Donna’s brother spoke first. He shared memories of them growing up together; some happy, some sad. “I remember how confused and emotionally torn I was when my parents forced Donna to leave home. They had found out she was a lesbian. She was seventeen, I was fourteen. I remember not knowing why she had to leave. Somehow I thought it was something she could control. I called her where she was staying and cried and pleaded with her to come home. Donna was crying too and kept trying to explain what was happening. We had been so close. In a strange way, it made me feel unimportant to her. I felt like she had abandoned me. It wasn’t until we were adults that I realized what an impact prejudice and ignorance had had on our lives. We became close friends once again. And now, prejudice and ignorance has taken her from me again.” Tears now streamed steadily down his face. “And I don’t know when I’ll get to see her again.” He tilted his head back and took a deep breath, an attempt to regain control enough to finish. With a quivering lip, he managed. “We cannot let their deaths be in vain. This may have been a battle lost, but we all must realize that the war goes on.”
Connie and everyone around her were blotting their eyes at this point. But Sharon was having an exceptionally difficult time. Her head was buried in her hand, and her body shook as she tried futilely to control her crying. The hand closest to Connie was resting on her leg, clenching a Kleenex. Without reservation, Connie reached over and took her hand. Face still covered, body racked with emotion, Sharon opened her hand to Connie’s. The gesture hadn’t gone unnoticed. A few seconds later, Kasey found Connie’s eyes. She squeezed her hand and acknowledged her compassion as one more reason she loved her.
Evonne’s daughter, Jenny, now stood before them. She cleared her throat and began. “There are no words that could tell you how much my mother has meant to me. I have only begun to feel what losing her and Donna is going to mean in my life. I learned so much from them. I learned how important love is, and I learned honesty. I learned how to be strong and how to give. They taught me so many things, things that are so valuable to me that I am making sure to instill those values in my own children. It saddens me that Mom and Donna will never see how much that meant to me. And it saddens me that my children will grow up without their love and example. But along with all the wonderful things I gained from them, I also learned about hatred and bigotry. I watched them quietly fight it every day. They were well aware of the war, as Jeff called it, but they never felt like they were called to be on the front line. They tried to live a quiet, peaceful, normal life. They were loving and giving and happy. They were friendly, probably to a fault.” The tears were apparent against her cheeks now, her voice unsteady. “But for some inexplicable reason, they’ve been taken from us. I guess if I’ve learned anything at all from their deaths, I’ve realized that, whether we know it or not, we are all in this war.” She was openly crying now, speaking in short phrases. “We’ve got to put aside ... our complacency ... find ways to eliminate this hatred ... If we don’t ... everyone will suffer.”
As Jenny sat down into her husband’s embrace, Tom inconspicuously started the tape in the portable stereo. It was one he and Kasey had made a couple of years ago. Everyone knew the impossibility of Kasey singing today. The tape was perfect. Her beautiful voice soon filled the tent, reaching into the hearts gathered there, offering words almost too painful. “If I’d only known it was the last walk in the rain ...” Connie recognized the beginning of the song Reba McIntyre had dedicated to her band members killed in an accident. She knew the words would say what so many in that tent were feeling, but couldn’t say.
The soothing sound and poignant words filled the thick fog of silence enveloping the gathering. Pastor Griffin stood between the coffins, head lowered, silently praying. A long minute passed before she spoke. “‘If I had only known ...’But we don’t know most times. We can’t. We’re not God. We don’t know His plan, or His schedule. So we have to love while we can, use every precious moment possible to express our love. If there is a problem, we must resolve it. If there is a misunderstanding, we must correct it. We must not let time lull us into believing that later will be better. If you should thank someone, do it now. If you need to forgive someone, or tell someone you love them, do it today. Don’t wait, don’t put it off.” She paused for a moment, possibly to let the full impact of her message be felt. “That was their legacy to us. The life Donna and Evonne lived together. A life of quiet example, of courage and love. Losing them has made us all look at their example closely and personally.”
Connie realized, during that moment, how much it was helping to concentrate on her face, on her message. She studied this woman of God, with her soft loving eyes and powerful words.
