by Yuriko Hime
"Should we wait at the lobby until then?" I asked.
Lynx kicked her shoes off and went to the bed. "No, she might use the side entrance when she comes back and miss us. We should stay put." She clicked the TV remote and was soon lost in a blurry of pictures as she scanned for a passable show.
While she was busy, I crawled next to her stealthily, put her arms around me, and snuggled to her chest. "You asked me to pretend, so I'll pretend," I said.
An odd look crossed her face. "Are you so comfortable with your body that you're not against rubbing it on another person?" she said.
I draped one leg on top of hers. "You can say that. Are you attracted to me yet?"
She tsk-tsked under her breath. "I prefer low key, humble women. You're nothing like that." Was that so? I removed my legs from her and flung her arm away. "You're angry," she observed. "Did the truth hurt?" I turned to the other side, rolling my eyes. It would if I valued her opinion, in which case, I did not. But the small pinch in my gut wasn't to be ignored. I pondered over it silently, hating the feeling with each passing second. Lynx touched my back. "Are you sulking?"
"Leave me alone."
"Why?" she asked. Her breath was warm on my nape as she moved closer. I could smell the orchids on her, wild, feminine, and deceptively fierce. I wanted to scream. I wanted to give her a piece of my mind. I turned to do exactly those, but the words caught on the back of my throat. I haven't seen her eyes so close. The lightning bolts had been magnified. My irritation fizzled like a bulb running out of energy.
"Amazing," I murmured.
"What is?"
"Your eyes," I said without thinking. "They're beautiful." I wish I could hold them in my palms, wrap them on my fingers. The nearest thing to it was to trail my hand on her cheek. They were soft like I've sometimes imagined, not that I did that often. Maybe it started when I threw the sand on her. What was wrong with me?
The door suddenly opened. Feeling like I've been caught doing something bad, I leaped off the bed, guilty as a fugitive. My heart was pounding. It couldn't sit still in my chest. Lynx was more in control of her movements when she arose. "Grandma," she addressed. "You remember Scotland?" She then went to the old woman to roll her wheelchair in.
Grandma was glowing with happiness. "Why yes. Your lovely fiance." She gave me and Lynx a meaningful look. "Having fun?"
I massaged my stiff neck. "Very," I said. "You're back from the stroll early."
"Too early." She winked. Grandma called to Lynx. "Come here, dear." The old woman whispered against her ear, too low for me to hear.
Lynx had a grim line on her lips when she stood straighter. "Grandma wants to rest," she said. "We should go." It felt like I couldn't argue. Shrugging, I went to the old woman and kissed her forehead.
"What was that about?" I said when we've taken off on the street. "Grandma was acting a bit strange. What did she say?"
Lynx turned her head away. "She was asking when we'd give her granddaughters. She wanted plenty." My, my, grandma liked to move fast. Lynx and I haven't even been married yet. Things like that took time. There should be foreplay before the actual deed, as they said. Besides, there were other factors to take care of before having children, like the fact that I wasn't gay, shouldn't be considering this, and how I've almost hit the pole on the street we were walking on.
"When will you do the interview?" I said to change the subject. I must always keep my eyes on the goal. Too many distractions. "Will Tuesday do? Make that Wednesday. I want to spend time with Lulu. Wednesday it is."
Lynx arched a brow at me. "I haven't said yes to your proposition."
"But your grandma!"
"I never said yes," she repeated.
My palm slammed on the glass window of the shop we were passing by. The customers from inside and the people walking on the street with us turned to look. "Lynx," I warned. "You can't do this. We had an agreement."
She maintained a poker face. "That's the downside of being conceited," she said. "You just assume that everything is a yes." But. . . But. . . It was hard to see past the weird blur on my eyes. I felt like wrecking the glass figurines inside the shop, hitting the shelves violently with a baseball bat, and pounding my fist on my chest like a wild animal. How much would the damages cost? How long till my parents give me a one way ticket back to our estate? Lynx waited for me to exhale before stating, "Come with me.
