by Robin Roseau
We were both very studious, and neither of us allowed the other to compromise on that. But when the studying was done, it was time to meet people. Rachel didn't take "no" for an answer.
Rachel wasn't what I would have called attractive or cute or pretty. But everyone loved her, absolutely everyone. Boys, girls, everyone loved her, and she got her first date for the first Saturday we were at college. After that, she had a steady stream of dates, some faces coming back over and over, some only appearing once. She wasn't serious with any of them, not that first year, but she had fun. The boys had fun. And she still got straight A's.
I was subject to moods. Absolutely everything reminded me of Dee Dee. Being around Rachel was infections, and we'd be laughing at something. And then she would draw me into a story, and I realized all my stories were about Dee Dee. But over time, the hurt grew less.
Rachel knew I'd been hurt. How could she not? But I stonewalled any attempts to ask about it, and she got the hint. I think she was hurt that I wouldn't talk about it, but then she brightened up and moved onto something else. She wasn't one to dwell over unpleasantness, and I tried to copy her lead on that.
Some of the guys tried to hit on me, too. At first I ignored it, but then a few of them grew bolder and asked me out. I didn't handle it very well the first couple of times. Rachel was there for both, and after the second one, she said, "Just tell them you're gay."
"I couldn't!" I protested.
"Why not?"
I didn't have a good answer to that.
"Look, you're going to get three kinds of responses. Most guys will say, okay, and move on. Some will think it's cool and want to be your friend, even if you're not dating. Some guys will think being gay is something they can cure if you sleep with them. Those guys are assholes. It's nice of them to advertise."
I laughed about that.
"Make sure you tell me about those so I don't start dating them, either." I nodded, still laughing. "Then there will be a few true assholes, who think there's something wrong with being gay. Those, you can ream. Or let me ream them. I like the term 'fucking bigot'. Can you say that with me? Fucking bigot."
"I couldn't say that!"
"Sure you can," she said. "Try it. Fucking bigot."
"Um."
"Come on, Emily," she said. "Fu... fu..."
I laughed. "Fucking bigot."
I immediately began blushing.
"That's a good color on you," she said. "But it'll go over better if you look angry, not embarrassed. Do we need to practice?"
"No!"
She smiled. "All right."
"But aren't you worried?"
"About what?"
"That they'll think you're gay, too?"
"Why would that bother me?" she asked. "Let them."
I stared at her.
"Emily, did you forget my story about prom night?"
Rachel was pretty cool.
After that, if guys tried to ask me out, I just told them, "No thank you." If they persisted, I told them, "I'm gay." And Rachel was right; most guys were cool about it. A few offered to introduce me to friends. One even offered to introduce me to his sister. I turned them all down, politely.
A few guys were assholes. I got my share of crude comments, but I realized they weren't really any worse than the comments Rachel and I shared amongst ourselves. One night when we were out, a couple of guys tried to hit on Rachel and I. We were at a local pizza and pool joint. Rachel was trying to teach me how to play pool. I wasn't very good at it until she explained, "Look, it's all about geometry." And suddenly, it all made sense.
These two guys came up to us. At first they looked nice. Then they both honed in on me, which I didn't like at all. But it was a good way to tell they were assholes even before they opened their mouths. What was Rachel? Chopped liver?
"Hey, babe," said the tall one. "I'm Nick. You ready for a real teacher?"
I turned my back on him. "No thanks. I'm with my friend."
That's when the other one came up on the other side. "Ignore Nick," he said. "I'm Gary. Maybe we could go somewhere."
"I'm sorry, guys, but I'm gay. No thank you."
And that's when Gary said it. "A dyke, huh? You just need to be with a real man." Then he pumped his groin in my direction.
I glanced over at Rachel. I didn't know what to do about this.
"Hey Ems," she said. "I ever tell you about Oliver?"
"I don't believe you did, Ray," I replied.
"He used to strut around like a cock, just like Gary there. But you know what?"
