Gina looked directly at her, her blue eyes seeming to search Val’s face. “Maybe I can,” she said, “once in awhile.” Then she suddenly stopped in her tracks. “Well, here’s my bank. See you later.” She waved goodbye as she entered the front door of the bank building.
Val and Sam walked on. What a puzzle, Valerie thought to herself, not for the first time. Gina, she considered, was looking cute this morning in a casual way, tall and slender in her sweat pants, fleece jacket, and watch cap. She was always friendly at first, but seemed so reluctant to engage in any real contact. Val sighed. Well, maybe that was better. At least there wouldn’t be a repeat of her last roomer. On the other hand she couldn’t help but feel curious as to what was keeping Gina so isolated.
After depositing her paycheck at the bank Gina made her weekly trip to the post office to collect her mail. Today there were a few advertisements, a letter from her mom that had been forwarded from Tuscon, and the monthly envelope containing a bill. She stuck the letter in her pocket for later and then went through the now routine motions of writing a check, addressing an envelope, putting on a stamp, and posting the letter.
Outside, she walked to a nearby lunchroom and ordered a grilled ham and cheese sandwich, a Diet Coke, and a bag of chips. She sat alone at a small table with her drink and read the letter from home. Her mom sounded good, but her dad was on medication for high cholesterol. Farm diet, she mused. She had been remiss in not writing home sooner to tell them where she was. She wouldn’t give them a lot of detail—just let them know where she was living and that she expected to be moving to San Francisco soon to look for a teaching position. No point in worrying them about her problems when there was nothing they could do about them. She slipped her mom’s letter into her backpack and studied the bill she had received. She made a few math notations on the sheet of paper, shook her head, and sighed.
“Gina, your ham and cheese is ready,” the counter clerk called out.
She picked up her sandwich and ate at her table, occasionally glancing out the window at people walking along the sidewalk and traffic moving through the street.
She nibbled on her chips. This arrangement she had made with Valerie was becoming difficult. Val was pleasant enough but renting a room from her, while reasonable by itself, was costing a lot. Gina couldn’t fix food at the house but must eat all of her meals out. At first she hadn’t minded, but as time wore on and she had tried every little restaurant in the area, she was tiring of the fare. She wanted salads that would be healthy and she didn’t want to waste gas driving for miles to find just the right place to eat. If she treated herself to a nice meal out, she wanted to be able to take the leftovers home and enjoy them the next day.
Gina had hesitated, not wanting to say anything about her problem. Valerie had rented her a room when she first arrived in Eureka—when some people would not have—and had not demanded references. But Val’s strict house rules were becoming a nuisance. Gina wanted this confounded bill paid off as soon as possible and she needed every penny to do that.
“Man,” she whispered aloud, “I wish I could afford an apartment with a refrigerator and a little stove.” Visualizing herself in a little place of her own, she mused, “And maybe a TV set. A little television would be good, now and then, to forget about work.” She was beginning to chafe, feeling a lack of personal accomplishment. “Time is just passing me by. I’m getting older, and I’m not doing anything but working. Not the writing I want to do. No friendships. Nothing.”
Oh, well, she sighed, she’d figure something out eventually. Right now the issue was just getting through the day and through each job without any problems. She certainly couldn’t afford any difficulties.
Valerie’s lower back was complaining. She was stooped over in the storage closet off the garage sorting through a pile of boxes, hunting a waffle iron she was sure she had brought with her when she moved to Eureka. Unexpectedly, she came across an old hotplate and a porcelain teakettle that she hadn’t used in years. She grabbed the two and stood up, surprised that she had dragged them along with her from San Francisco instead of giving the items away to charity.
But here they were, kind of jumping out at her—mementos from her past with Doreen from a small walk-up apartment they had shared in the Marina District before they bought a condo. Looking at the blue teakettle and remembering when they had selected it together in a little shop near Union Square, she sighed wistfully. Then she suddenly thought of Gina. That girl had absolutely nothing to make her really comfortable in this house. Maybe, Val considered, she should let Gina use these things.
