by Tillie Wells
Thousands of onlookers pile along the route, some climbing on high objects so that they can see the parade. Some climb on automobiles, tops of stairs, on the tops of buildings, and any place to get a clear view of the participants. As the parade ends, the audience is allowed to follow behind the parade shouting, partying, and holding signs with sentimental messages. There are vendor spaces where vendors sell various things like T-shirts, jewelry, artwork, food, drinks, and many other interesting things.
Speaking of partying, Kye explains that many parties follow the day’s celebration. There will be various parties throughout the city at different night clubs, bars, and homes, but the one they always choose is at the mansion of a rich, gay rights activist known as Edgar. Apparently he dresses in drag and is quite interesting. She leaves it up to me if I want to tag along to the party. I keep thinking that the activities at the Eagle last night and the parade today are a lot to consume in such a short time. So, I opt out— I'll go out with them on another occasion. So, my Saturday night is spent letting the television watch me. I have to catch up on the sleep I didn’t get on Friday night. Then I have to catch up on the sleep I didn’t get during my usual sleeping in on Saturdays. Sunday is spent cleaning, washing, cooking, and getting ready for a busy work week.
* * * *
Arriving at work on Monday, I feel guilty by association. I wonder if someone saw me being carried to a car from the lesbian bar on Friday night. I wonder if the television cameras caught me in the crowds at the gay parade. I am like a paranoid mess. I feel gay and I’m not. Hell, I don’t even know for sure if Kye or her girls are gay or if they are just activists. It seems as if everyone in the office is looking at me differently.
“Hi ya, road warrior!” Kye says as she walks into the office, speaking loudly.
“Shush!”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m kind of shy on this whole thing. I’m like 'what if people think I’m gay?' I can’t let rumors run wild. So, I would appreciate it if we can keep this on the down low.”
Kye laughs.
“Down low is a poor choice of words. You sound as if you are in the closet already or something. But, I understand how you feel.”
“How do you know how I feel?” I snap at her before I know it.
“I just do,” Kye answers as she sits on the edge of my desk with her legs swinging. “I’ve been where you are with the feelings of shame, paranoia, and what-ifs. You feel straight and you might just contract the gay disease and become lesbian. You have this huge guilt and now you don’t know if you want to associate with us anymore. I wish you would have joined us at the party. There were great speakers who address these kinds of issues for the allies and activists. I’m not saying you are an ally or an activist, but you are pondering on if you should or if you shouldn’t become one. Am I right?”
“I don’t know what I’m feeling,” I answer almost in a whisper and looking around to see if someone is listening. “I know for one thing that I am not gay.”
“Yes, that’s one thing the speaker spoke on. Of course you are not gay. You just feel if people see you associating with gays that they will think you are gay and then you start to question your own identity. Am I right?”
“Will you stop with the 'am I right' questions, please? I’m not exactly sure on how I feel. I just know I’m straight and I am adamant about that.”
“Whoopee! So, you are, Miranda. You asked me the big question the other night. Remember? You asked if I’m lesbian. So, that is a big plus for me if you can’t determine that about me and my friends on your own. People think they can figure that out about a person and I have always been firm on the fact that is not always possible. People think gays all have this peculiar outlandish, whorish type of behavior which is far from the truth. Gays are just like every human. You have some people who act the part of what society calls normal and then you have some who act extraordinary and it’s not right to make assumptions based on wild beliefs and stereotypical views. There are professional people who have a wild side. They put on a professional persona during the day and they have this closet freakish side in private.”
“So, are you lesbian? Why won’t you give me an answer, Kye?”
“I will someday, but right now it’s more fun watching you squirm and trying to figure it out. I won’t bite you, Miranda, and I will not try to make you into lesbian. Okay? Just know that I am an activist for gay rights.”
“So, does that mean you are lesbian or you are not? You can be an activist and also be gay.”
We both laugh when Kye stares at me for the longest time then gives me this strange look.
“You just do not give up, do you, Miranda?”
I laugh again.
“I guess I don’t. You just informed me that you will tell me some day and I ask you the question again.”
“It’s perfectly okay. The day will come when I will answer that, but for now, I’m hoping I'm still your friend who you want to hang out with. I don’t usually do things on the level which I’ve been doing with you. There is more to me than gay activism. So, I’m hoping you will calm down and take me as the day you met me and we went to lunch together! Have I even tried to jump your bones?”
We laugh again and we talk, but she is making me more and more confused about if she’s homo or hetero.
“No, you’ve never tried to jump my bones and I may be just acting foolish. It shouldn’t matter if you are lesbian or not. I should be ashamed for asking and being so curious because that is your choice; no matter if I believe it is right or not. I have skeletons in my own closet far worse than if you are gay or not.”
Kye laughs, hops off of my desk, and returns to her work space.
I grab my coffee cup and head to the break room. Nadia has just made a fresh pot of coffee.
“Hi Missy Miss,” Nadia greets me. “How was your weekend? It must have been exciting.”
I look at her suspiciously.
“Why do you say that?” I ask, feeling guilty and paranoid.
Nadia laughs.
“Wow Miranda, what went on in your world for you to react like that?”
