Toothpick House

by Lee Lynch

  “Those were the women who liked to look like men.”

  “You say that like they’re some foreign breed. A lot of people think I’m a man.”

  Victoria shook her head in disbelief. “You’ve told me that, but you don’t look like a man at all!”

  “To you. You know better. You’re not scared off by my appearance, thank goodness. A lot of poeple, something clicks in their heads if they can’t immediately identify where someone’s coming from. It makes them not so sure who they are. You’ve never heard the comments. Either they won’t make them in front of two people, one of whom looks normal, or they think I am a guy. It mostly happens when I’m alone and occasionally with Turkey or Peg.”

  “Do I look that straight?”

  “Pretty much—to them. I see the dyke in you.”

  “I’m confused about that. I’d like to look like who I am.” Victoria thought for a moment. “Maybe I will cut my hair.”

  “I thought you didn’t want to look dykey.”

  “I’m frightened of being so identifiable. And I still feel as if it’s no one’s business but ours. Yet I’m proud of being a lesbian and I don’t want to hide it.”

  “Don’t you dare cut your hair, though,” Annie said, whirling on Victoria. “I love it.”

  Victoria giggled. “I know, but it is awfully hot.” She jumped up from the bench and skipped away from it while Annie pretended to drag her back.

  “That’s only the sun. It’ll get cooler,” she pleaded, laughing as she tried to grab Victoria’s arm.

  “It’s my hair. Don’t you want me to be comfortable?” Victoria called back as she ran through the now half-full park and onto the street.

  Annie was right behind her. “I’ll buy you reflective sunglasses and a pinky ring! You won’t have to cut your hair!”

  Victoria leaned against the fence. “Perfect solution,” she said, catching her breath. “But I have an even better idea.” She took Annie’s hand again and pulled her across 42nd Street. A bus honked loudly at them. They walked past a few stores and stopped at a tiny shop that sold ties.

  “You don’t want a tie, do you?” Annie asked Victoria.

  “I’ve always wanted a tie. Women used to wear ties. Why shouldn’t I?”

  “The day I meet your parents? Give me a break!”

  “I’d only wear it if we go out later. I think I’d look good in one. I used to pick out all of my father’s.”

  Annie shook her head. “Let’s go in,” she sighed.

  They had fun trying on ties and upsetting the shop manager who never offered to help them, only stared. When they left Victoria had three ties, one to match her eyes, one to match Annie’s eyes and one for her father. Annie bought a wide orange tie with blue elephants staggered across it. She proudly held it up to Victoria on the corner of 6th and 42nd.

  “Why in the world did you buy it?” Victoria asked.

  “To show that man that dykes aren’t all bad. He’s probably been trying to unload it for years. Besides, it was only a dollar.”

  “Can’t resist a bargain? Where will you wear it?”

  Annie looked victorious. “Wherever you wear yours!”

  “Oh, no! Is that a threat?”

  “Well, you wouldn’t want me to go anywhere inappropriately dressed, would you? And if ties are called for, I’ll have one.”

  “But, Anne, I think that one should be declared illegal. I’m not sure you can bring it across state lines.” She watched Annie trying to knot it around her neck. “And it clashes horribly with your hat.”

  Annie looked crushed. “I never thought of that.”

  Victoria sensed that she might win yet. “You’ll just have to buy a new hat.”

  “No way. Uh-uh. Not me,” Annie declared, shaking her head. “It’ll just have to look bad.”

  “Don’t you want a hat from New York?”

  Annie thought a minute. She folded the tie neatly and put it in its bag.

  “Some of the greatest haberdashers in the world work in this city,” Victoria went on. “It would be a present.”

  Annie looked suspiciously at Victoria. “You don’t like my hat?” She removed it and fingered its edges.

  “Of course I like your hat. But it doesn’t match your tie.” She drew her hair back from her face. “And I wouldn’t mind some variety,” she added gently.

  “I knew you didn’t like my hat,” Annie said in the same tone she would use to say that someone did not like her. Her face was full of hurt. The traffic forged by them crosstown and uptown, like herded cattle. The horns lowed, while brakes, wheels and engines bellowed and roared at various levels. Victoria began to think that she had hurt Annie beyond repair when she felt Annie’s hand tuck her arm under her own. “Which way to the hats, ma’am?” Annie asked her.