“I’m going to ask everyone right now to take the hand of the person on either side of you. This is the hand of a special being whom God has made. They may be black or white, male or female, gay or straight, Protestant or Catholic. They may have money, they may have none. But there is one thing to be sure of, they have a soul. A soul created in love, to be nourished by love. Squeeze that hand now in acknowledgment of that precious soul. You don’t need to know anything else about that person unless you wish. But know this. Each of us needs to love and to be loved, to be happy in this world.”
Again she paused, closing her eyes prayerfully. Raising a hand above each coffin, she tilted her face upward and said, “Pray with me now as we say good-bye to our friends. Dear God, we know Your love is immeasurable and unfailing. Help us now to entrust these precious souls, Donna and Evonne, to Your eternal loving care. Through Your Holy Spirit, give us the strength and courage to continue loving and forgiving despite our terrible loss. We will never forget them or stop missing them, but we’ll look forward to seeing them again with You. In our Lord Jesus’ name, we ask You now to take them in Your loving arms and grant them eternal happiness. Amen.”
As people let go of hands and wiped their eyes, she ended the service with these words: “Stop now for just a second. Take a deep breath. Come back to the reality of what life is all about. Cherish every moment, every breath, every soul. Be everything you can be. Don’t wait. God has given us His love as an example. Go now and love one another.”
Thirty
Kasey snapped down the last leg, and Sharon set the last of the rented tables in place in her basement.
“I picked up the chairs yesterday, Kase. They’re still in the Blazer.” She tossed the keys across the table. “Pull it around back and we’ll unload them next. Then we can take a break.”
Kasey wanted to believe Sharon was wrong about the handling of the case and that today’s meeting wasn’t necessary. But it had been three months since the murders, and there was still no mention of a hearing or trial date in the media. Through daily contact with Jenny, Sharon was aware of the families’ concerns, the most recent of which was the prosecutor’s apparent lack of conviction in speaking out about the case. Jenny’s concern was now theirs. Was it a professionally masked homophobia that made him less than enthusiastic with his assignment?
Two folding chairs in each hand, Kasey misjudged the clearance and banged her right hand against the edge of the sliding door. “Shit! Dammit, Sharon! I thought you said you’d fixed this damn thing.” She slammed the chairs down and rubbed her bruised knuckles. “It still doesn’t slide all the way open.”
When she didn’t hear Sharon’s typical sarcasm in response, she looked over and found her on the phone. The look on her face made Kasey smile despite the pain. It was one of those looks your brother might give you when you said something in front of your parents that you’d never get away with otherwise. Sharon—stifled. It was comical.
Kasey returned with four more chairs, being careful this time to clear the narrow opening. So many times she had wished this whole thing could be over. She needed normalcy in her life, if there was such a thing. She didn’t mind helping the families. That wasn’t it. Everyone had been wonderful about volunteering their time and efforts. Connie helped get their financial af
fairs in order. Sage and Sharon had been taking care of the animals. She, herself, had dedicated every weekend to helping organize and sort household belongings, a difficult and emotional task. Decisions as to what to keep, what to give away, what to sell, were emotionally draining. She had never even finished going through her mother’s things. Sentiment and logic were often in conflict. It would be a long process. But what they all needed soon was some sort of closure.
“I knew it.” Sharon hung up the phone and stood abruptly. Hands on her hips, she exclaimed, “My instincts were right.”
“What happened?”
“Crawford’s lawyer was granted a delay to allow his client to check into a hospital. He claims Crawford’s health is failing. Additional stress from a hearing will put his life in danger. The prosecutor didn’t even challenge it, and there’s no date set for a hearing.”
“How could they have kept this quiet so long?”
“Why is even more important.”
“I wonder if they have any idea of how closely they’re being watched by the gay community?”
“They will after today.”
Despite the sensationalism of a case involving lesbians, it had run its natural course in the media. Linda Sterns, director of the state Gay and Lesbian Task Force, agreed that it was important to keep the media’s attention. But she advised against hit-and-miss tactics. She volunteered her services for today’s meeting to help plot an objective, organized approach.
Sharon introduced a plain, bespectacled Linda Sterns to forty-five women determined to do whatever was necessary to ensure justice.
