Toothpick House

by Lee Lynch

  Annie lifted her cap off her head. “Thank you,” she said, impressed. “I’ve been waiting to see your poetry a long time now.”

  “It isn’t that I didn’t want you to see it, Anne. It’s just not that terribly good and it didn’t have anything to do with us. I tried to put us in this one. It’s a whole new style for me.” Victoria laughed. “Are you just going to stare at me or are you going to read it?”

  Annie switched on the overhead light and settled against Victoria to read. When she finished Annie sat silently staring at the sheet of paper. After a while she turned to Victoria. “That’s beautiful. Thank you. I need to read it more slowly. I think it’s like a good wine that needs to be rolled around my tongue, having someone write me a poem.”

  Victoria buttoned her shirt. Annie looked down at it. “I wish we could make love right here,” she said.

  “Yes,” agreed Victoria, touching Annie’s face. “But you’re right. We could get arrested.”

  “Let’s compromise and wait until later. I’ll be more comfortable anyway. Shit,” Annie said, suddenly pushing Victoria toward her door.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Victoria, rigid with unexpected fear.

  “Cops, damn it. Get out before they want to know what’s going on.” Annie slipped quickly out of the car, cap in hand and looked the driver full in the face. “We stopped just in time,” she sighed in relief as she joined Victoria on the sidewalk.

  “What would he have done?”

  “I don’t know, my beauty. Maybe nothing, but I don’t want to be in any man’s power long enough to find out. Hope he’s not headed for Marcy’s. Wouldn’t that be a kick in the teeth, busting Judy Grahn in New Haven.”

  “I never thought of that,” Victoria said, pulling her pea jacket tighter across her chest. “And what if a bar we were in got raided and my parents found out that way. My goodness that would be unpleasant.”

  “I thought you wanted them to know.”

  “When I tell them. All I need is a scandal to contend with. As much as I can’t depend on them for money, I don’t want to be cut off from any that may someday come from the other relatives. My picture in the paper would be a shame.”

  “I see your point,” Annie said, stopping just short of the bar and running her fingers through her hair.

  “You look wonderful,” Victoria approved, leaning to kiss Annie, then quickly straightening up as she remembered about the cop.

  “You know,” Annie said thoughtfully, “I’d hate to see you paralyzed by this money over your head.”

  “It’s not the money, Anne. It’s what I’d have to go through if they found out. The emotional punishment including withholding money would be more than I want to deal with.”

  “What are you going to do about your poetry then? It’s going to be dyke poetry like Judy Grahn’s. Are you not going to publish it so your family won’t find out?”

  “I don’t think we have to worry about my poetry getting published just yet, Anne, though you’re right, it’s becoming more and more about women. Let’s go meet this famous person.”

  “Lesbian,” Anne challenged.

  “Lesbian,” Victoria repeated, shyly but proudly. “I like rolling it around on my tongue,” she teased, “like a good wine.” Then she winked, “Or a good woman.”

  Annie raised her eyebrows. “I’m shocked,” she smiled. “And very pleased.” She replaced her cap and held the door open for Victoria. “After you—good woman.”

  They were stopped inside the door by an unusually heavy wave of smoke and noise. “It’s very crowded tonight,” Victoria observed.

  “Come on,” Annie said, taking her hand and leading her to a group of tables bunched together around a booth. Peg stood and waved at them and Claudia jumped up to hug Victoria.

  “It’s so exciting,” said Claudia. “Judy,” she called across to a booth. “This is the poet we were telling you about.” She held Victoria’s hand up as if announcing a winner. “Victoria Locke, meet Judy Grahn,” she said guiding Victoria toward her.

  Peg reached Annie through the throng and Annie lost sight of Victoria. “They’re really pushing your girl, Heaphy.”

  “She is good,” Annie said proudly. “She just gave me a poem tonight.”

  “May I see it?”

  “You’d have to ask her. But where’s Turkey? And Elly? And that mammoth, Dusty?”

  “Playing the jukebox, where else?”

  Annie heard the first notes of Help Me Make It Through the Night and groaned. “Elly’s depressed.”

