by Pat Spears
“Sorry, shug. I’m gonna need a new fork if I’m to have any of that pumpkin pie.” Teddy squeezed the bent prongs of her fork between her thumb and index finger. “Some better, but it’s bound to stay a cripple.”
Jodie couldn’t imagine the secretiveness that went with such a union. Teddy was Ted to Maxine’s kids? How could that possibly work? Left alone to make sense of Jewel’s lies, even the purposeful ones, Jodie had created her own versions of the truth. Surely Maxine’s kids were doing the same.
Late afternoon, when it was time for Maxine and Teddy to leave, Teddy placed the overflowing basket of leftovers in the trunk. She and Maxine got into the car and drove away, everyone waving.
Jodie watched until the vehicle disappeared from sight, and she was acutely aware of a change, a new sense of self. A lightness of spirit she’d not felt before. Maxine and Teddy, with all their heartaches, had shown her a glimpse of what she wanted to believe queer love could be.
Crystal Ann sat on the trailer steps and patted the space next to her. Jodie sat, and Crystal Ann placed her hand on her knee.
“I know today was a lot to take in. And that getting comfortable with our lives is never easy. It takes living queer to understand who we are.”
Jodie nodded.
“You’re not to trust every queer woman you meet. There’s meanness and betrayal among us as with everyone else. Choose carefully, but know those two are good clear through to the bone. I trust my life to them.”
“How’s that?” She wanted to know more about what Crystal Ann expected from those she trusted. Had she thought of Brenda that way?
“Those you decide to trust,” she paused, “they’ll have your back. Keep your secrets to their graves.”
Jodie considered all she’d heard and seen from Maxine and Teddy and slowly nodded. She favored Maxine’s gentle ways over Teddy’s explosive nature, yet Teddy reminded her of Maggie’s gruffness, and there was no one she trusted more.
While Crystal Ann napped, Jodie prowled the nearby woods, returning at sundown. Crystal Ann had warmed leftovers, and when they’d eaten, Jodie offered to do the few dishes.
Crystal Ann disappeared into the bedroom, and when she reappeared, she had changed into a body-hugging skirt and a gypsy blouse, and she wore heels. She swirled about, giggling and showing off her good legs.
“How ‘bout it, Jodie Taylor? You ready for your first visit to dyke paradise?” More nervous giggles escaped Crystal Ann’s brightly painted lips.
Likely she had her own doubts, Jodie decided.
“Given my acquaintance with those who believe their tickets have been punched, I’ll need to know more about this paradise before I can decide.” Her hands had begun to sweat, and it was clear her stab at humor stunk. She jammed her hands beneath her armpits, her body swaying in rhythm with her mounting anxiety.
“Aw, baby, come here.” Crystal Ann reached for Jodie’s hand, and drew her down to sit next to her. “A first glance, it’s nothing more than a bar populated only by women.”
“I’ve never been to a bar of any kind. But I’ve been around lots of drinking. Don’t much care for how liquor smells.”
“Think of it as a secret gathering place for women seeking other women. There is drinking, and for some far too much. Then we laugh, cry, comfort, flirt, love, fuck, break hearts, and plot revenge.” She smiled, “And if that elusive bitch, Lady Luck, smiles on us, we find a good woman who plucks our magic twanger. Then we pair up, lay claim, and hold on for dear life. Which doesn’t make us all that different.”
Jodie felt a surge of the purest exhilaration wrapped in a blanket of nearly unbearable panic. While she could not imagine approaching a woman for more than conversation, she wanted to become one of the brave women she only imagined who sought and won the favors of beautiful women.
“It’s all of this, and much, much more.” Crystal Ann stroked Jodie’s forearm. “It is a sacred trust.”
“Does that mean this place is safe?”
“No, and you must bear that in mind. Safety is just the risk we accept … woman to woman.”
Crystal Ann stared into Jodie’s eyes, and maybe she saw what she needed to believe. Jodie knew that she did.
Twenty-Three
A series of backcountry roads took them north out of Dallas County, and Jodie listened as Crystal Ann told of the fabled Gabby, the owner of the Hide and Seek. She described her as a big butch with the arm strength to ass-whip Tarzan and the smoothness to win Jane’s heart. After a decade in New Orleans’s French Quarter, she returned home to claim her inheritance: eighty acres of virgin timber and a dilapidated building.