“Why, what do you know?”
“What do I know? Lady, what is wrong with you? I only ask because I tried calling you on Friday and Saturday night and you didn’t answer. So I gave up because Sunday was a full day for me.”
“Oh,” I respond, relieved. But, I still have the feeling that she or someone else may have seen me on television at the gay parade or saw me being carried from the bar to Kye’s apartment. Maybe she does not want to own up to seeing me.
“Somehow you seem to be relieved at my response,” Nadia says.
“No, no, I’m just a little jittery. I’m late on filling up with my daily caffeine, you know how that is.”
“Yeah, but I know you, Miranda, and there is something going on in that head of yours. Why is it that I couldn’t reach you this weekend? You have always been available when I called you.”
“No reason, I just decided not to answer the telephones and to relax.”
“Hmm, but I’m just not buying that story. I’m just not buying it! But, I will talk to you later and that’s for definite. I feel like there is male in the mix and that’s something that hasn’t been in your life in a long while. If you do have a new man, I will find out about him. Understand?”
“Nadia, please.”
“Okay, but I will talk to you later, Miranda.”
Nadia walks away.
“Now that was an interesting conversation that went on, there, between you and Nadia,” Kye says right behind me.
I jump.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s okay…and if you don’t know Nadia, you’ll think she is nosy.”
“Yeah, well, you are still jittery about your weekend and if anybody knows anything about your extracurricular activities.”
“Really, Kye, there is nothing to know about my extracurricular activities. I’m inno
cent.”
“Yes, you are innocent, but you are making your weekend activities sound as if you did something wrong by saying that you are innocent.”
“I don’t think that is the case. Can we not talk about that for now, please?”
“Okay.”
Kye throws her hands up as if defeated. I walk back to my desk sipping my coffee and leaving her behind in the break room.
* * * *
I wonder if I am trying to distance myself from Kye. She’s a great person with so much life and spontaneity. She is so much fun to be around as compared to the boring me and other people I have tried to hang with. For the past year, all I’ve ever done was get off work, go to the market or run errands, then go home. In just two weeks, I’ve experienced going out to lunch to a beautiful restaurant by the bay. I have basked in the fresh open air of the ocean instead of having my usual sack lunch at my desk. I dove into something new by visiting a gay bar and that’s something I would have never done in my entire life. And I attended an exciting gay parade where people let down their guard, showing that they are proud to be what they are and they don’t care what other people think.
The words ‘they do not care what other people think’ resonate in my mind. I’ve grown up not worrying about what society thought of me, but to be grounded in my own beliefs. So, now what am I doing? What will I do? I like Kye and some of her friends. I think I made the right choice about not attending the after party on Saturday night. But right now, I don’t know if I will continue to be her friend and that’s sad because she is a wonderful person. This journey into the unknown is making me think too much and too fast and I have to slow the pace.
Either subconsciously or intentionally, the rest of the week I focus on my work. I’m even taking work home with me. Kye remains very friendly at work and talks to me about various things, but backs off of the thorny topic. She is also very busy with work and doesn’t have much time for chit-chatting, yet she invites me to lunch with her and a friend. I turn down her lunch invitation. She has also become a favorite in the office with staff. She has been invited out by employees to participate in extracurricular activities. She extends the invitations to me, but I decline.
Friday soon arrives and Kye offers once again that I attend an event with her and friends. I decline her offer late in the afternoon while we are both in the break room. Upon returning to my desk, I find an envelope on the seat of my chair. It's addressed to me, but is marked personal and confidential. I place the envelope inside my briefcase without reading the contents. I take it home with me.
Stepping outside of the building, I feel something is missing. I figure it out when I realize that Kye usually walks me out, but she left early with coworkers. Feeling a bit jealous, I breathe in the fresh afternoon air and suddenly I feel wild and free. I twirl around and around with my briefcase, barely missing passersby. Of course, they all look at me as if I have something strange going on. Actually, I do have something strange going on inside of me. I let many taxis drive by. Passing by the lesbian club, the Eagle’s Nest, I hear the music coming from inside. I stand there bobbing my head and I begin dancing in the streets. Again, people look at me as if I am losing my mind. It doesn’t matter because some type of rejuvenation is going on inside me. I feel like nothing matters. Nothing matters so much that I find myself inside of the Eagle’s Nest sitting at the bar again.
* * * *
Mick the bartender remembers me. He asks if I want the usual. I smile. The reason he remembers me when I only visited the place once is probably because I passed out and had to be carried out of the bar. I nod my head and he places the shot glass before me. He fills it up numerous times. I look around the club. I feel alive watching the happy hour people dance around, talk, and have fun in the dimly lit room.
Soon, I am approached. Instead of it being a woman, I am pleasantly surprised to see a handsome man sitting next to me asking me a question. I'm so lost in the atmosphere of the room that initially I don't hear his question. I assume he is now asking me the question for the second time.
“May I buy you another shot?” He sounds British, with a posh accent.
“Oh no, I think I may have had too many already.”
“You come here often?”
“No, actually, this is only my second visit.”
“Well, I’m guessing since you returned, it suits you.”
