by Aliyat Lecky
Helen’s choice of seating was strategic. She wanted Noami to see her. She hoped that by sitting there, Noami would spot her from where she was standing and come over. Yet she didn’t want to be too apparent. Angie was quite astute, and she knew Helen. Helen watched Noami from the corner of her eye while chatting with Angie, trying to decide what drinks to order. The two decided that since they were two chicks out on the town, they would splurge a bit and simply enjoy their freedom. Helen waved over the server with far too much enthusiasm to be simply after a beverage.
“Helen.” Noami was at the table before Helen and Angie had a chance to order a drink. “You came.” She stood next to Helen’s chair.
Helen looked sideways at Angie, who seemed oblivious to her ploy. Angie appeared not to have noticed the new arrival at all. Helen placed her hand over Angie’s.
“Angie, Noami. Noami, Angie, my best friend.” Helen swiveled in the seat to face each in turn. “Angie, surely you remember Noami.”
“Of course.” Angie trained her narrowed eyes on Helen’s hand rested on her own. For her part, Helen worked hard to still her trembling hand. So much was at stake. Only now was she beginning to realize exactly what that meant for her. She had to be sure.
“I’m happy you came. I told a few people you might show. They all want to meet you.”
Helen smiled at Angie as she spoke to Noami. “I’m not sure I’m up to that just yet.” She checked Angie’s expression again for any reaction that might suggest being in a lesbian club and running into the artist who had just been commissioned to paint her portrait was anything out of the ordinary. She could tell that, to Angie, her actions were completely transparent. There was something smug in Angie’s expression and in the way she held onto Helen’s quaking hand with only her thumb. The simple gesture was so much more.
Helen was nearly shaken from her chair when she realized that, by the way Angie glanced from her to the artist, that she was witnessing a dawn of understanding. She had figured her out. “Sit. Please, join us. I should tell you. I love the way you painted Helen. It’s just beautiful…even unfinished.” Angie’s tone was welcoming.
Helen hadn’t missed the suspicious undercurrent in her manner. Noami pulled a chair up close to Helen. She settled so near to Helen that the two sat shoulder to shoulder. Their arms brushed casually as they sat in close quarters. Helen didn’t attempt to put space between them. Angie watched them closely. Helen was certain that she would interpret this as confirmation for what she was surely thinking.
Once Noami and Helen agreed on a pick-up date for the painting, the three ladies sat making casual small talk as they waited much too long for their drinks. The club was growing more congested by the minute. Scores of women spilled though the doors of Bath’s Wife in search of merriment. The servers, while adept at navigating the gathering crowd, did not possess the skill of good service. They stopped often to chat with familiar cliques of acquaintances, often forgetting altogether the drink orders they had taken, which began to mount in growing number, ignored and abandoned on the bar counter. Knowing this, Noami eyed the counter expectantly, waiting for their drinks to hit the bar.
Angie misread Noami’s preoccupation with the bar with a yen to escape the table, and Helen. “When will we get to see the final masterpiece?”
“Soon.” Noami turned her attention back to the table. “It’s done. Helen only needs to pick it up.”
“Helen only needs to pick it up, eh?” Angie’s emphasis of Helen’s name was enough to verify for Helen that her dearest friend knew her too well. “And when am I going to see the final product, Helen?” She didn’t bother waiting for an answer. “Are you happy with the painting?”
Helen recognized that Angie was not at all interested in an answer. Angie was playing with her. She had probably realized that something was up when she saw Helen’s reaction to Noami when they first entered the bar.
“Mostly.” Noami answered the question meant for Helen. “I think it’s the favorite of those I’ve painted.”
“Really? Now that is interesting.” Angie looked playfully sideways.
Helen sensed she was feeling mischievous. At least Angie chose to be open to what was unfolding before her. She only hoped Angie would support her.
Noami turned her attention away from Angie to Helen. “You look great. Have you done something different to your hair? Oh, the drinks are ready. I’ll get them.”