On the third Saturday of each month, the Hide and Seek became the destination of queer women within a hundred-mile radius.
“Rumor is Gabby buried her grandpa, the old geezer she’d called the grand son-of-a-bitch, in his Klan garb, sniping that it was only fitting that he arrive in Hell suitably attired.”
Jodie could not know whether there was an ounce of truth in what she’d heard. Still, she marveled at such a feat, choosing to believe the story in its entirety.
They left the highway and drove on an unmarked, jaw-jarring dirt road for several miles before making a hard left onto a barely discernible tire-worn trail that ended in a small clearing. A squatty cement block building stood partially hidden beneath the sweeping branches of an ancient live oak. At the outer perimeter of the clearing, Crystal Ann backed the Rambler into the underbrush, declaring it reduced the chance of getting boxed in by slow moving escapees should a sudden need arise.
If Crystal Ann intended her remark as reassuring, it wasn’t. Until now, worries about how she would fit in had dominated Jodie’s thoughts, but Crystal Ann had given her a much bigger worry.
Crystal Ann downed a hefty slug of Jim Beam and tucked the bottle back beneath the seat. “Hard liquor’s not allowed inside. Somewhat of a drawback if you ask me. Then, nipping doesn’t count, as long as the nipper comes and goes under her own steam.”
Crystal Ann stared into the mirror, reapplied her bright red lipstick, fluffed her unremarkable brown hair, and frowned at her reflection. She turned to Jodie, her smile strained.
“Okay, sugar, let’s me and you rock and roll.”
Jodie got out of the truck. A quick sniff of her armpits, and she wished she’d had a cleaner shirt. She ran her fingers through her hair, and the cold air felt good on her flushed cheeks.
There were no outdoor lights, and they made their slow, deliberate way along a footpath among an erratic formation of vehicles whose owners didn’t appear to share Crystal Ann’s inclination toward a quick getaway. The path led them to a purple door, its paint blistered and flecked off in chunks. A single yellow light hung over the entrance.
Jodie noted that the glass panes of the windows on the building’s front were painted over in black, permitting only the slightest light framing the window’s edges. The low rumble of pulsating music was audible from inside the building.
Crystal Ann rang a bell and stepped back, tugging at her tight skirt. Frowning, she grumbled, “This damn thing’s not one bit happy unless it’s crawling up my ass.”
Jodie hoped Crystal Ann’s frown was all about the hitch in her skirt and not that she was second-guessing her decision to bring along a first-timer.
“Gabby bribes county officials. Then, she can’t rule out locals stumbling onto the place, figuring to crash the joint, forcing their own sick brand of fun.” She patted her heavily sprayed hair. “But it’s all right, you’ll see.”
Jodie peered into the darkness, listening for sounds that didn’t belong. Her muscles tensed, but she heard nothing over the music and the tempo of her racing heart.
The door opened the width of a short, heavy chain. Light and the sound of music poured through the opening, and a partial face appeared.
“Hey, darling, it’s Crystal Ann. And I’ve brought along a friend.”
The single eye disappeared. The sound of the chain disengaging, and the heavy
door flew open.
“Hey, there, pretty thing. Who’s your young rooster?” The woman had a face that would scatter little children.
Crystal Ann embraced the woman. “Her name’s Jodie. She’s good.” The woman looked her over, head to foot, and Jodie felt as though she’d had her tires kicked, hood raised, and was about to be taken for a test drive.
“Good and lucky if you ask me.” She turned to Jodie. “Come on in, gal, and grow your young self a wattle.”
The woman winked at Crystal Ann, and she squeezed Jodie’s hand, her expression reminding Jodie of the uneasy way Ginger’s mama had smiled when the preacher came for Sunday dinner and Ginger’s daddy had gone early to the sauce.
They picked their way among tight groups of women seated at mismatched tables—more women than Jodie had imagined in her wildest dreams. For the first time ever, she saw women dancing together. She feared her intense staring would pop her eyes clear out of their sockets. She felt a bit unsteady, and squeezed her eyes shut.
