When she did risk a glance at Josie, she saw that her friend was studying her with compassion. Gina swallowed and then went on with her story, forcing herself to look directly at Josie. “This woman, Dr. Reitman, was 17 or 18 years older than I am. I felt like I was in love with her, obsessed with her. I was panicked about my feelings. I wanted her sexually and that scared me too, since I was so terrified of being gay. Then, finally, after feeling all this stuff and not being able to act on it with her, I got really frustrated and angry. Gradually I turned toward other women. Women who were more like me and less overpowering. I guess that’s the way therapy works, but it’s awful to go through it.”
“So that’s why Valerie makes you uncomfortable, her age, I mean?”
“Kind of. It sounds stupid, and maybe it is, but that’s where I’m at right now. I want to be with an equal, someone more my own age. And there are good reasons for that, besides my kooky ones.”
“Yeah, I suppose, like having more things in common,” Josie admitted. “But Valerie is a real cool lady, don’t you think?”
Gina nodded. “Yes, she’s quite special. And pretty. ‘Zaftig,’ I think the German word is, soft and round and voluptuous—things I’ll never be. Beanpole, that’s what I am.” She winked at Josie. “And I admire her painting. I think she’s very talented.” She suddenly laughed with embarrassment. “But let’s talk about something else. What are YOU looking for in a partner? Or do you want a partner?”
Josie grinned. “Well, it would be a little awkward right now, having a partner.” She looked down at her leg. “But when I’m on my feet and school is over, I’d like someone to do things with. I guess I want a physical person, someone who loves the outdoors—hiking, kayaking, climbing. And of course, flowers. Got to be a flower lover.”
Gina chuckled. “Well, if you’re not into Sylvia Plath or Virginia Woolf, I guess we’ll never be lovers.”
Josie laughed. “Probably not. But you are becoming a friend, and I really do like you. Right now good friends are what I need most. As a friend, you have some great qualities.”
“Thanks,” Gina said, acknowledging the compliment, as her cheeks again turned pink. “And I think,” she added, “for me, right now, good friends are where it’s at. That’s why I feel so lucky that I saw Val’s name on the bulletin board at Humboldt State and that I came to this house, because doing that has led me to some good, very stable friends.”
They chatted for a while about less personal stuff. When Gina got ready to leave the room, she turned to Josie and whispered to her, “What I told you about the therapist—that’s between us, right?”
“Sure,” Josie replied, sounding very sincere. “I’m your friend. You can trust me.”
Gina stood at the kitchen counter at Ritchie’s, waiting for her next order. It was a slow evening and she was restless. Her mind wouldn’t stay focused. She hadn’t been this restless for a long time. It must have been the conversation with Josie. She worried that she had said too much. Spilling the beans about therapy, about those horrible months and, yes, years she had been under Dr. Reitman’s spell, was something she had planned never to do. She had so much personal shame about that time.
Yet, as she shouldered a tray of food to take to her customers, she admitted to herself that talking about it gave her a new chance to review the reality of the past and to consider whether she had put up unnecessary walls against other people because of it. Was age really an issue? Laura Reitman had been a very controlling person, and being a therapist permitted her to encourage her dependent clients to relinquish their control over their own lives. Although the psychoanalyst intended consciously to help her patients, she also could run their lives and she seemed to enjoy doing it. Yes, Gina thought, a transference, while painful for a patient, could be a power trip for the therapist. All that adoration—who wouldn’t, deep down inside, enjoy being the center of someone else’s universe?
With a warm smile Gina set the plates before a family of four and moved away from the table to resume her inner thoughts. She had also talked about relationships with Josie—and Valerie. That surprised her. Gina didn’t spend time thinking about relationships, partly because she was too busy. But was she avoiding something? And what would she personally look for, in a relationship? She knew that she needed someone who would appreciate her mind, her desire to write, and her sensitivities. Those qualities were certainly more important than how old a partner was. Yes, age had its issues. People of all ages often saw things differently, although not always. But age wasn’t the only thing. Maybe she should keep an open mind, allow herself to be open, when the time came. A good woman, whatever her age, could be a good fit in other, more important ways.