“No. Let me.” Angie got up to push her way into the horde of undulating dancers, grooving along with them, and parting bodies along the way.
“Thanks,” Noami replied as she scooted her chair to allow someone to pass behind her on the way to the dance floor. She grinned devilishly at Helen. She had landed so close, their thighs touched. Helen liked the smell of the air between them. She inhaled deeply as their shoulders brushed intimately in a silent accord. The contact, mixed with the scent of musky perfume, elicited sensations and a stirring down her middle that urged Helen to settle into Noami’s shoulder. Noami’s scent enveloped her. Helen felt her breath on her neck, and leaned into its warmth. Noami had been consuming something saccharine that colored her breath sweet and sour. Her mood lightened from the dread she felt earlier. The longer she relaxed conversing with Noami about matters of little importance, the higher her spirits soared. All of her concerns seemed to slip away.
Noami filled her in on some of the current gossip floating around the club, and pointed to a woman standing in a corner, or another one seated at the bar, or else she motioned discretely at a couple moving together on the dance floor, connecting faces to stories. Helen listened intently.
Partway through the conversation, Angie returned to the table with the drinks, but paid only enough attention to advertise she wasn’t quite as interested as Helen was in the local gossip. Her interest laid elsewhere—the dance floor. Angie grew tired of watching Helen rub shoulders with Noami, their heads close, and lowered together in confidence. Though invested in Helen’s well-being, watching them hook up felt like such an intrusion.
She resolved that she was a third wheel, and had enough of being ignored as they explored each other’s boundaries. Angie recognized what was going on, and accepted the obvious connection as one of those chances that life offered. What Helen chose to do with the prospect was her business. With one long, meaningful look of support over her shoulder, she escaped to the dance floor, leaving her best friend to her own devices, and so she could encounter whatever it was she was about to discover without the presence of reminders of just what was at stake or what she was risking by clouding the water.
Helen hadn’t noticed that Angie had left the table until she spotted her on the dance floor moving with great enthusiasm in the midst of a bevy of women dancing wildly beneath the colored lights. Angie was dancing, but she was also watching them from across the room and quietly checking in.
She tried to imagine what she and Noami must look like, their heads together, from Angie’s perspective. Noami was flirting with Helen. Helen was flirting with Noami. They exchanged light touches of two people gently appraising each other. Noami made the first conciliation by linking her arm with Helen’s, pulling her closer still, and guiding her into her own intimate space. As Helen watched her best friend sway to the music, excited by the newness of the Friday night lesbian tradition, she suddenly realized Angie was much more engaged in returning the gaze and watching Helen as she began a new relationship, than dancing to the song.
She and Angie were best friends, but Helen was also the wife of her husband’s best friend. She was one of a foursome of best friends who had been a foursome for decades. Helen realized what Angie must have been thinking and she had to admit that Angie was correct. Helen was beginning a relationship that wasn’t within the purview of what her marriage to Richard allowed.
Later, Helen stood alone at the bar waiting to place a drink order. Angie and Noami had disappeared in the mass of bodies in motion on the dance floor. Angie having returned to the table to swoop Noami
to the dance with her. Every once in a while, Helen would spot the two with their heads together. They appeared to be engaged in the frivolous act of dance, yet the expressions on both their faces reflected a business more serious. Angie appeared to be giving Noami the third degree. Noami did not seem to mind.
“What can I get you, dear?” The African American woman from the coffee house stood before her. Prior to speaking to Helen, she had been engrossed in a conversation with a young woman who appeared to be listening intently and hanging on her every word. Her voice was low, resonant, and comforting. “How about a nice cold beer?”
Helen considered a nice cold beer. She hadn’t had one in years. Tonight was an evening of adventure, but not one for beer. “White wine spritzer, please.”
“Okay.” She turned away to make the drink.
