of kids who grew up with single mothers or fathers, whether out of divorce or because the other parent died. Everyone in recent times must have been psycho's, then, because most came from dysfunctional families.
Mental disorder- Speaking of psychos, they viewed lesbianism as a mental illness. You were probably tired of me saying "again," but again, I would like to reiterate that Homosexuality was removed by the American Psychiatric Association in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders in the year 1973.