Gina finally let all these thoughts slide and got back into the swing of the job. A young couple and a family, including three small children, had just come into the restaurant and she had two new tables to serve.
The next Saturday evening at the theater, Rick sidled up to Gina while they were cleaning an auditorium. “Where have you been? We haven’t seen you at the Purple Priscilla in weeks.”
“Missed me, huh?”
“Yeah, I had all these beautiful dames lined up for you to check out, and you’ve been a no show. You’re giving me a bad rep.”
“Sorry,” Gina apologized. “I’ve been extra busy helping Valerie take care of our friend Josie. I just haven’t had the time or energy to get to the club. But things are getting better and I’m thinking of coming tonight. How’s that?”
“Great. I’ll see you later then.” He was off, whistling as he pushed his cleaning cart out of the auditorium.
Gina smiled to herself. Rick could be so over the top, but he was a good person at heart. And she needed some stress relief. It would be good to go to the Purple Priscilla again.
After the multiplex closed for the night, she changed into her street clothes, threw her uniform in the back of her car, and followed Rick over to Arcata. When they arrived at the bar, Eric and Paul were already there. They had with them a couple of young women. Types Gina would have called “bull dykes,” but when she talked with them they both seemed pleasant despite the tough exterior.
One of the two, P.J.—tall, dark, and dressed in leather—asked Gina to dance. Gina went out on the floor and quickly found that she had to assume the feminine role and allow P.J. to lead. Bull dykes, Gina decided, must be the “male” in any pairing. She felt a bit uncomfortable and stumbled over herself at first, but P.J. wasn’t all that bad a dance partner. The evening went well and was fun. Gina could not, however, help remembering the last time she was here, when she danced with Valerie. She couldn’t forget the electricity that had surged through her body when they touched.
Soon Josie had her walking brace and life at Valerie’s house began to normalize. Josie was able to get around more on her own and take care of her personal needs. She leaned on the support team less. Val could sense Lanie and Judee’s relief as their time helping was shortened and they could return to their own lives. Valerie knew she would miss Josie when she left, but Val was also well aware that she would be glad to get back to the quieter existence she had had before Josie’s accident. And back to her painting on a regular basis.
All things considered, Josie’s accident and recovery had turned out pretty well. She was going to be able to finish her semester at college, and her initial debt for medical care, while sizable, was being negotiated into a long-term payment plan. While more bills certainly would follow and she would be saddled with a large debt, she still would be able to go on with her life. Even her gardening customers, who had called during the weeks she was totally disabled, were staying loyal to her and promising work for her when she could return. “I’ll have a lot of weeds to tackle,” Josie groaned. It was now well into late spring and everything, especially weeds, had been growing in her absence.
When Josie, on crutches and aided by the flexible brace, was ready to go home they held a party at the house and everyone came. Judee brought wine, Lani
e chips and dip. They shared stories about how each had coped, stories that Josie couldn’t have enjoyed until she was feeling a lot better. They laughed, joked, and hugged. Valerie wanted to show Josie that life had not totally stopped during the past few weeks, so she invited them into the studio to show them a new painting she had managed to finish during Josie’s home care. They all “ooh’d” and “aah’d” over it.
The next morning Valerie loaded her Volvo wagon with Josie’s things and drove her back to her apartment.
“I don’t know how to thank you for all you’ve done for me,” Josie said, when they arrived at her little stucco apartment building.
Val smiled. “I won’t say it was nothing, because we both know it was hard work for everyone, but you are very welcome. You were the world’s best patient. I’m just glad to see you on your feet and on the mend.”
