To Be a Lesbian

by Yuriko Hime

  She signaled between me and her. "Will you remove your legs from mine anytime soon, or do you prefer for me to carry you to the restaurant?" she asked. I shuffled out of her way and almost stumbled head first to the floor before she caught me by the arm. "Careful," she warned. "Your pants are still down." I've forgotten about that tiny detail. My faced flushed a deeper red.

  I put a conversational front when we were on her porch. It was the only way we could both forget the unfortunate things that happened a while ago and put it behind us. "You have a beautiful home, if that's really yours," I said. Lynx bent down to a black vase by the wall. She blocked the rest of my view so I didn't see what she was up to. "What are you doing?"

  When she stood aside, the vase was in its original position. "Activating the automated locks," she said. "You've seen the house. I don't want anyone getting in. It's for their protection, not mine." Lynx dusted her hands. "I used to rely on just the door lock, but then a group of boys who thought they were cool enough to trespass saw what's inside. One of them had a heart attack. Instead of pressing charges, I had to take him to the hospital. He was fine, but I had to tighten the security. Anyone who goes through this door while the alarm is on would have the police after him."

  I shifted my weight. "Is that a true story, or you're low-key warning me against going here when you're not around so I can't uncover your skeletons in the closet?"

  "Whatever makes you sleep at night," she said, walking down the wooden stairs to me. I rolled my eyes at her. She didn't like giving straightforward information about herself. How did she expect me not to resort to radical means?

  I pointed to the two trees I've seen prior to knocking on her front door. "I think they're both beautiful," I said, "but I'm gravitating towards the leafless tree. Which do you prefer?"

  On the corner of my eye, I saw her twisting the silver ring on her finger. I've always wanted to ask about that too but had been side-tracked by other things. A calm look settled on her face. "I'll tell you the next time you're around," she said. Did she say that subconsciously or not? Maybe Lynx wanted me to come back. It could also be her way of avoiding the answer. Either was fine with me. I was getting the hang of her. A little. We had a long way to go.

  Lynx took me to a street that I haven't explored with Lulu yet. There was an abundance of restaurants left and right, a mixture of every cuisine, from Thai, Vietnamese, to burger joints and Italian. It was a haven for foodie and friends who wanted a good time, and in our case, hungry to the point where my tummy was making inhumane noises.

  "What are you craving for?" Lynx said. "They have almost everything here."

  "If I wanted to eat an alligator, do they have that on the menu?" I asked. She gave me a look. Okay, that was rubbish, but I could eat a cow right now. So many choices were in this street. Which should I go for?

  "How about pizza?" Lynx nudged her chin to the restaurant two blocks from us. She squinted her eyes to the sign outside. "They're giving a discount. For every three boxes eaten by two people, you'll get another box free. Challenging." I pulled her arm toward that direction. "Pizza it is," she said.

  Have you heard of the guy who survived for 25 years and counting with nothing but pizza? If you haven't, there was the world wide web to introduce you to his awesomeness. I myself loved pizza, so in a way I understood why he could go on for so long eating nothing but that. As it was, the Roth's, cough- my mother- cough, adhered to a strict healthy regimen of exercise and balanced meals, so I couldn't change my diet if I wanted to. But I was reminded of how much I liked a good slice when Lynx and I entered the pizzeria.

  Back when I followed Joe for the research, I was so focused on making the study that I haven't had time to enjoy the pizzeria that we went to. Here with Lynx, having free time in my hands, I took the novelty of inhaling deep when we went through the doors. The aroma made me drool. There was tomato, bacon, garnishes of different types, cheese, and so forth. Part of me was doing this glaring description to tantalize you, my reader. Another part was because I was at ease and was happy enough to share the experience.

  "Two boxes please," I said to the man behind the counter. "She'll take the bill." Lynx stared incredulously at me, which ended with a shake of her head as she reached for her pocket. I sauntered to the table that gave me the best view of the bricked oven. When Lynx came to, she had a bottle of water for each of us. "Thanks,' I said. "Have you been here before?"

  She removed the seal from her bottle and sat across from me. "Yes," she said.