Just as she was weighing this idea, she heard the front door open. It was Gina, she knew, because Sam went bounding back into the house in search of her.
Valerie followed, carrying the hotplate and teakettle. “Oh, Gina,” she called out.
Gina stopped at the foot of the stairs. “Yes?”
“Hi,” Valerie said, feeling a bit embarrassed. “I just found this old hotplate and teakettle in the storage closet. I think the hotplate still works. If it does, would you like to have it in your room? It might be nice for you to be able to make yourself a cup of tea now and then.”
Gina pushed her glasses up on her nose, a curious little habit she had, and looked at the two objects. A small smile crossed her face. “Yes,” she said, the smile growing into a lopsided and enthusiastic grin. “Yes, that would be very nice. It would really help to be able to make some tea in the mornings, and sometimes at night before I go to bed.”
As she accepted the items Valerie held out for her, Gina added, “Thank you. I appreciate this.” She turned to go up the stairs, while promising, “And I’ll take good care of them.”
Warmed by Gina’s positive acceptance of her little treasures, Val suddenly wanted to do more. Ideas rushed to her mind. “I could maybe get a little refrigerator that you could use up there, too,” she suggested, before Gina could get away.
“That would be great, but it would be expensive for you. You don’t need to do that,” Gina called down as she climbed the steps. “You didn’t offer that and I certainly don’t expect it.”
Abruptly, Valerie had an insight. Her house rules must be very hard for Gina. Maybe a compromise was in order.
“Well, I can’t do it right away, but if I can I will,” she said. Then, surprising herself, she added, “Meanwhile, I have a big refrigerator in the kitchen. It’s not overly crowded. I could make some room on a shelf for you, so if you want to bring something home, like leftovers, or keep a soft drink or something, you could use it.”
From the top of the stairs, Gina appeared taken aback. For a second Val thought she saw a tear form in the corner of her eye. “You don’t need to do that, but it would be very nice. Thank you very much. I won’t have a lot. And I won’t overdo it, believe me.”
Valerie heaved a nervous sigh. “Well, I’ll clear a place. You can put things in there. You’ll recognize the spot.”
“Well, thank you again,” Gina said as she turned toward her room. “I’ve got to rest for a little while before I go to Ritchie’s.”
“Okay,” Valerie acknowledged. “See you later.”
Val walked out to her studio and sat down before her painting project. Be careful, she told herself, keep your boundaries intact. Although she could feel her stomach churn, she did believe she had done the right thing. “Gina isn’t like Debra,” she said aloud to herself. And truly Gina had not taken advantage in any way since moving into Val’s house.
Gina held the hotplate and teakettle carefully, pushing open the door to her room with her foot. Entering, she placed the little appliance on top of the bookcase. There was a wall plug in just the right location to hook up the hotplate. She prayed that it would work. It wasn’t the teakettle that was most important. She had other ways of heating water. But if the hotplate worked, she could warm up other things. She could get a little saucepan and heat soup or make hot chocolate.
She plugged it in and punched the “on” bu
tton. The hotplate immediately began to heat.
Gina heaved a sigh of relief. This would be very good. It would make her life easier and also save her much needed money.
And if Valerie did allow her to use the refrigerator, that would be even better.
She closed the door and stretched out on the bed. Maybe she wouldn’t have to move to another place after all. She didn’t really want to go. Generally, this place was fine. She was chilly sometimes and the hardwood floors could be cold on her stocking feet in the mornings, but that wasn’t important enough to cause her to move someplace with carpeting. Unlike Arizona, Eureka was almost never hot—or so she had been told—and just about anyplace she would live around here would probably feel chilly by comparison to Tucson.
Overall it was pretty good here. She was lonely, but she would be lonely anywhere. And she would stay lonely until that damnable debt was paid off. No way was she going to pursue a close relationship while dragging around that kind of baggage.
Meanwhile she had her computer, her books, and her music—and they would have to be enough.