  “I’m not sure,” Victoria hesitated. “This wasn’t planned, you know. I suppose uptown might mean quality, though I’m not sure of finding any of that on Sixth Avenue.”

  “Let’s try. Remember, I’m not rich either.”

  “I said it would be a gift if you recall.” There was still a slight edge of uneasiness between them as they walked through the crowds on 6th Avenue.

  “Is this Broadway?” Annie asked.

  “It’s a block over.”

  “I want to buy a hat on Broadway.”

  “I have a feeling quality will be sacrificed for sentiment there.”

  Annie smiled. “I feel tacky today.”

  “I noticed.”

  Annie stopped and hugged Victoria fiercely. “I really don’t mind you wanting me to have a new hat. I’ve been thinking about it myself. I guess I was just feeling like the hat was a part of me you didn’t like. And I need for you to like all of me, Vicky.”

  “Poor Anne,” Victoria soothed her. “My wonderful woman. Maybe I am rejecting a part of you. Maybe I want to put my own stamp on you more completely. I don’t think it would change you essentially. Do you?”

  “No. And we’re bound to change from being with each other. Can you imagine ten years from now?” she joked, leaning back from Victoria to share her vision. “You won’t hardly be able to tell us apart!”

  Victoria laughed too as she stepped away and took Annie’s hand. “I hope we won’t get like that,” she said. “I don’t think I could love me anywhere near as much as I love you. We have to find out how to be together and change together without becoming indistinguishable from each other or inseparable. As you said, we have to learn how ‘not to lose our ability to be alone.’ And speaking of being alone—what have you heard about your house?”

  “Nothing,” Annie answered sadly. “The workers are just about finished next door. I guess they’ll start painting and hammering on my place next. I better start looking for someplace else to rent.” She shrugged as if it didn’t matter and Victoria felt helpless to see her so defeated.

  “Wait,” commanded Annie, stopping in her tracks as they turned onto Broadway. “I love it.”

  “What?” Victoria looked all around her at the people and cars and shops until her eyes came to rest on the white cowboy hat in the window of a souvenir store. “You like it?” Victoria asked, looking doubtfully at it.

  “No,” said Annie finally. “It’s not me.”

  Victoria sighed in relief, suddenly hearing the new sounds that signalled Broadway, the raucous speakers blasting bad rock music and come-on speeches out the doors. “I didn’t think so. As little as I want to be a repressed uptowner, that was a little flamboyant.”

  “I might like to be flamboyant once in a while, you know.”

  “Once in a while, Anne. But you wear your hats all the time everywhere.”

  “So it’s hats in the plural already, huh?”

  “We are looking for one ...”

  “True. Very true. If we can find it.” They trudged on up into the theatre district and Victoria pointed out the sights to Annie. They were both very hot and thirsty. Annie kept lifting the knapsack away from her back to dry off the sweat.
“Let’s find a nice air-conditioned shop to look in.”

  “How about that shop?” They went in and Annie bought a lightweight navy Greek sailor’s cap.

  “Now, that was easy,” Annie said, stuffing her green cap into her knapsack as they emerged into the heat.

  “And I love it. It does suit you. Kind of dignified, but kind of fun. It looks great with your light hair.”

  “You’re just pleased as hell you’ve left your mark on my head.”

  “I’d rather be leaving it on your body,” Victoria whispered and ran her tongue around the rim of Annie’s ear. “Let’s go up to my parent’s apartment. It’ll be cooler and they won’t be home for hours yet.”

  Annie took off her sailor’s hat and bent the brim to a peak in her hand. “Got to train this hat to fit me right. Yes, let’s go. It’s too damn hot out here for June. Somebody ought to adjust the thermostat.”

  * * * * *

  “Sometimes it seems as if we spend all our time in bed,” Annie noted as she pulled on her jeans.

  Victoria giggled deep in her throat. “I wish we could.”

  “We might never have stopped if your parents weren’t due soon.”