  "How about your grandma?"

  "She prefers eating Gerber. She loves those stuff. They don't have it in the grocery stores where she lives, so she's forcing me to buy her some when she's around, or asks me to send it through package." So those were for grandma. I thought they were for a kid she had out of wedlock or something. Maybe the snow globe was for grandma too. Lynx hung her arm on the backrest of the chair next to her. I should take advantage of this.

  "Where exactly does your grandma live?" I said.

  She was opening her mouth, readying her answer, when two boxes of steaming hot pizza were placed in front of us. Wrong timing. "Two for two gorgeous ladies," the server said. I smiled and gave him a discreet vibe that I wanted him to go. He didn't get my hints. The bloke took his time gazing at us.

  Lynx noticed my scowl. "We'll call you if we need anything else. Thank you," she said to the server, effectively dismissing him. She opened a box. "Dig in." The smell was too awesome to ignore. I reached for my share giddily, remembering my own needs.

  The first bite was absolute heaven, what with the stretchy cheese and extra hotness in my mouth. The second bite was delicious. By the time I've sniffed three slices, Lynx was looking at me in a peculiar way that I had to wipe my mouth with tissue, thinking I had hot sauce all over it. She was still looking. "What?" I said.

  "Where do you put all that food?" she asked.

  I crumpled the tissue. "I have a fast metabolism. My best friend and I also exercise a lot. And if you count all the walking I do for the research, I'm burning more calories than I consume."

  She reached for a second slice. "That study you've been making. I understand that it has a significance to the society, but how do you personally feel about it? Why is it important to you? Drop the crap about wanting to help people for a minute here and enlighten me."

  "I'll answer that if you tell me first why you have creepy plastinated humans in your house," I said.

  "Fair enough." She flipped her hair back. The movement exposed her neck and seemed so cool coming from her. I blinked a couple of times, wanting her to do it again. What was I thinking? She wasn't a dog. "I'm interested in them," Lynx said, bringing us back to the topic. "The human body and mind are very intricate. What you saw in the house wasn't the real deal. They're made from wax to resemble the originals." It was a huge relief to find out that those weren't dead bodies on her second floor. I'd be uneasy thinking she had her own collection. "It's your turn to answer." Mine? I haven't really thought about the personal meaning of my study aside from the need to help and honoring my brother's beliefs. "Well?"

  I tossed the tissue aside, realizing that I've been holding on it for too long. "I haven't completely made my mind on it," I began. "Maybe it roots to my obsession on making people understand themselves."

  She pointed her pizza at me. "And you think you understand yourself well enough to push that concept to people?" she said.

  "Well don't you?" I retorted.

  "With myself, at some levels, yes. But as for you. . . I don't think you fully comprehend yourself yet, Scotland." I raised an eyebrow at her. That was such a rude thing to say. "Don't take this as an offense," she added. "I'm just stating my observations."

  I crossed my arms. "But who are you to observe me?" I said. "If you think you know me better than I do with myself, give me something I don't know and I'll let you slap my butt around anytime you wish." The old couple on the next table turned to look at us, but I didn't pay attention to them. Lynx w
as pissing me off again.

  She casually put hot sauce on her pizza like we weren't discussing my life. Maybe it was to buy her time, but maybe she was annoying me more because of it. "You know the reason behind your competitiveness?" she asked.

  "What about it?" I said edgily.

  "If you base it on previous studies, you'll know that both competitiveness and selfishness are innate to humans, sometimes one greater than the other. It depends on genes, the environment where a person grew up in, and the advantages competitiveness can give. With you, however, it has largely to do with your need for getting out of your family's shell."

  I pushed the pizza box away. "I thought you didn't know anything about my family. Are you admitting that you do now?" I said.

  She shook her head. "I don't have to know anything about your parents in order to understand. You've been putting them as a front when we're together, asking me if I was sent by the competition. I'm guessing you came from an affluent family. Like anyone in your standing, you've always received praises because of your last name, not because of your own ability as person. You're both proud and ashamed. Proud because they see you as a high member of the society. Ashamed because you're great whether or not you're rich, and therein lies your need for competition. You want to show people what you're made of."