Her mind wandered back to Valerie. Gina was relieved that Val seemed to be relaxing a bit. Maybe she had a good reason from the past to protect herself. Whatever it was, something had made her rather inflexible. Yet sometimes she could be very nice. And attractive, too, Gina considered, realizing that she hadn’t thought much about it before. A smile crossed her lips. Yes, attractive—medium tall, with that honey blonde, shoulder-length hair and a full figure. Beautiful hazel eyes that sparkled with intelligence. Gina grinned to herself thinking of Valerie. Then she frowned. Val was older by maybe 15 to 20 years and much more stable with a house and a nice car. There was just too much separating them to allow for any feelings of attraction. And Gina wasn’t going to pursue any relationship right now, least of all with someone at such a different place in life.
With a resigned sigh she reached for her CD player and headphones on the floor beside the bed and put on some music. Anne Murray, soothing. She listened to Anne’s crooning and was soon asleep.
The next few days zipped by for Valerie because her latest painting project kept her occupied beyond the demands of her job and the hours she devoted to Sam.
Another gray, rain-filled week—an emotional downer that reduced Sam to pacing the floor and whining, which she seldom did—somehow seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. Val had been true to her word and had left some space in the refrigerator. Gina had cautiously placed a few items there on the clearly designated shelf but was careful not to overload the space. Valerie had noticed some jelly, butter, and a six-pack of English muffins in the refrigerator and had gotten used to seeing them there. They didn’t multiply and she began to relax. Gina was obviously not taking advantage, and Val began to wonder if she had been overreacting to her experience with Debra. Maybe there was no real reason to hold Gina at arm’s length, other than the fact that Gina was also holding her at a distance as well.
So on the next Saturday morning, an unusually fine day with tiny wisps of white clouds and warm sunshine, Valerie took Samantha for a long stroll along the waterfront. “Hey, Sam,” she said to the retriever as they walked, “isn’t it good to be outside again?” Sam merely wagged her tail. Wondering about Gina, Val steered Sam past the music store. As luck would have it, their timing was perfect. Gina again came out with her week’s paycheck. Seeing Valerie and Sam, she waved, crossed the street, and joined them.
“We’re out for a long walk this morning, because it’s so nice today,” Valerie said. “Sam has been too cooped up this winter so we’ve got to stretch out our walks, for both of our sakes. Do you have time to join us?”
Gina looked thoughtful for a moment, glanced at her watch, and then said, “Sure, I’ve got a little while.”
“Good,” Valerie said. Sam wagged her tail as if she understood the conversation and the three of them strolled on together. Old Town early in the morning was usually quiet, before all the art galleries, antique stores, and other shops opened. The cars and the pedestrians would arrive a bit later in the day.
“I like this time of year,” Gina said as they walked up one street and down another. “The spring is always so hopeful, filled with new beginnings and the promise of nicer weather.”
“Yes,” Valerie agreed. “If it were this beautiful all the time, Eureka would be a metropolis. Maybe it’s better that it is so chilly and wet here so much of the time. We get clean air and we’re not overrun, like in the big cities.”
Gina nodded. “I didn’t always feel that way about spring in Arizona, because the summer came after and it was always so terribly hot. Winters are great there, but it’s unbearable from mid-May to nearly October.”
“You told me, right, that you are not originally from Arizona?” Valerie questioned.
“Oh, no, I’m from a small farm town in Illinois,” Gina explained. “I’d probably still be there, in my overalls in the corn fields, if my mother hadn’t been a school teacher who pushed me to get an education and move beyond the limits of our rural life.”
Val smiled to herself. Well, there was a good reason that Gina, with her wisps of hair dangling from a ponytail and her big glasses, looked a little like a Midwestern hayseed.
“So you were a good student, I gather,” Valerie suggested.
“Yes, especially in English. I wasn’t so hot in math or science, but I really loved literature. I read several books a week from our little town library. And thanks to Mom I got a scholarship to the University of Illinois. Then I went to the University of Arizona for graduate school.”
“You were planning to teach?”