  “Not if I had anything to do with it, Anne.” Victoria nuzzled Annie’s neck before she went, naked, to the dresser to brush her hair. “Do you have any idea how liberating it is to make love with a woman in one’s parents’ home?”

  Annie brushed the top of her new hat clean, and set it on her head. “Some,” she said shyly.

  “So you’re not innocent of this rebellion yourself?”

  “Where else did me and Natalie have to go? My problem was that my house was never empty.”

  “The aunts?”

  “And my grandmother. When I think of that house it’s a nightmare of faceless women floating, like ghosts, in and out of rooms, constantly searching for me.”

  “And where were you?”

  “On the narrow hard bed under a window in my room. Lying on a white bedspread, feeling its fuzzy little bumps under our asses as we made love, scared and tense, tense, tense. I don’t know how we ever had orgasms.”

  “Quietly, I’ll bet.”

  Annie bent over Victoria from behind and hugged her. “Quieter than you, anyway,” she teased, cupping her hands around Victoria’s still-uncovered breasts.

  “Anne!”

  “Did I embarrass you?” Annie asked as she knelt at Victoria’s side and spoke against a breast, touching it as she spoke with her mouth. “I love to hear you. Every time you come I hear you coming on the mountainside in Vermont again. You open up the sky for me, wherever we are. Suddenly I’m outdoors with you in open space.”

  Victoria leaned her head back, knowing that she wanted to make love again, but anxious about her parents’ arrival. The fact that they knew she and Annie were lovers did not make Victoria feel any more comfortable about making love in their home. Still, she let her legs go slack as Annie reached between them. “No, Anne,” she whispered, letting the hairbrush rest on Annie’s hat. Then she swept the hat off Annie’s head. Annie sat between Victoria’s legs and began to explore her with her tongue. Victoria, shaken with tenderness by the intimacy of what Annie was doing, half-dropped, half-placed her brush on the floor and softly ran her hands over and over Annie’s hair. “I feel so connected to you,” she breathed at Annie who leaned back and looked up toward Victoria, her lips glistening above her naked shoulders. “You’re making a circle with me,” Victoria explained softly. “It’s like a halo, or a rainbow. I can see all this light curving into you and out of me and out of you and into me. I feel its warmth.” She played with Annie’s hair, astonished again by its blondeness.

  “I feel it,” replied Annie, bending once more and kissing Victoria’s exposed outer lips lightly until Victoria found herself moving her pelvis closer to Annie’s mouth, pushing against her. Overwhelmed, she stopped worrying about her parents. Annie circled Victoria’s ankles with her fingers and steadied herself until with a half-loud cry Victoria came. Victoria bent to kiss Annie’s still-wet lips, her hair falling between them and making a fine grinding sound as it rubbed between their lips. “I have never met anyone as sensual as you,” Annie said, her eyes still bright with pleasure.

  Victoria stared at their blueness, unable to talk yet, her hands resting lightly to either side of Annie’s jaw. “This isn’t sex,” she finally said, closing her eyes and shaking her head slowly. “It’s bliss.” Her smile disappeared as she heard the key in the front door. She looked at Annie in panic and Annie stood, slowly, pulling Victoria up with her. She bent to hand Victoria her jeans and looked for her pullover as Mrs. Locke called, “Victoria, are you and your friend home?” Victoria rolled her eyes at Annie before she disappeared into her sweater. Annie was fumbling with the buttons of her own shirt.

  “We’ll be right there, mother,” she called, hoping she would wait for them. Her heart raced when she heard her mother’s footsteps approaching. Annie pushed her shirttails into her jeans still unbuttoned. Victoria quickly ran a brush through her hair. Her mother would think it odd she wore no shirt under her sweater, but there was no time for proprieties. Almost simultaneously she thought of her mother’s perfunctory kiss. Her mouth and hair smelled like herself from kissing Annie. She looked quickly around to Annie who was sitting, composed, legs crossed, hat on her lap, almost daintly on the desk chair. For a moment she wished that Annie had long hair, looked more straight, but then she was flooded with love for her short yellow hair, her lesbian ways. It gave her courage and she remembered to slip her glasses off just as Mrs. Locke rounded the door.