“No, I’m just a curious onlooker. I enjoy watching the people because they throw caution to the wind and just seem so free and open.”
“So, when you say you are curious, do you mean bi-curious, lesbian-curious, or may I ask what type of curious do you mean?”
I look at the man with such bewilderment that I think he is mortified. He takes several drinks before he speaks again. I keep my attention set on the bartender.
“I’m sorry if I said something to offend you. Actually this is my first time here. I knew the type of establishment, but I never had the nerve to come inside.”
“So, now that you are inside, how do you feel being the only male in here besides the bartender? Even the bouncers are female.”
“Well, I feel neither here nor there. I just feel like…well, to be honest, I’ve always had this inkling to meet a lesbian and try to seduce her.”
Once again this man with the James Bond accent shocks me to hell. I stare at the bartender in complete silence.
“Do you find the bartender more interesting than my conversation or am I on a roll with the shock factor tonight?”
I push my shot glass forward and Mick fills it to the rim. I toss it back and I look into the guy’s face.
“'Shock factors' have come into my life so much lately, I'm accustomed to them. I hear you and I shouldn’t be shocked, but I am. So, if you will excuse me, I think it’s time for me to catch a cab.”
“Please don’t go. I generally see things in people like trustworthiness, honesty, good, or bad. Something about you is pretty cool. Do you get what I’m saying?”
“I get it,” I respond with a sigh. “Besides, I’m not ready to go home to an empty house anyway. But, if you turn out to be some type of pervert, I do have mace and a stun gun.”
He laughs then reaches into his jacket pocket. He hands me a business card.
I take the card and slip it into my purse without looking at it. My eyes are too blurry from the alcohol to read the card. I have been drinking too many shots. He may think that I am not interested in him, but that is not the case.
“So, one more shocker question. Do you think you can handle it?”
“Yes…no…yes…wait! I’ll take that shot you offered me first.”
He laughs.
“Okay. Bartender, please give the beautiful lady as many shots as she requires. It’s on me.”
I knock back two or three drinks and then look his way.
“By the way, what is your name?”
“It’s on my business card which you so boldly tossed away, but I’m Alastair.”
“I didn’t toss it. It’s right here in my purse. I know where it is. But, your name—Alastair—and your accent make you British, right?”
“Indeed it does. I’m so glad that you noticed...uh, your name?”
“Miranda, my name is Miranda.”
“So, may I ask the question now, Miranda?”
“Fire away.”
“You say that this is your second visit to this place. So, I’m trying to figure out if you fit in with the crowd.”
“Are you asking if I’m lesbian?”
“Yes.”
I laugh. I laugh until tears form in my eyes. I laugh and laugh and laugh. I laugh my way to the dance floor without responding to Alastair. I twirl around and around and around. I dance to techno and to beats I haven’t danced to in years. Actually, this is my second dance in some three or four years. First, I danced in the streets and now I’m dancing in a lesbian bar. I’m on a roll! I’m alive and free.
I see Alastair looking at me like I'm crazy at first, but then h
e stands close to the dance floor, and claps and cheer me on. His clapping invigorates me, or maybe it’s the alcohol. I’m loose now and going strong. Ladies gather around me as I flail my arms all around and in the air. I’m sure Alastair likes this since he wants to seduce a lesbian. I’m not a lesbian, but he doesn’t know it. I sure feel like one now because I’m being pulled close to women who are grinding on my body, palming my butt, and kissing me on the mouth.
I’ve never experienced being pulled so close by a woman, to feel soft, voluptuous breasts pressing against mine, lips as soft as mine pushing against my mouth, a female tongue parting my lips to touch my tongue. I’ve never had the soft hands of a woman pull me close and pull tightly on my soft butt cheeks. I’m not reciprocating the touches, but my body likes this feeling. Then again, I see my mother’s face looking at me with a mean expression and telling me that I’m sinning by lusting. She’s saying that I am committing a double sin by having a same-sex sexual experience and liking the tingling, electrifying feeling through my body. “Sin, sin, sin!” I hear my mother say.
I watched the women the other night when I was here with Kye. The females enjoyed the same things that are being done to me now. I’m hot and I’m curious how it will feel to be with another women. I’ve got a man wanting me over there and I’ve got several women wanting me on the dance floor. How much more important and popular can I feel than at this moment? I’m riding on cloud nine!
The music changes to a slow beat. It’s like I’m mesmerized by a tall and attractive woman. She approaches and looks into my eyes. She takes the pin from my hair and it tumbles down my back. She holds the small of my back with one hand and caresses my hair. My head rolls back with each stroke of her hands. My eyes roll back in my head as she pulls me closer and closer. I feel her soft breasts pressed against my softness. I feel a longing for her. My panties moisten. I feel her as she licks her lips and come close to my mouth. I hear Alastair and the crowd screaming out for us to do it and suddenly I snap back into reality. I shake my head and turn away. I turn down several invitations to slow dance. I rush to the bar. I ask Mick for my briefcase and purse and I rush out the door. I can hear Alastair calling my name. Women repeat my name from hearing it from Alastair. I hail a cab and get in before any of them could catch up with me. I can hear Alastair screaming.