  “You know how it is,” Peg shouted although she was standing next to Annie, “she and Turkey feel really out of it because they didn’t go to the reading. Turkey can’t believe Judy is one of those ‘faggy poets.’ She claims I didn’t tell them she was a bar dyke. I told them I don’t even know if she really is. But she sure fits in, doesn’t she, Heaphy?”

  “I expected she would, Peglet. But take a look at Rosie the Revolutionary and Claudia and Vicky. Don’t they look just fine here?”

  “Yeah, like the women’s band says, ‘So fine. ...!’”

  “Hey, big shots, can you spare me a dance?” Eleanor weaved her way over to them.

  “You can’t dance in that condition. Where’s Dusty?” Peg asked.

  “Waiting to use the john. Where else? All your libber friends got weak kidneys. Along with weak everything else. So which one is the hotshot from California, the land of fruit and nuts?” She hiccoughed.

  “Judy’s the one talking to Vicky.”

  “Should have figured your Yalie would be part of all this,” Eleanor said resentfully.

  “Hey, Elly,” Annie said with some anger, “Vicky didn’t even go to the reading. She just came down here to be with us.”

  “Fine job she’s doing of being with the lowlifes.”

  “Let’s sit down,” Peg suggested, putting her arm around Eleanor and guiding her toward their table.

  “I want to dance. Don’t neither of you want to be seen dancing with me?”

  “Of course we do, Elly,” Annie said. “Come on, let’s dance.”

  “Oh, no, I don’t want none of your charity,” she said bitterly. “You ain’t even drinking. Are you going to give that up along with your friends?”

  “Elly, Elly, I’m not giving anybody up, I swear. All I did is go to the Women’s Center. Once. What’s wrong with that?”

  “You two are shouting. Sit down,” Peg ordered. “What’s wrong Elly? What’s upsetting you?”

  Eleanor put her head in her hands. “Everybody’s leaving me. You two want to go away and be libbers and you know I don’t want to be like them. I can’t. I’m not smart enough. I’m only a waitress with no bucks or education. I can’t fit in. You two can and you’re going to leave me alone with all these dumb fags and I need you.” She looked at them through her tears and reached across the table to hold their hands. “Don’t leave me. They’re not like you. I am.” Peg and Annie looked in helpless puzzlement at each other and at Eleanor.

  “All I can tell you, El ... ,” Peg began.

  “Don’t tell me nothing,” Eleanor said shrilly as she stood up and hurried from the booth. Dusty came out of the bathroom and caught her in her arms, then led her to dance.

  “Shit,” Annie said, removing her hat. “What was that all about?”

  “I don’t know,” Peg admitted, shaking her head. “I just don’t know. The women’s movement wants us to be less gay because they say we’re acting heterosexual and male and don’t see we’re just acting naturally for us. And the dykes don’t want us to act so much like libbers when that’s part of our world now too. I can’t stop thinking politically. Nor do I want to stop wearing my pinky ring.”

  “No, Peglet, I really can’t see you in long hair and a work-shirt. Well, maybe if it was ironed,” Annie smiled crookedly under the lowered brim of her hat as she looked at Peg’s burgundy corduroy pantsuit.

  “Iron my hair?” Peg teased.

  “No, your thinking. Who
ops. I just missed meeting the celebrity again.”

  Peg turned her head to see Judy Grahn slip into her jacket. “She’s staying with that collective.”

  “What collective?”

  “A bunch of lesbians who live together.”

  “Libbers?”

  “Rabid. Some of them even look gay, though. Over there, leaving with Judy. That little yacky one drives me up a wall. Look at her talk Judy’s ear off.”

  “Some of them do look alright. Shit, I hope Vicky doesn’t fall for any of them. They look more her type than me.”

  “I wouldn’t worry. I hear they’re so busy sleeping with each other they wouldn’t look twice at anyone outside.”

  “You think it’s true?”

  “I don’t know. They say it’s a new way of loving or something. They don’t think women should be in couples.”

  “You’re really giving me an education, Peg. You believe in any of this stuff?”