Crystal Ann paused to hug one woman and yet another, and clutched Jodie’s hand, encouraging her along, shouting her name over the noise. Most nodded nice enough, but there were those who stared the way Teddy had, sizing her up, for exactly what she wasn’t sure.
“Hey, sweetness.” A woman, her pink scalp showing beneath her cotton candy–like hair, grabbed Crystal Ann around the waist, drawing her to sit across her thick thighs. Jodie judged the woman to have done her share of heavy work.
“Got you a young one, but is she naughty enough to satisfy your appetite?” She buried her face between Crystal Ann’s breasts.
Crystal Ann threw her head back, pretending a sensual moan, and cradling the woman’s washboard face between her palms, she kissed her.
“No one does it better than you, Miss Doris.”
“Oh, baby girl, you’ll always have a place in my old heart.” The woman’s voice was wet with emotion.
Those nearby cheered and clapped, and Jodie felt an odd bout of jealousy toward the old woman’s intimacy and those who’d cheered her. Still, she didn’t know what to make of what she’d witnessed: women openly engaging each other, easily joking about their sexual desires. She was both astonished and aroused by their brazenness.
They made their way across the room to the bar, Crystal Ann explaining, “The woman back there is seventy-nine. Poor thing lost her soul-mate of forty-seven years last September. She isn’t likely to get over it in this lifetime.”
Jodie understood Crystal Ann’s comment to mean Miss Doris, like Maggie or Miss Ruth under the same circumstances, would run out of time before she ran out of grief. Jodie was embarrassed by her earlier jealousy.
They reached the bar fashioned from the ripped length of a half-inch sheet of plywood and supported by carpenter’s sawhorses. Crystal Ann leaned across it and called to the woman elbow deep in a washing machine tub filled with chipped ice.
When the woman straightened to her full height, Jodie pushed back on the bar stool, unable to conceal her amazement. She could be none other than Gabby, a full six feet or better, weighing at least two thirty, maybe more. She was the second woman, after Lou Palmer, to cause Jodie to feel normal. The breadth of her smile matched her size, and when she opened her mouth to speak, Jodie braced for a voice equal to the roar of a hurricane.
“Hey, gal, damned if I hadn’t started to worry you’d jilted me for some skinny bitch.” Her voice was gentle as a receding tide licking sand.
“No, darling, you’re the only woman for me.” Crystal Ann’s face brightened, her come-on playful.
“Uh-huh, I know that’s right.” Gabby slid an icy Pabst along the bar into Crystal Ann’s open hand. “That one you got there with you even old enough to drink?” She placed a bowl of freshly popped popcorn in front of Crystal Ann. “Reckon I could gig around in that damn ice long enough to turn up an RC.”
“Not necessary. I’ll have what she’s drinking.”
Crystal Ann cut Jodie a look.
“It’s not exactly like I got raised by church-goers.” The swagger she’d intended fell limp like bird shit on her shoulder.
Gabby cocked her head to one side and a slow smile spread across her face. She reached and pulled a second beer from the tub and slid it along the bar. “First one’s on the house.”
Jodie fumbled a clean catch, recovered, and mumbled her thanks.
The big woman laced six beers between her broad fingers like cheap glass jewelry and walked toward the sound of her name.
Jodie sat, drinking the bitter beer in slow, measured swallows. There was everything soothing about the closeness of other women that slowed her heart rhythm, and she took her second deep breath since leaving Catawba.
When she’d begun to feel less conspicuous, she noticed the crowd noises building behind her and swiveled about, daring to search among the women for the one she’d imagined since arriving in Selma. She saw no one she preferred over Crystal Ann.
Jodie followed Crystal Ann to a table where they joined Teddy and Maxine. Jodie tried not to stare at Teddy, but she couldn’t get over her transformation from Ted to the Teddy sitting across from her. While Teddy wasn’t a woman Jodie could ever think of as pretty, just now she was softer, less harsh. Maybe what she saw were glimpses of Teresa, and Jodie contemplated the extent of Teresa’s compromise in becoming Ted.
Jodie watched as Teddy and Maxine took to the crowded dance floor. She envied the familiar way in which Maxine slipped into Teddy’s arms and Teddy’s surprising grace as she guided Maxine across the floor.