  “Hello girls,” Mrs. Locke said, hesitating in the doorway to Victoria’s relief. “You must be Anne.” She did not walk in to shake Annie’s hand.

  “Yes,” Annie replied, smiling nervously. “Thanks for giving me a place to stay in the city.”

  “We welcome Victoria’s friends,” Mrs. Locke said, her face expressionless. She looked as if, had she seen Annie at Victoria’s feet, she would not have given any sign, thought Annie. She knew the type: frozen women, so far from their feelings they seem to have none. And the thought chilled her as she realized in fear how much of that coldness might be in Victoria. The thawing that had come with loving Annie might be temporary—or partial. Annie considered her ability to love a half-frozen woman. She would try to keep her melted by helping her feel safe and loved. What a consuming job it could be. But there, she thought as Mrs. Locke advised them to dress and meet her and Mr. Locke in the parlor for cocktails, there is the difference. Mrs. Locke turned regally and swept out of the room with her skirt and matching high heels. Victoria is a lesbian. In her own world she doesn’t have to protect herself quite so much as her mother who must wear clothes to please men, move to please them and think to please them. In learning Annie’s pleasures, Victoria learned her own, just as in learning Annie’s needs and how to meet them, she found how to meet her own. The battle’s half won, thought Annie: remove her from this world. In the new world, help her to find and to meet her own real needs.

  Victoria watched Annie’s eyes follow her mother out of the room. She felt torn away from Annie. The intimacy of their lovemaking had been so moving that the intrusion of her straight, judgemental mother was almost an act of violence. In order to regain that intimacy she felt she must do something violent in turn, but she was paralyzed.

  “Do you like your mother?” asked Annie, hoping Victoria did not.

  “No. Not at all. I’ve tried to find something in her I could like or love,” Victoria whispered, “but she’s not reclaimable. She’s lost.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It makes me freer in a way. I know what I don’t want.”

  “You mean I might never have had you if it hadn’t been for her failure?”

  “Exactly. And if my father hadn’t thought that my mind was as important as my body so that I was allowed to develop it. Of course, that was in lieu of training a son, but the end result is the same for me.” />
  They sat on the bed next to each other, not touching. “We came to each other such different ways,” said Annie.

  “I hardly know anything about your background. Except that you had a household of aunts and not much money. Why do you think you didn’t want to be like your family?”

  “That’s easy. As earthy as my aunts seem next to your mother, they had their airs and pretenses. They thought their husbands should be strapped to their jobs to earn more and more money so they could spend their lives prettying up their flats and serving each other tea. They would not have admired your mother, but they would have emulated her lifestyle. And my mother, though she was different from them, more purposeful, still relegated herself to second place at home. The men cursed and got loud, but the aunts made them stop brawling, demanded that they treat them like ladies. I suppose it was their way of getting away from the ugliness of life, from the poverty their parents knew in Ireland and then here, but it made them such damned fakes.

  “There wasn’t one person in my family I wanted to be like. My mother a little bit, because at least she kept her integrity by staying aloof from my father’s family and working part-time. But she was still part of it all because my father was. It was her spirit, maybe, that I admired. I think without my father she might have gone and built herself a farm out west like her brother did. Instead, she invited my father’s relatives to our gloomy flat, cooked turkey for all of them when it was her turn and settled family tiffs. I didn’t want to get buried like that.” Annie paused, looking toward Victoria from the window where she had wandered. “Sorry, that was quite a speech.”

  Victoria joined her at the window. “You’re right, it was quite a speech. But I want to hear your speeches. We really know each other so little, don’t we?”

  Annie smiled and replaced her hat. “I was thinking of that myself. I probably know more about your body than your personality.”

  “Then no matter how awful this is I think it’s been worth it to let us get to know each other better.”

  “Agreed. Now I see that it’s really important to take you home to Chelsea so you can see from whence I sprung,” Annie laughed. “Although you won’t have to deal with my family as my lover. I’d rather disappear from their lives than come out to them. I’d feel so entangled by their responses.”