  “Some of it makes sense, as long as they don’t try to ram it down my throat. I know what I want and I’m going to look for the women I can have it with, libber or not.”

  “We’ve got to make Elly feel better, though. Persuade her we’re not going to abandon her.”

  “Maybe we are, I don’t know. How much longer can we be comfortable with her if she won’t learn at least to understand the changes we’re going through? Just listen to us, you know?” Peg asked sadly.

  “I guess it’s really messed up of her to be chasing after a butch like Dusty. What does she want, to be possessed? To have her heart broken?”

  “Dusty looks like the type who walks right over women. Maybe even hits them on the way by. But that’s what Elly wants.”

  “Maybe all we can do,” Annie said resignedly, “is to let her know we’re here if she needs us.”

  Victoria came to their booth, her hair as wild as it was in Vermont and a similar glow on her face. “I’m going to send her some of my work.”

  “Well, that calls for a drink,” Peg announced.

  “Yeah,” said Annie, “I can’t believe we’ve been here an hour and haven’t had a drink yet.”

  “That’s great!” Victoria approved.

  “Oh, you think everything is great tonight,” Annie replied, nuzzling Victoria’s cheek. “I’m glad Judy is interested. What do you want to drink?”

  “A big cold mug of beer.”

  “Sounds good. You think you can get some cold beer out of Marcy, Peg?”

  “I doubt it, but I’ll try. I’ll see you at Rosie the Revolutionary’s table,” Peg smiled, striding toward the bar with her smooth gait, straightening the lapels of her sports jacket.

  “Rosie the Revolutionary?” Victoria asked.

  Annie looked shame-faced, but her blue eyes twinkled. “She does come on kind of strong.”

  “I guess I have to laugh. Her grimness has annoyed me a lot,” Victoria said, pulling her hair back into a leather barrette.

  “No,” Annie said, putting her hand on Victoria’s. “Leave it like that. I love it.”

  “It’ll take hours to unsnarl.”

  “I’ll help.”

  “I’ll bet. You’ll make it worse. Maybe I’ll get it all cut off like yours.”

  Horrified, Annie began to protest. “You wouldn’t be you!”

  “But I’m really thinking about it. Not until after graduation, of course. So don’t worry yet. You have plenty of time to get used to the idea.”

  “Not sure I can,” Annie said, leading her over to Claudia and Rosemary. “Hi, Rosie,” she said.

  “Rosie?” Claudia giggled.

  “Rosie the Revolutionary. Because you’re so serious, Rosemary,” Annie explained, fingering her hat ready to retract it all should Rosemary be offended.

  “I like it,” Rosemary said. “It’s like Rosie the Riveter.”

  “Figures you’d have a comparison. Who’s that?”

  “In World War Two she was used to represent the women who left their homes and children to go into the factories and contribute to the war effort.”

  “You mean make bombs?” Claudia asked innocently.

  “And all the other destructive toys that men wanted to play with.”

  “Where are they now?” Victoria wanted to know.

  “Where most women are, back in their homes, powerless to earn substantial money, valueless to society other than as child bearers. As soon as the men returned they said, ‘Go home, girls, we don’t need you any more.’ But we’re their daughters.”

  “Let’s drink to that,” Annie toasted with the beer she had just set down.

  Claudia drank, but said, “You mean they just fired them? Sent them home? And they went? Think where they’d be today if they had refused to leave.”

  “I’m sure it was a little more complex than that, but in effect that was it. Claudia, would you like another drink?”

  “How many have we had?”

  “I think this is our third.”

  “We’re not used to all this liquor, Rose, do you think we ought to?”

  “It’s not every day that Judy Grahn comes to see us, is it?”

  “No, but I think I’ll nurse mine anyway.”

  Rosemary went off to the bar while Claudia worried about her. “This is only the second time she’s drunk liquor in her life,” she whispered.

  “I can’t believe she’s doing it,” Victoria said, shaking her head.