“How ‘bout it, Jodie Taylor, you want to dance?” Crystal Ann leaned and placed warm fingertips on Jodie’s cheek. Her closeness was such that Jodie felt the heat of her stronger than ever. She felt dizzy, deciding it was the effect of the beers she’d drunk.
“With you? Oh, no. I couldn’t.” Her face caught fire. “What I mean is … I don’t dance. Never learned.”
Crystal Ann stood next to Jodie, her hand extended. The women at the next table stopped talking among themselves and stared.
“Hell, gal, forget that pup. I’ll dance you right out that door into the back seat of my car.”
Crystal Ann twisted her butt at the woman. “Lord, darling, how many times I gotta turn you down? That bucket of bolts you call a car hasn’t even got a back seat.”
Their good-natured laughter spread to the next table, and Jodie eyed the door. She’d never danced with anyone other than Silas, and only when he’d gotten crazy and insisted on thinking of her as his girl.
“I’m not asking twice.”
“Okay, I’d love to, but I swear I don’t know how.”
“If you’ve got two good legs, and you do, then you can dance.”
Jodie stood, and Crystal Ann led her through the snickers and onto the dance floor.
“Forget them and follow me,” Crystal Ann whispered.
Jodie’s stiffness began to melt, and her two left feet found their rhythm. Dancing with Crystal Ann felt far more natural than she’d ever managed with Silas.
When they weren’t dancing, the four of them sat, polishing off pitchers of cold beer and consuming plates of barbeque. Jodie learned that Gabby’s famous pork had found its way into the governor’s mansion. Jodie laughed at the notion of a crowd of straight politicians chowing down on barbeque shared by women they would surely have arrested and thrown into jail. She remembered Sally ranting that Arthur’s uppity black ass would have been gone from the Wing if he were not the best cook in the county. Then, targets of hate made no sense.
Jodie pushed back, looked across the room, and soaked up the good she felt. Was she to find her place among these women? There was so much they could teach her about staying alive while living queer.
Twenty-Four
Jodie woke to her first alcoholic fog and fumbled her way into her uniform while Crystal Ann poured one cup of coffee after another. They reached Selma at five-forty, a virtual ghost town, streetlights weakened by the density of the fog. Crystal An
n parked the overheating Rambler and sighed relief at the old car having made it this far. Nearing the Wing, Jodie noticed that there was no light streaming into the alley from underneath the kitchen door, and Arthur’s car wasn’t parked in its usual spot.
“What do you think?”
“I’m thinking we’re not the only ones who had ourselves a little too much Christmas cheer,” Crystal Ann cracked, shoving her hands deeper into her coat pockets.
Jodie slowed. “Could be, but I’ve never known Arthur to be late.”
“He’s not exactly late. We’re a mite early.” She frowned.
Jodie vacuumed the ratty carpet while Crystal Ann made the day’s first coffee. Arthur still hadn’t shown, and Jodie began to worry until she remembered his trip to Albany, deciding he’d been delayed.
At six, Sally came charging through the door, the craziness in her eyes at a fever pitch. Jodie had never seen her wound so tight.
“Whoa down, boss lady,” Crystal Ann joshed. “What brings you in at this hour in such a state?”
Without looking her way, Sally yelled for Jodie to shut off the machine.
“I’ve got a shitload of trouble, that’s what.” She glared at Jodie, her eyes flinty, although she’d spoken directly to Crystal Ann.
“Uh-huh, and would that be ongoing trouble, or maybe you’re just pissed at Santa?” Crystal Ann glanced over at Jodie, and if she had a notion as to what had put Sally into such a nasty mood, she didn’t let on.
“Jodie, just what the hell did you call yourself doing, pissing off Chief? Raining grief down on me?” Sally’s eyes bore into Jodie.
“Wait a minute. I never invited that mess.” Jodie pressed her fists at her sides, her anger firing, overtaking her caution. “And … and if kissing his ass is part of this job, then I’m not your gal.”
Sally collapsed into a chair, her face resting in her hands, and mumbled between her fingers, “Lord, don’t I wish that was all there was to it.”
“What? What are you saying?” Jodie dropped the vacuum.
“Arthur’s dead. That’s what.”