“Yes, English lit. I got my doctorate in it.”
Valerie was taken aback. “My, that’s impressive,“ she exclaimed. Then she paused for a moment. “But you aren’t teaching now.”
Gina’s face clouded. “Well, some things happened that got me off track. I may teach someday, but I had to let it go for a while.” She frowned and visibly withdrew into herself, crossing her arms and staring down at the sidewalk.
Valerie sensed that she should change the subject. “I’ve always lived in California,” she admitted. “I grew up in the Bay Area, went to school there, had my jobs, and started painting, as a hobby at first, in the city. I’d never known anywhere else until I moved here.”
Gina looked at her in surprise. “San Francisco is so beautiful. How could you leave?”
“Well, something got my life off track, too.” Val paused a moment, considering how much she wanted to risk sharing. “My life partner,” she finally said, “Doreen Hawkins, died of cancer a year ago. We were together for nearly 20 years, and it tore me apart to watch her go through all the chemo and radiation treatment. Her hair fell out and she lost weight until she was skin and bones. Then she was gone.” She swallowed a lump in her throat and looked toward Humboldt Bay, trying to mask the tears that instantly filled her eyes when she thought of Doreen.
Gina was quiet for a long moment. “That’s really sad,” she offered finally.
“Yes, it was,” Valerie agreed, wiping away a tear and pulling herself together. “Everything in San Francisco somehow related to Doreen, every place we had enjoyed together. After a while I couldn’t stand it. It was like having my heart cut out of me, whether I stayed home with all the memories there or went out anyplace. After six months of agony I sold the condo and moved here—still along a coast, still in California, but in a very different environment. I felt I needed to start a new life, with nothing here to remind me.”
“Wow,” Gina said. They were both silent for a moment.
Finally Valerie asked, “I hope it isn’t uncomfortable for you, my being a lesbian?”
Gina shook her head. “Oh, no, I’m—.” She stopped and looked away. Then she continued, “No, it’s not a problem. I’m just sorry you lost your partner. A loving relationship of 20 years is rare, straight or gay, and to lose it that way is very unfortunate.”
They walked along without spe
aking. Sam padded along between the two women, looking from one to the other and seemingly checking them out. They had arrived at the Boardwalk overlooking the bay and the marina. The two stood by the railing, staring out at the water as it lapped against the shoreline in a light breeze.
Valerie suddenly chuckled. “A Ph.D. in English lit. I can’t get over that. You must have been really young when you got your doctorate,” she noted.
Gina nodded and smiled ruefully. “26. I was just about the youngest person on the platform when I graduated,” she said. For a second her face lit up with obvious pride in her accomplishment.
“Too bad,” Valerie observed, “that you can’t be using all that education instead of slaving away at all these menial jobs.”
Gina frowned again and swallowed. “Yeah.” She hesitated, took a deep breath, and glanced up and down the Boardwalk cautiously, as if checking to see if anyone could be listening. Then she grabbed the railing tightly for a long moment, her fingers pressing against the wood until her knuckles turned almost white. She glanced at Valerie briefly and then looked away. Finally she shrugged, as if forcing herself to relax, and spoke. “I don’t talk about this often, but after I got out of grad school and was putting in applications for teaching positions I had an upsetting experience, which led to, sort of, well—” she paused and then blurted out, “kind of a nervous breakdown. In all honesty, I had probably been headed in that direction for a long time, but school sometimes holds you together—the structure and definite goals.”
Her face twisted for a second in obvious pain. Valerie waited, not knowing exactly what she should do or say.
Gina then swallowed and began to speak again. “Anyway, after I fell apart and was in the hospital for a short time I had to go into heavy therapy. I didn’t feel strong enough to teach. It’s too demanding, getting up in front of a class, having all those students focused on you. I was jittery and scared. I felt very much exposed somehow, like everything about me was written all over me for everyone to see. So I had to work jobs that didn’t demand so much until I got things straightened out in my head.” Her hands gripped the railing again.
North Coast: A Contemporary Love Story Page 5