Helen stood leaning against the bar, feeling a little nervous. Interestingly enough, she wasn’t nervous about her pursuit of Noami. Somehow, she had reconciled herself with what was budding between them. She was nervous because she was standing alone in a bar where she wasn’t acquainted with anyone other than Angie. Helen was unaccustomed to being a stranger in a room of friends. Typically, she was the hub in the wheel, the person who the room full of chattering people had in common. Not tonight.
“Here you are. A white wine spritzer. We don’t get call for this one too often.” She watched Helen take a sip. “How is it? Okay?”
“It’s fine. Thank you.”
“Let me know when you’re ready for your next.” She nodded, turning back to the young lady to whom she had been talking to when Helen walked up to the bar. “Sheila, you have got to let it go.”
Helen felt as though she was eavesdropping, yet there really was no place else to go. She was boxed in by people and bar stools.
“Listen, you have to let go and let God. You can’t spend your life trying to fulfill someone else’s dreams if that doesn’t fulfill your own. You have to be true to who you are. You have to live for you.”
By the look on her face, Sheila was not convinced she would be able to follow the advice she was given. “Mom, I know you are right. It’s just so hard. I’ll think about everything you said.”
“You do that, honey.” She watched the departing back disappear before turning back to Helen. “So confident.” She shook her head slowly before adding, “And so young.” She smiled to herself as if she had just discovered a secret. “I don’t believe I was ever that youthful.”
“Of course you were.” Helen chuckled quietly to herself. “We all were. And at the time, we just knew we weren’t.”
“You’ve got that right.” The woman offered her hand. “I’m Lial. Most folks around here call me Mom. I don’t believe I’ve seen you here before. This your first time at Bath’s Wife?”
“Helen. Yes. I’m here with a friend. Two, in fact.” Helen’s feeling of nervousness was growing. She was just about to mention that she was there to be with Noami, but wasn’t quite ready to admit that aloud. She had only just acknowledged this truth to herself.
“Well, enjoy yourself, Helen.” With that, she turned back to her bartending. Helen sipped her drink self-consciously as she stood alone at the bar. What was she doing? Why was she there? Why was she suddenly willing to risk so much? What, in fact, was she risking? What if what she was feeling was just a passing fancy?
An inexplicable connection to an artist. That was gist of it. An appreciation of someone with whom she shared a connection through her father’s work. Was that all that was going on? Helen was certain she felt attracted to Noami. Had she really defined it as attraction? She had. Was it real? She was sure it felt natural. It felt right. Of course, it was real. She was not at all nervous about what she was feeling for Noami or her interest in her. She was nervous about the implications of those feelings and what it would mean. What did the fact that she was attracted to the younger and female artist say about her life—her marriage? The implication of what she was experiencing made Helen a little apprehensive. About Noami, oddly enough, Helen felt quite calm.
She looked for Angie and Noami on the dance floor. What drew her attention to them was the woman who had nearly knocked her down Noami’s stairs earlier in the day. She was moving toward them at a pretty fast clip as she adeptly navigated the jam-packed floor. She interrupted their dance with such abruptness, that neither of them was able to react to her angry presence.
The woman placed herself between them and began to yell, turning toward Noami, and then back again to Angie. Noami looked shocked and embarrassed, and from where Helen was standing, Noami seemed to be apologizing to Angie while trying to rein in the new arrival. For her part, Angie appeared to be slightly amused by the carry on of the fuming girl.
By the time Helen made it to them, the worst of it was over. The young person was being led away by a few others who had come to join the fray. She was no longer screaming at the top of her lungs, and instead, she allowed herself to be guided away to the other side of the bar.
“Who was that?” Helen phrased the question to anyone who would answer.
“I have no idea,” Angie answered. “An ex, apparently. She just started in on Noami about moving fast and loose. The words slut, ho, and a few other choice words were thrown in.” Angie shrugged her shoulders. “I guess she was upset because we were dancing. I don’t know. You’ll have to ask Noami. Now, I need a drink.”