I stuck my nose in the air. "No I won't." I wanted to follow that with something nastier. She always brought out the worst in me, and I would no longer allow her to have her way.
"Yes you will," she insisted. "You'd regret it if you don't." I closed my mouth and followed her grudgingly. One of these days, just you wait.
The back alleys she took me to were a maze. After taking too many right and left turns, I gave up on keeping track. Lynx knew the direction. She should be accountable if I got lost. Eventually, she paused in front of a wooden door, much like any other doors in the nearby buildings, and knocked. It opened a crack. "Who's there?" someone said inside. I couldn't detect if it was male or female. The voice was too raspy. Lynx murmured a name. A chain was unlatched, and we were let in.
Lynx lead me to a narrow staircase succeeding the door, sure footed and at ease, as if it wasn't her first time there. At the bottom, she parted the beaded curtains and stepped aside to let me in. I haven't actually been, but I knew a tattoo shop when I see one. Framed pictures of past jobs were proudly displayed on the walls. It gave off a creative vibe that was grungy and dark but still pleasing. The small space also smelled of soap, though I couldn't distinguish what kind. There were no customers or artists ask.
"Sit," Lynx said, motioning to a chair.
"What are we doing here?"
"You want me to give you an interview," she said. "This is my yes." My next glance at the room was tainted with bewilderment. It was aesthetically clean, but who was to say that the equipment was? And how would everyone react? My mother would be against this. Dad would probably forgive me. Casper would celebrate the individuality. Lulu would be alright, so long as she liked the design. "What are you waiting for?" Lynx said. "You shouldn't demean the process of getting inked. It was done by warriors and royalty before the time of Christ. It signifies strength and kinship, worn like an armor and a trophy in the olden times." She was giving me a lecture about that now?
"Give me time to think," I said, holding a hand up. I could always ask Ace for another shot at an interview. Why would I get a tattoo just because Lynx said so? It was a mistake to stare at her. She challenged me for the hundredth time, piercing her eyes in mine. The primal urge to win emerged, teasing me to surrender. My feet walked on their own. I found myself leaning back on the black leather chair, staring at the white ceiling.
"Let me get my things," she said. While she disappeared inside another room to the left, my mind started pounding me with curses. Why did I do this to myself? Why? Lynx was back in a jiffy, putting her materials atop a surface. She was also wearing gloves. I turned away, swallowing. "It's going to be an original design," she said. "Ready?"
"Get it over with before I change my mind," I said. What was this coldness creeping in? It was numbing my lips, making it hard for me to talk.
"Where should I put it?" The manner in which she asked sent a shiver down my spine. She was saying one thing and was giving me another meaning. It felt like we were about to do something dirty but personal, like rough sex between strangers in a bar's grimy bathroom cubicle.
I breathed out and reached for my jeans. After I unbuttoned and tugged the zipper down, I pointed just above the V-shape. Unless I wore a scanty bikini, she and I would be the only people in the world who'd know. Lynx's gaze lingered on the spot before she nudged her head to my shirt. "May I?" When I nodded, she pulled it up, stopping before my bra showed to give me an ounce of privacy. Why did she bother? I already felt naked in front of her nonetheless. She'd stripped me into vulnerability, getting me to agree like this.
Her gloved hand was ne
ither hot nor cold on my skin, just rubbery and strange. I kept my arms folded against my chest as she positioned the needle on me. I didn't know where else to put them. We locked eyes at the last second. "I'll be gentle," she promised.
The first prick was not as painful as I expected. It was bearable, like having an injection or being stung by a bee by accident. I glanced around the room, at the plants on the corner and the magazines stacked on one counter, to keep my mind off things. The sting turned to paper cuts, and that too was manageable. But the longer it took, the more I felt myself getting tired. The paper wasn't paper anymore but a razorblade digging in my flesh repeatedly.