  My longing to eat, my gusto with pizza, gone with her explanation. Fact was, she was right. I wouldn't admit it to anyone, to Casper, Lulu, even myself. Lynx had hit the jackpot, and she wasn't even betting. I left the table and the restaurant, all without a word.

  Lynx caught up with me outside. She grabbed my arm and swung me to face her. "What?" I snapped. "Aren't you happy that you won in your house? Do you have to ruin my appetite too?"

  Regret crossed her features. "No, I was only making my point," she said.

  "Well I'm glad you've made yours, Lynx, because frankly I'm tired of arguing with you, and I hope you want to stop there. It's like—"

  She grabbed my hand and wrapped our fingers around each other. It was an effective way to stop me from talking. I stared at her, numb, questioning, my exasperation disintegrating like wine spirit leaving an open bottle. "Let's go home," she said. The game was still on, apparently. Master and servant. The warden and her unwilling prisoner. I followed her like a lost puppy.

  Chapter 23

  I've held many people's hands. Lulu's were the same size as mine, soft and moisturized thanks to the lotion she applies. Casper's was a bit callused. It was mainly because of sports, but he also like volunteering in community outreach programs, so that's why his hands were rough. With Lynx, it wasn't so much as the physical aspect of it- the softness, warmth, the slimness of a pianist fingers that she possessed. It was more of the emotional response I got from holding her.

  It was like petting a tiger, or a lion, or to give a more apt description, a feral lynx in the jungle. A fraction of me was amazed that a magnificent creature from the wild had so openly sought my company. There was novelty in it, as one would get when accomplishing a dangerous feat. Another fraction of me was cautious, waiting for the animal to rear its head and bite. One could never be too sure with their kind. They would eat their master if caught at a bad time.

  I shifted my gaze from her to the side street, determined not to let the strange emotions affect me. I took note of anything normal, like how it became cooler compared to when we left her house, and the gentle way the wind touched my face. Overhead, the sky was orange and midnight blue, with the sun waving its final goodbye on the horizon, about to fall asleep. Furthermore, what was once a relatively silent street was now filled people, hungry and thrilled that the workday was coming to a close in order to give way for the fun of the night.

  I noticed that most of them were not only group of friends, but men and women clasping hands like Lynx and I were. My back turned rigid at the realization that at present, the outside world was viewing us as a couple, happy in love, probably on our way to a movie. I have never been hit with such a sense of overwhelming astonishment. Usually, I didn't care for these things.

  "Are you still angry at me?" she asked, breaking my thoughts. It was perplexing how she picked up on these subtle cues.

  I shook my head. The lively environment has cleared my mind. Besides, to stay angry for long was to waste precious time in other things. "Can we drop by another restaurant before going back?" I said. "I want to order something for my friend. Anything you can recommend around the area will do. Lulu is not picky with food." Considering the level of her cooking, Lulu would appreciate anything I give her. If I could recall right, she prepared a sickly green bone marrow soup for us on the first week here. Eww.

  Lynx took us to a Vietnamese restaurant that served pho. For those of my readers who haven't eaten or heard of that yet, it was a noodle soup with broth, meat, and herbs. Kind of like what your mom would prepare when you were sick, except with a Vietnamese kick.

  Going inside the restaurant that Lynx took me to was getting transported to that time and place when Casper, Lulu, and I were in Vietnam, enjoying soup with the locals. The old lady who sold them scolded us because we were taking too long to order. Vietnamese was one of the many languages that I haven't mastered.

  Lynx, meanwhile, didn't seem to have a problem with it because she spoke in perfectly practiced Vietnamese to the waiter. When the latter left, she turned to me and said, "I went ahead and ordered the takeout. I always go here. Their specialty is the chicken noodle soup." I didn't mind the help, but it made me more curious about her.

  "You know a lot about languages," I said, setting the menu aside. "It gives me the impression that you've traveled a lot. Thinking back, didn't you answer the questionnaires I gave before in different languages?" I waited for the first sign of a lie. It would be fun catching her for once. She'd always been ahead of the game between the two of us. It was an insult to my competitive self.