Helen looked around the bar to find Noami. She was standing by the bar speaking to Mom. Angie walked up to her and joined the conversation. Helen stood back, watching the three of them converse. For some reason, the sight of the three of them discussing what had just occurred was the most bizarre thing she had ever witnessed. She wasn’t sure whether she should join them or walk quietly away.
Noami was listening intently, but her attention was divided. She seemed as if she was looking for someone as her eyes searched the crowd. Finally, her gaze fell upon Helen. She beamed with relief. “Helen!” Noami called to her from the bar.
Angie returned to Helen’s side. “You don’t have to worry about it, Helen. The girl just came up from nowhere.”
Helen wasn’t worried. She wasn’t thinking about the girl, or why she had created such a scene. Her attention was on Mom, who was staring at her as if she were examining her, as if she were trying to gauge what Helen was thinking. Helen also noticed that Noami was still standing next to her with an anxious expression covered her face.
Noami joined them. “I’d thought you’d gone. I’m sorry. I apologize for what just happened. I am not sure what is going on with her. She just sort of, I don’t know.” She pulled Helen close to the bar. “I’m sorry about that. It’s really embarrassing. I don’t know how she thinks she has the right to do anything like that.”
“Who was she?” Helen posed the question, even though she did not think she was in any position to ask. “I mean, you don’t really owe me an explanation.”
“Well, hell,” Angie began. “Noami owes me an explanation. I’m the one who was yelled at. Besides, Helen, you need to know, too.” Her eyes glanced from Noami’s face to Helen’s, and then quickly down to the drink in her hand. “You need to know what you’re, umm, getting into.” Angie tried to look as if she were convinced that what she was saying was actually valid. After all, Helen was a married woman who was getting involved with a single woman. Angie was very aware of that fact.
Noami obviously agreed. She guided Helen to a relatively calm table to offer reassuring elucidation. “Her name is Wire.” Noami explained that the woman was an ex-girlfriend who hadn’t taken their breakup well. They had broken up over six months ago because she had cheated on her with their friend, Cassie. Noami hadn’t seen her for all that time. Wire had come back last week, arriving unexpectedly at her door, asking to try it again. However, Noami declined to rekindle the relationship. She also shared that Wire had been a mistake from the beginning. She was too young and juvenile, her behavior too infantile. Furthermore, Noami added that she normally dated wome
n who were more matured, more settled—more like Helen.
***
DURING THE SEVERAL weeks following the evening spent at Bath’s Wife, Helen’s spirits continued to lift. The dark cloud, which had weighed so heavily on Helen’s spirit withdrew so completely, that the difficult time over spring scarcely seemed to have transpired. In truth, in the days surrounding her birthday, Helen had collapsed into a low pensive mood that threatened never to ebb. The past weeks spent, in great part, in the company of her new companion affected her so much, that her current disposition was a sharp contrast to her former mood. Helen was beginning to feel more like her old self once more. For a while, she had an overwhelming sensation of being a captive of her own life. Lately, she was beginning to feel freer, and less encumbered by her own existence.
As Helen’s emotional state improved, her family’s concern for her mental health increased. She was aware of the anxious looks they traded behind her back. They assumed she was oblivious to their concern for what they deemed peculiar behavior which each attributed to different reasons. Richard believed depression was taking hold of his wife. Sydney assumed her mother’s behavior was a manifestation of her poor reaction to her youngest as he began the process of moving out of the house. David, after months of “moving out,” had finally decided it was time to leave his childhood home.
David, who really listened to his mother, couldn’t venture to guess or name the change that had come over her, but felt strongly that whatever was going on had something to do with her new acquaintance whom his mother talked about incessantly. In the evening, she sat at home with her family and they shared the goings-on of their day, and if Noami was involved, David noted that Helen became different. Her whole demeanor changed. She revealed a side of herself few had ever seen.