"What's that, Ray?"
"He was, you know. Compensating."
Gary knew what Rachel was trying to say even before I did. He glowered at her. "Compensating for what, Ray?"
"The size of his wee wee. It was, well. Wee."
I hadn't seen it coming and began to laugh. Rachel had temporarily broken the tension, but Gary hadn't liked the suggestion he had a small dick. He expression clouded. "Shut up, bitch," he told her rudely.
The whole room heard him. Suddenly there were three guys standing between Rachel and Gary and two more flanking me. I knew all five of them. They were friends of Rachel's, including two who had asked me out and been gentlemen when I had turned them down.
"Dude," said Eric, one of the guys standing in front of Rachel. "Anyone who can't get along with Rachel is a total dick. Maybe you should consider your life choices before they catch up to you."
Both Nick and Gary backed away slowly, Nick saying, "We didn't mean nothing by it."
"Nice English," I said under my breath. I think everyone still heard me. There were a few snickers.
After they left, I began to shake. One of the guys put his arm around me and said kindly, "Are you okay, Emily?"
"Yeah," I said. "They were just-"
"Total complete utter assholes?" Rachel filled in for me, earning herself a bunch of high fives.
"Yeah," I said. "Total complete utter assholes."
Then Eric turned to Rachel. "Girl, you can't say shit like that."
"Oh relax," she said. "I knew you guys were there."
He smiled. "Yeah, but he might have broken my pretty face."
Rachel reached up and caressed his face. "I would have had to nurse you back to health." And then, right in front of everyone, she kissed him.
That night after we were in bed, Rachel said, "Eric was right. I shouldn't have said that. It could have gotten ugly."
"But they deserved it."
"They sure did."
The story got around campus. It seems like all of us were treated with more respect, even me. I had a few girls ask me about it, and every time I heard about it, the story had grown bigger and bigger. Judging by the reactions of the women I talked to, all five of our saviors got some serious action after that. Rachel continued to date, and the entire campus knew I was gay.
I was okay with that.
* * * *
It was two weeks later, just a few days before midterms, that I met my first lesbian. Well the first one I knew about at least. There were some girls in high school I thought might be gay, but I was never sure.
This one was obvious about it. She found me at dinner, sitting down across from me where Rachel would normally sit. "That seat's taken," I said.
"Rachel can have this one," the woman said, sliding a book into the place to her left to hold it for Rachel. Then her eyes bored into mine, and suddenly I knew. She was gay.
I looked away first.
"My name's Linda," she said, holding out her hand. I automatically shook hands across the table. I expected a brief, simple shake, but she held onto my hand, setting both our hands down on the table and not letting go.
I looked between our hands and Linda's face.
I was immediately confused. Oh, I certainly knew what Linda was doing, but I didn't know how to react. And I guess I didn't know exactly what Linda was suggesting, either.
I wasn't completely ignorant. I knew what sex was. Sort of. I wasn't q
uite sure how it worked, but I had ideas.
I didn't think I was ready for a girlfriend. I wasn't sure I was ready for casual sex, either. Dating was a possibility. I just didn't know.
I missed Dee Dee.
"Let's not pretend," Linda said.
"Pretend what?" I asked.
"Let's not pretend you don't know why I'm here."
She still hadn't released my hand. I looked down, then looked around frantically for Rachel, but she had gotten waylaid on the way to our table and was talking to some guy, each of them holding their dinner trays.
"May I have my hand back?" I asked quietly.
Linda smiled. In answer, her other hand reached out, and she used a finger to begin tracing patterns on my bare skin. It felt good. No one had ever done that to me before, and I didn't know what to make of it. But it felt good.
It must have shown in my face, or else Linda just knew what reaction she would have over me. Her smile broadened. "You like that."
I nodded, and I couldn't take my eyes off her finger as it caressed my skin. Our hands were clasped, right hand to right hand, and she had rolled our hands over so hers was on the bottom, the back of my hand exposed to her finger. She traced a pattern on the back of my hand, then my wrist, extending up my arm as far as she could reach, then back down, her finger swirling, touching.