  "I did," she confessed. "But you think too highly of me. Anyone can go to the internet to have a few words translated. Maybe I did that to irritate you." Maybe. A person from the counter signaled for Lynx to come. "Excuse me." She stood. "I think the order is ready, and I want to say hello to the owner."

  We were both consumed in our thoughts as we left the restaurant; She with a brown paper bag on her hand, me with an edge of a smile on my lips. The walk to the house was fast. I watched patiently as Lynx set aside the vase and undid whatever she tinkered with before leaving earlier. She then took her key, fit it in the small key hole, and opened the door. When we were back inside and she had locked the knob, the small smile I had, turned to a full-blown grin.

  "Let's tweak the entertainment a little, shall we?" I said. "I want a full tour of the house. By the end of it all, I'll give a guess."

  She put the paper bag on the table. "How is that different from our game before? It sounds the same to me."

  "No, no, no, no," I said quickly. "This is a onetime big time guess. It means the stakes are higher. You can choose a better punishment than just three slaps on the butt."

  "Such as?"

  "I don't know. You choose. If I win, in addition to the interview you promised, just so we're not forgetting about that, you will wear a sign around your neck for three months when going to the Midnight Cafe saying that Scotland is the winner, and Lynx is the loser." Childish, I know, but satisfying on my end.

  "Deal," she said without breaking a stride. "If I win, you will clean the whole house twice a week and be my personal maid for three months. Shake on it?" She held out her arm. The offer was mortifying. Imagine me as a maid. Regardless, I wasn't playing to lose. It was all about winning, and I had a good feeling about this. Our palms met into a firm shake. Lynx's eye twinkled as she motioned to the hall. "Right this way please."

  More sculptures were displayed as she lead me to a narrow hall that I haven't passed before. It was like touring a portion of a gallery in The Louvre, the Smithsonian, or Lulu's personal favorite, the Tate, which has always given Casper the willies, especially if you factor
ed in the huge spider made of steel displayed on the lobby.

  One sculpture on the hallway made me stare in awe, not that I haven't seen its likes before, but because it was crafted as well as the ones in any museum. Made of clay, it showed of a frustrated woman embedded on the wall, as if it was meant to cross but was stuck halfway and couldn't get through. "Is this an original?" I asked Lynx. "Who made all of these?"

  "A close friend."

  I touched my chin. "What's her inspiration? Artists always had those right?"

  I caught sight of the weariness on Lynx's face before she ducked her head. "At the time of the sculpting, she was frustrated with her parents because they didn't want her to follow her dreams. She was stuck between wanting to make them or herself happy, hence the outcome of the art. Let me show you to the kitchen." She walked ahead, leaving me to ponder before following her.

  The kitchen had an 18th century theme. Everything was old yet glamorous, from the ten-seater wooden table, the candelabra displayed on top of it, to the pots and pans hanging on the rack. "Charming," I remarked.

  She leaned on the doorframe. "I rarely use it. Too much hassle sometimes. Have you arrived to a conclusion yet?" I took in the brick backsplash and the dainty teapots on the counter, and shook my head.

  With each room came a new revelation about her. If she wasn't lying about owning the house, then how come there was a plethora of things to see, as if several brains converged to create it instead of one? How could I unlock the mystery of her when she supplied me with more riddles than answers?

  Coming up to the second floor, Lynx lead me to a small projector room. Compared to what I've seen so far, it was the most normal and modern space here. I sighed in relief as I sat on the La-z-boy in front of the screen. "So you're a movie buff," I said. "That's not a guess by the way. Just trying to make conversation."

  "You can say that." She sat on the leather chair next to me and fished the remote from the arm rest. The black and white film that appeared on the projector showed a floating image of the Nosferatu, an ugly vampire that inflicted a deep sense of fear in me as a kid, but Lulu had always loved. I groaned, remembering how I used to cower under the covers after watching it, until Lulu and Casper would be forced to sleep on the same bed. So many years ago, but it still gave me the same creeping feeling. I stopped clenching my hand when Lynx turned to stare. "Scared?" she asked.