"You're a sadist," I said to Lynx, lids heavy, wincing at the ache yet used to it by then. How long had we been doing it? An hour? Two? I didn't know.
She was bent to my torso, her forehead puckered in concentration. "It takes one to know one," she murmured.
I pursed my lips. "If you give me a disease from this, I'm going to seduce you to sleep with me so you'll contract it too. I don't care if I'm not lesbian. We're both going to have it." The area burned painfully as her hand got heavier. "Holy! Can you lighten that up?" I complained.
She chuckled. "Sorry. What were you saying again?" She got back to being gentle.
"Nothing I just. . ." I swallowed. "It feels, I don't know. . . Intimate?"
I caught her smiling before she resumed her straight face. "I like how you didn't equate intimacy with just sex," she said. "Not everything is about that." She lifted the equipment and put them out of sight. "All done. What do you think?" It was finished? I didn't think that time could go so quickly. I looked down on my torso to see what design she came up with. A groan passed through my lips. Oh fudge. There was a small tattoo of an animal on my skin. A lynx. She branded me as hers.
Chapter 17
The person you are calling is unavailable right now. Please try your call again later. Beep. I glared at my phone. If I hear that message one more time I'd, bleep! Bleep! Bleep!
"Still no luck?" Lulu said. I shook my head. "Maybe she's busy. You said her grandma was in town. They could be sight-seeing." She took a swig from the bottled water, droplets of her sweat on the floor. I should be doing yoga poses with her, but instead my time was being wasted by Lynx. Again. Busy my foot.
"I went to the hotel where her grandma was staying, but she wasn't there anymore." I put my phone down. "She checked out a day prior. She could have left the town. Lynx is just being difficult." At the mention of her name, the tattoo under my navel throbbed. It was nothing but my imagination. No big deal. Tattoos weren't something to be concerned of, unless they get infected. I shifted my gaze to the ceiling. A more pressing issue was, why haven't I told Lulu about it?
"Is there something you want to tell me?" she said, as if sensing the direction of my thoughts. Crap. To speak was to lie, while to remain mum was to bid for time. I shrugged, choosing the easy way out. She got up from the mat. "I know what will cheer you. More interviews. While you're waiting for Lynx to get herself together, we can go to the Midnight Cafe and gather more evidence." Her whole face lit up in excitement.
"I always forget that you haven't actually been inside," I said. "You'll like it there. Want to help me print the questionnaires while killing the time?"
"Sure. Let me just take a shower first." She scrutinized her colorful yoga pants. Samples of them were delivered yesterday for her to try. "They should improve the design," she said, "or I'd tell my uncle to stop naming the whole brand after me." Lulu peeled the upper part of the cloth from her leg, stuck because of sweat. "See you in a few."
Coming up with more questions and printing the form was the easy part. It was driving to the Midnight Cafe, trying not to scratch near my crotch at my tattoo while Lulu was on the front seat, that made it hard. The always calm party has already started by the time of our arrival. I directed Lulu to the table vacated by Lynx, knowing no one would occupy it for the night. "Stay put while I grab us coffee," I said.
I waved to get granny's attention from the counter. I haven't talked to the head barista in a while. She saw me through the glass shelves holding the cakes and pastries and nodded. "What's yer order?" she asked. "I see you brought a friend."
"Yup, her name is Lulu. She's here to help me." I stared at our table on purpose. "Where's Lynx? I haven't gotten hold of her in days. She's supposed to assist me. I thought she'd be here tonight."
"Why don't you ask her yourself? Heard you've been dating." Granny chuckled. "If rumors are true, you've discovered yourself, eh?"
My shoulder's tensed. "That's rubbish," I denied. "You of all people should know what I came here to do. I mean business. Besides, even if I'm lesbian, she's not my type." What was my type anyway? My tattoo pulsated like it was alive. That was so unnecessary. Looking back at Granny, I forced a smile. "I need to go back to my tasks. Please have two latte's brought to my table. I'll send the payment later." The walk to Lulu took shorter than it should. "Let's proceed with the plan. Time's a wasting."