Josie’s roommate, slender and bespectacled Sarah Green, greeted them and helped Val bring in a couple of boxes of books and other personal items as well as two small suitcases full of clothes. Although Sarah hadn’t been free to spend too much time at Valerie’s house during the past few weeks, she did seem to care about Josie and Val thought Josie would be in good hands. Sarah had volunteered to drive Josie around town, until she was able to safely navigate her truck again. When Sarah couldn’t help out, the team would pick up the slack. “Thank goodness I didn’t break my right leg,” Josie had quipped when they made their plans, “and that I had the good sense to buy a truck with an automatic transmission.”
Josie stood at the front door of her apartment, leaning on crutches. She waved as Valerie pulled away from the curb, and Val felt a wave of relief that the worst of their trial was over. While Josie would require assistance for some time to come, probably several months, the recovery period at her house had ended. Val was glad of that. At the same time she was happy to have been able to help. Josie’s injury had provided a good opportunity for all of them to share and give to a friend. She thought the experience had brought all of them closer together, which was a good thing. She had been afraid they they would all get tired of pushing aside their own needs and doing for Josie. Especially Gina, whose work schedule was demanding and often kept her isolated. Yet she had contributed considerably. Val was learning yet again that Gina was not the lightweight that she had first thought when Gina landed on her doorstep.
Gina also heaved a sigh of relief when she waved goodbye to Josie at Val’s house. Her own life would be a bit simpler now. At the same time, she had to admit that she had grown from this experience and had actually enjoyed being a part of it. Four women with a common goal, no bitching or complaining, just pitching in and doing what was needed. It was the best experience she had ever had with lesbians, and she was beginning to find that beneath the bravado and occasional quirky habits and dress styles, these women were just people. Good people. Trustworthy people. Being phobic about women, lesbian women, was beginning to seem unreal to her, and these ideas and fears were gradually slipping away. This therapy out in the real world, and she knew all this was therapeutic, was more rewarding and felt a whole lot better than those hours spent with Dr. Reitman.
The inevitable bill in her mailbox the following Saturday also gave Gina new hope. Her therapy balance was now just under $1,000, an amount she had begun to think she would never see. Provided she didn’t have any other emergencies or car trouble, in a few months the bill would be paid off completely. Then she could plan her move to San Francisco. It was funny, she thought as she wrote out a check to the psychoanalyst and posted it in the mail slot, as much as she was excited about going to the City she also knew that she would miss Eureka—and all the people she had formed friendships with there.
Chapter Nine
Valerie sold a painting, her first significant sale since moving to the North Coast. The path to this major success began when Paulina Johansen, an attractive 40-something redhead, had posed for photos in the photography studio with her dog—a miniature schnauzer named Max—as a gift for her husband, Jim. When the proofs were ready, Paulina had come to the studio to decide which one to have printed and framed for her husband’s birthday.
“I thought I’d sneak in this morning,” she said pleasantly, pushing her sunglasses back on her head. “Jim is out on the boat and he won’t know I’ve done this.”
“You have a boat?” Valerie’s curiosity was aroused.
“Yes, a 50-foot sailboat. We’re just getting into the season where we can enjoy it. We’ve had the sloop in dry dock for the winter down in the Bay Area. Jim just sailed it up the coast and is now out testing the rigging, doing some fine tuning to get ready for the summer.”
“I love sailboats,” admitted Valerie. “I used to be fascinated just watching them glide by on San Francisco Bay.”
“Do you sail?” Paulina asked.
“Well, I’m not an expert. I have been out a couple of times, enough to know that I don’t get too seasick and that sailing is a lot quieter and more fun for me than power boating.”
“Yes, I agree with you. I’d never make a power boater, or a ‘stink potter,’ as they kiddingly say,” Paulina mused. “I’ll always be a ‘rag bagger,’ as the power boaters tauntingly call us sailors.”
They both laughed.
Valerie acknowledged that sailboats made good subjects for painting and that she had done watercolors and oils featuring sailing craft.