Then there was a jostling next to Linda as Rachel sat down. She took one look at the scenario and said, "Linda, knock it off. You're scaring her."
"How could I be scaring her?" Linda said. But I looked at Rachel pleadingly. Linda saw the look. "But-" she said. "You're out."
I nodded but continued to look at Rachel, hoping she'd save me. From what, I wasn't sure.
Rachel returned my look, telling me she was right there, that I was safe.
"Oh my god," Linda said. "You're a virgin."
I looked at her and blushed furiously, but nodded.
She didn't let go of my hand. Instead, her grip changed. Instead of being flirtatious, she became comforting, both her hands holding my hand.
"You are gay?" Linda asked, confirming what she already knew. I nodded. "I've been watching you. You seem so confident. And that story about the pool hall-" She broke off. "I'm sorry, I just thought you were. Um. Experienced."
"One kiss," I said.
"One kiss?" said Linda with shock. "Oh Emily, I'm sorry. I wouldn't have come on so strong if I'd known."
"May I have my hand back now?" I said softly. Linda immediately released me, and I stuffed both hands into my lap.
"Was it a good kiss?" Linda asked.
"She ran."
And then I stared at my food in front of me, suddenly not very hungry.
No one said anything. They were both looking at me, but I ignored them. Eventually I picked up my fork and pushed the food around my plate, eating some of it while avoiding their eyes.
We ate quietly, no one saying anything until we were done.
"Emily?" Linda said.
I looked up at her. She was smiling, and it was a soft, sweet smile.
"There's a dance on Saturday. Would you like to go with me?"
I looked over at Rachel. She was nodding.
"Yes, Linda, I think I would."
"Good. Dinner first? I'll pick you up at your room at six."
"All right. What should I wear?"
"You may wear whatever you like," Linda said. "I will be dressed to impress."
Then, before I could respond, Linda stood up, collected her things, and backed away from the table. "Saturday. Six." I nodded, and she was gone.
Rachel moved over to sit across from me. "One kiss?" she asked quietly. I nodded. "And she ran?" I nodded again. "She was an idiot."
"She was my only friend, Rachel," I replied. "We met when I was seven. She saved my life. Twice. She was there when my grandmother died and when my father died. We played together nearly every day from the day we met. And then I kissed her, and I haven't seen her since."
"Oh, Ems," she said, her face full of compassion.
"She was my only friend, ever, until I met you." I looked across the table at her. "Thank you. For being my friend."
* * * *
That was the last time I talked about Dee Dee to anyone. After that, as far as everyone else was concerned, my first kiss was the one Linda gave me outside my room after the Saturday dance.
It was a really nice kiss, too.
Linda picked me up right at six. I didn't have a clue what to wear. Rachel helped, but I didn't have a lot of date clothes. Who was I kidding? I didn't have any date clothes at all. I had jeans and shirts, but I had rarely worn dresses or skirts. Mom had insisted I buy two dresses, two skirts, and several blouses before starting college, but I hadn't worn any of them.
"Maybe I should wear jeans?" I told Rachel after trying on both dresses.
Rachel wouldn't have it. She pulled out a black skirt and white blouse. She made me change bras, then watched as I dressed. I looked at myself in the mirror then turned to her. "This isn't me."
Rachel frowned. "You're used to being the tomboy." I nodded. "But you're also very feminine at the same time, Emily." To that, I shrugged.
"I don't know how to dress like this," I said, gesturing to myself.
"You want to know why you're going to wear the skirt?" she asked.
"Because you told me to?"
Rachel laughed. "No. Let me show you." And then she stripped out of her jeans, went to the closet, and pulled her own skirt out. She pulled it up to her hips before turning to me. "Now, you're going dancing. Watch the skirt."
I watched as Rachel did a twirl, and the skirt swirled out away from her legs. I stared. Rachel laughed.