Like what we did at the protest, Lulu and I divided the task. She was to hand over the questionnaires while I went to the tables with my practiced lines, asking people for interview. Everyone had gotten used to me. They were familiar with my face and were informed with why I was there. The only downside was they were more excited to discuss my love life than anything else.
"How is Lynx in real life?" someone asked. "It's a stupid question, I know, but none of us have actually talked to her for more than two minutes. We're intimidated." I put the recorder on the table and pressed a hand on my throat. Where was the coffee when I needed it?
Since they were all still gaping at me, I felt obliged to answer. I tilted my head and said, "If you really want to know, she's an ass. She followed me like a stalker for days, found out where I lived, keeps challenging me for some reason, and gave me a tattoo near my privates that is possibly infected." The group comprising of seven girls were all quiet, staring at me like I've grown another head. "Just kidding." I waved my hand. "Where's your sense of humor? Lynx is cool. She's normal." I had to keep myself from rolling my eyes. The things we did for the greater good.
Two girls sitting across each other traded questioning looks. "Has she gotten over you-know-who?" one of them asked. "Lynx used to go here with her often, but then. Ow!" The other girl had kicked her under the table. The pain on her face wouldn't be there by itself.
"Who are we talking about?" I said. You-know-who, who? Was that a proper sentence construction? Let me check with my English teacher. Ha-ha. Don't you just love books like this? Anyway, who were the girls referring to? Lynx never said anything about a friend.
The girl recovered and scratched at her ear. "Never mind," she said. "We don't really talk about her here. It's disrespectful for Lynx, especially since she's gone." Gone? As in dead? No wonder Lynx was a shady fudge. A possible girlfriend or best friend had died on her. I fiddled with the recorder. The discussion was leaving a bad taste on my mouth, yet somehow I wanted to know more. Lulu chose that time to go to us, bringing the coffee I ordered. A good thing too. Her presence reminded me of the most important thing.
"Everyone, this is Lulu. Lulu, everyone," I said with a brisk tone. They made room for her so she could squeeze in the group. "Let's go back to business, shall we? I have a question to ask all of you. It's overused in forums, and you may have been asked by a friend, a family member, or a girlfriend at one point in your life. The question is this. How and when did you discover that you were a lesbian?"
With the topic in the air, people stopped asking about my personal life, and instead, focused on the answers. It was a relief not to think about Lynx for a while. Underneath was the summary of their stories.
Subject 1 (for the night):
"There was this TV show I liked to watch when I was ten years old," she said. "I can't remember what it was called, but it was really popular, and all my friends watched it too. In the show, four handsome guys were in love with a girl. My classmates would ask me who
my crush was between the four, and I'd always tell them it was the handsome guy with shaggy hair playing the violin. Years later, I realized that I didn't have a crush on him. I wanted to be him. Get my drift?"
What I learned from subject 1 (may vary from person to person):
Signs of lesbianism could show as early as a young age. But because they were too young to understand, they confused it with something else. While the signs could manifest from 10 yrs below, sexuality itself could be discovered years from the time of manifestation, maybe at 20's or 30's when the person was more sure of herself.
Subject 2:
"I might have suspected in school that I was a lesbian," she began. "I wasn't sure because I've had boyfriends in the past, but there were several times when I was attracted to females. Things changed at freshmen year in school when we had our swimming class. You know how it goes in the shower area. Some women are confident to display their body. One time, my classmate was combing her hair in front of the mirror after taking a shower. She was only in her bra and shorts." Subject two blushed. "I stared at her the whole time."
There was a mild cheer from our group on the table, making her laugh. "Who can blame me?" she said. "She's hot. Smoking. Besides, that schoolmate is my girlfriend now. We've been dating for more than ten years."
What I learned from subject 2 (may vary from person to person):
Being a lesbian did not automatically mean that they'd be dating girls. Sometimes they'd go to a transition. Straight >