  “Ah, it’s good for her once in a while,” Annie decided. “It’ll make her feel more accepted. And it’ll loosen her up so she’ll be more accepted. We’ll drive her home. Hey, Turkey,” she called, waving to her friend, “join us?”

  Turkey approached them slowly, not smiling. “Sit down, Turkus Major,” Peg said, patting the space she made at the edge of the booth. “What’s up with Elly?”

  “She’s not up, you dumb shit, she’s real down.”

  “You don’t sound much better.”

  “I’m kind of confused. And not sure why. I’ve never fit in at school with all those straight people so I come here to feel good. Now all your feminists are taking the bar over and I don’t fit in here either.”

  “We love you a lot, Turkey, and don’t you forget it,” said Peg firmly. “Nobody will kick you out. This is Claudia, Rosie the Revolutionary’s girl.” She paused while Claudia burst into laughter. Turkey could not suppress a smile. “And here comes Rosie herself.”

  “I brought two in case you change your mind, Claudia. And if you don’t, I’ll help you out. Hello,” she responded to the introduction to Turkey. “We’ve heard about you. You’re the sociology major with the wonderful sense of humor.”

  “I am? Not the fat one who looks like a turkey?”

  “No.”

  “Not the dumb one who can’t find a girl?”

  “No.”

  “Not the one with the birthday everyone forgets?”

  “No! Surely it can’t be that bad!”

  “Did you ever lose your tail?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I didn’t think so. I never did either. But Eeyore did and I know just how he felt.”

  “Oh, Eeyore! Of course, the melancholy Eeyore. That’s who you sound like,” Rosemary realized. “You do him well.”

  “Thank you,” Turkey said, still subdued. She looked with sad eyes at Claudia, Peg, Annie and Victoria, then suddenly began to laugh. “I love it! I made you guys all sad!”

  “That’s mean,” Victoria laughed also. “You did that on purpose.”

  “I had to know if you cared.”

  Peg scolded her. “You could have asked, you ass.”

  “No, no. I stopped playing Eeyore. He’s the ass.”

  “Did you ever think of going on the stage?” Rosemary wanted to know, finishing the first drink.

  “Well, I’ll tell you. Once, when I worked in an anti-poverty program summer job, I had to sweep up the stage in the high school auditorium. I went backstage, center stage, upstage and down. It was an excellent experience
. So I’ll tell you, Rosie, I’ve been on stage. I’m a real pro.” Rosemary laughed.

  “Why do you ask?” Turkey questioned her, cocking her head to one side, turkey-like.

  “Because you can affect people with your face and manner. That’s what the stage is all about isn’t it?”

  “Except how many fat dykes do you see up there doing routines? And I only would do it for dykes, you know.”

  “Then do a show here. For the bars in New Haven. Women would love it.”

  Turkey looked seriously at Annie. “Where’d you find this one, Cabbie?” she joked finally.

  “Hey,” Annie protested, “it’s a good idea. I’d love you to be a stand-up comic. You could really do it.”

  Claudia put her hand out to stop Rosemary from drinking more of the second drink. “It’s okay. Rosie the Revolutionary can get drunk once in her life,” Rosemary said, beginning to slur her words. “Damn it.”

  “So what do you think of Judy?” Peg asked Victoria.

  “She was wonderful. I’m so glad to know that there’s a poet out there doing what she says she’s trying to do. I can’t wait to read her poetry. And to use some of her ideas myself. It will help to loosen me up.”

  “When are you going to show us some of your stuff?”

  “When there’s something worth showing you, Peg.”

  “You’re being modest.”

  “Perhaps. But I’m also just realizing what a silly fantasist I’ve been. I want to write poetry that means something to us. Not just write pretty pictures.”

  “All this time,” Rosemary said, her braid half undone and her hands clumsily rebraiding it, “I’ve been trying to get you to go to the women’s poetry group so you would turn your words into weapons for the movement. Now I learn that all you needed was to meet a lesbian poet to see that you are one too.”

  “Seeing her I think made all of us feel that we may just be able to live the lives we want to live,” Annie said.

  “That’s called validation,” said Turkey. “Judy Grahn sounds like she must be a role model.”