"I'll wear the skirt," I said, and she laughed again.
After that, Rachel fussed at me. She unbuttoned my blouse enough to allow the top of my bra to peek out. "You can button one more button when you're dancing, if you're worried about it, but leave it like this through dinner," she told me.
Then she fussed at my hair and wanted to do makeup. "Just a little," she said. "Trust me, Emily."
So I sat in a chair while Rachel used an eyeliner pencil then used two different lipsticks on my lips. Finally she let me look in the mirror. What she had done was subtle, but I admitted it looked good.
"Understated is a good look for you, Emily."
"I've been thinking of going all goth, Rachel."
She laughed. "I can do that look, if you would prefer it."
"No."
Rachel had gotten me ready early. "Ems? Is this your first date?"
I nodded.
"Ever?"
I nodded again.
"Nervous?"
"Yes."
"Don't be," she said. "Linda knows the score, and she's really sweet, when she's not on the prowl."
"How is it you know everyone, Rachel?"
"I have a big mouth," she said. "I talk to everyone."
"I wish I were more like you," I said.
"I don't. I like you the way you are."
After that, until Linda arrived, Rachel distracted me with first date horror stories, starting with her first date when she was fifteen. I was sure she was embellishing, but she assured me they were all completely true.
We were laughing together over one of the stories when there was a knock at the door. I was ready to pop up and answer it, but Rachel waved me back down. "Let me get it," she said.
Rachel went to the door and opened it a crack, standing in the door. I think she said something to Linda, but I didn't hear what it was. Then she held the door wide open, and Linda entered.
She wasn't kidding when she said she was dressing to impress. Linda was dressed in black leather: boots, pants, and a white blouse with a black leather jacket. I slowly got to my feet, staring at her.
"Wow," I said. It suddenly occurred to me she had dressed like this for me. No one had ever picked her clothes while thinking about me before.
"Wow is right," Linda said, pointedly looking me up and
down. "You look great."
I looked away. She looked hot. I looked like I was trying too hard. Linda crossed the room and took my hands, holding them away from my body and looking at me again. She turned me side to side a little, and when I looked up at her, she was smiling. "You look nice, Emily."
I looked over at Rachel for help. All she did was smile at me.
"I'm underdressed," I said.
"No you're not," Linda said. "You look great."
I'd never felt this lacking in confidence before. In high school, I really hadn't cared what anyone thought about me. And I'd grown up comfortable with what Dee Dee thought about me, that I hadn't really given much thought to my appearance around her.
But suddenly I cared, and I didn't know what to do about it.
I looked back at Linda. "I don't-" I started to say. "I don't really have anything like this."
"So?" Linda asked. "This is my look, not yours. Do you like how I look?"
"Yes!" I said. "You look amazing."
She smiled broadly at my response. "And I like how you look."
"But we don't match," I said.
"So? Why would you want to match?"
I didn't have an answer to that.
"Emily," Linda said, interjecting her face in front of where I was staring away. "I am going to be proud to have you on my arm tonight. We're going to have a nice time. Are you hungry?"
I smiled. "Yes, I am. Where are we going?"
"There's a Vietnamese restaurant in town. Game?"
"Sure."
Linda hooked her arm in mine and tugged me towards the door. Rachel held the door for us and offered an "I'm so proud of you" look like a parent might give to a teenager. I was nervous, and my hands were sweating, but I felt pretty good, too.
When we got to the staircase, Linda switched us to holding hands, leading the way down the stairs to the ground level, then hooked arms with me again for the walk to her car. She led the way to a tired-looking sedan.
"It doesn't look like much," she said. "But it's solid and reliable." Then she opened the passenger door for me and handed me into the car. She made a point of checking out my legs as I climbed in, which I found flattering. I wondered if that's why she did it.
But you can bet I checked out her legs when she climbed in, too, even clad in the leather. It was exciting to look at her and realize she was with me.