“I didn’t know you painted.” Paulina was surprised. But she expressed an interest and asked if she could see some of Val’s work. They made arrangements to get together, and Paulina came to the house the following week. Valerie showed her around her studio and pulled out several of her paintings for her to see. Paulina was clearly impressed.
“And here I thought you were just a photographer’s assistant,” she exclaimed. “Hiding your light under the proverbial bushel barrel, are you?” She thought for a moment and then added, “You should ask Lyn to display some of your paintings!”
Val’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “I never thought of that. I bet she would allow it. Thanks for the suggestion.”
Paulina chose one of the sailboat paintings, offered Valerie a very good price for it, and picked it up the next week. As she was loading the carefully wrapped painting into her silver Lexus SUV, she turned and smiled at Val. “My husband would like to meet you. I’ve raved so much about your work. Of course, at this time of the year, he’s totally involved with the boat. How would you like to come out for an afternoon sail one of these days?”
Valerie was taken aback. “That would be wonderful,” she said. She had always believed that people who had enough money to own luxury cars and boats were very selective about their guests, so she felt quite honored to be asked. Whether it would ever come to pass was another matter. California was famous for the “let’s do lunch” line, but lunch often never happened.
But Paulina seemed serious. As she climbed into the Lexus, she suggested, “The next time we are going out, I’ll give you a call. I’ll try to give you some warning, though. And please bring a friend.”
Despite Paulina’s seeming sincerity, Valerie allowed the offer to slip to the back of her mind, as one of those things that would probably never happen. When the phone rang the next Friday afternoon, she was quite surprised to hear Paulina’s voice on the other end of the line.
“Jim is planning to go out on the boat tomorrow afternoon,” Paulina announced. “The weather forecast is for a truly rare sunny day. It looks like it will be perfect for sailing. Are you free to come with us?”
Valerie thought quickly. She had no fixed plans for the weekend, just household chores that could wait. Her gang had not planned a poker party this week for various reasons.
“Yes, I think so,” she decided. “I would love to come along.”
Paulina gave her instructions to the marina and then told her what to wear for warmth against the ocean wind. “Don’t worry about bringing anything else. There will be plenty of food and beverages on board.
Valerie hung up the phone and considered the invitation. Bring a friend. Paulina probably meant a male friend, and she might be in for a surprise when Val showed up with a woman. Oh well, so be it. Her first choice would be Lanie, who was always a lot of fun. They hadn’t done much together, just the two of them, since Josie’s accident.
“What’s up?” Lanie sounded cheerful when she heard Valerie’s voice on the phone.
“I’ve just had a wonderful invitation to go sailing tomorrow.”
“Wow! How did you manage that?”
“Paulina Johansen, this woman I sold a painting to. She and her husband own a sailboat—a pretty big one, I think. She just called and asked me to go out on it tomorrow and said I could bring a friend.”
“Is that why you called, to invite me?”
“Yes, of course!”
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Lanie sounded really excited, but then her voice fell. “But wait, I’ve got a house to show tomorrow afternoon to this couple from San Diego. They seem really interested and will only be in town for the day. It could mean a big sale for me, and I can’t put them off. I’m really disappointed, but I can’t go with you,” Lanie said, sounding really down about it.
“I’m sorry, I would have loved for you to come.”
“Can you ask someone else?”
“I’m sure I’ll find someone, but I wish it could have been you.”
“Maybe next time. Don’t fall overboard, but have a good time and tell me all about it later!” Lanie could never stay down for long. “Bye,” she said, already bouncing back with her natural enthusiasm.
Valerie sighed and hung up. She called Judee, but she had the boys for the weekend and couldn’t get away. They had a softball game and she had promised to watch them play. Josie wasn’t steady enough on her feet yet to risk bouncing around on a sailboat. Besides she was just starting back to her gardening work. Saturday would be a very busy day for her, and she needed every penny she could earn.
North Coast: A Contemporary Love Story Page 14