“As many of you know, Sharon and I have been active in the local and statewide organization for years now. We are constantly trying to encourage more lesbians to get involved with our organization, either openly or behind the scenes. It has not been an easy task. For years, gay men have been the mainstay of our organization. And until recently, we have had very few women willing to be openly involved. What we have also found, unfortunately, is that until something like the recent tragedy occurs most don’t see it as a personal fight. It has to hit home first. And now it has, or you wouldn’t be here today.” She looked into serious, intent faces of women touched by tragedy, many of whom had never before attended a meeting like this. “What I’m here to tell you is that you must see the problem in its entirety. You must recognize its enormity and what impact your efforts can have on its resolution.” The faces were open, waiting for guidance. “My belief is that that recognition, that understanding, will be easier to see at first right here in your own city, your own neighborhood, your own workplace. Then, the confidence in the power of your voice and your numbers can be felt on a larger scale. Many women, including lesbians, are now beginning to realize their social and political power on a national level. But for you, for now, it’s got to start here. Here is where it is most important.”
Like a college professor welcoming a new batch of first-year students, Linda Sterns scanned the attentive faces. “Now that you’ve been properly inspired, we should get to the task at hand.” A smile finally lightened her face. “Sharon has arranged you into small groups to discuss ideas for actions you think appropriate. We have outlined the problem to be acted upon on the large paper hanging on the wall. When we meet again as a whole, a spokesperson from each group will list your group’s ideas. Then we’ll categorize them and begin the tedious task of prioritizing and decision-making. Sharon?”
Sharon listed the groups and where they were to meet. “Remember, this is a brainstorming session. That means every idea that is spoken must be listed. No decision about validity is made during this part. I’ll come and get you in thirty minutes.”
When they met again as a whole, they went about the task of formalizing the final list. The ideas ranged from the absurd to the obvious. A public execution by masked vigilante lesbians was out. But finding a public venue for openly discussing the issue was an obvious choice to be placed high on the list. They decided that a march in front of city hall, showing interest from all over the state, would get the media involved again. Plus, it would probably result in at least one on-camera interview. Getting a couple of people on local television and radio talk shows was another choice high on the list. They would push for getting both a representative from the families and one from the gay community on to discuss the full ramifications of the crime. Sending letters to the editors of the two area newspapers was also placed on the final list, as was a long-term plan of increased openness in the community. But probably the most dramatic decision was to investigate, and to aggressively pursue, a change in prosecutors.
Connie left the meeting with a lot of good feelings about finally being a part of some positive action. It was against her basic nature to sit back and not even try to change things. She hated the feeling of powerlessness. Yet she hadn’t forgotten that the extent of her involvement was not solely up to her anymore. Kasey had made no indication she wanted to be involved any further. With Donna and Evonne’s deaths an everconstant reminder of the extent of society’s intolerance, fear was a natural, understandable response. But the same fear that seemed to paralyze Kasey served to infuriate Connie Bradford. She fought succumbing to it, fought letting hate and ignorance have their way without a fight. She knew she must find some way, some positive channel into which she could direct her anger, with Kasey, preferably. But if not, she would do it silently and discreetly alone.
“I realized something today, honey,” Connie began. “I’ve realized that Sharon, despite her own intolerance and opinionated principles, is a wise woman.”
Kasey lifted her eyebrows in surprise.
“She knows an important truth, and with all she holds sacred she wants you to see it too.”
“What are you saying?”
“She knows that lesbians who look like you and me and gay men like Tom and Michael have the power to ultimately tip the scales.” Her eyes bore seriously into Kasey’s. “There are a lot of us, aren’t there?”
“More than anyone could imagine.”
“Tucked safely into the nooks and crannies of society.” Kasey nodded.
“What would happen if something in the chemical makeup of homosexuals reacted with some mineral in water, and without a choice, we all turned green?”
Kasey laughed at the classic speculation. “Heterosexuals would turn very pale and shit their pants. But lucky for them, we do have a choice.”
“But don’t you see? Coming out like that is the only weapon that can prevent what happened to Evonne and Donna from happening again.”
“Not enough would ever come out to have that kind of impact. And for those who did, it would just get more dangerous.”
There was a long silence as they got ready for bed. Finally, Connie pressed the subject further. “Are we going to be a part of the demonstration next week?”
“We’d be essentially coming out.”
“I know.”
Kasey saw that she had made it again, the invitation no other lover had ever made. She had offered the possibility Kasey refused to contemplate. “No, it’s not up to me. You’d better think this out more thoroughly. The media will be there. Someone from work is bound to see you.” Kasey popped her head around the corner of the bathroom. “Are you really ready to come out to Jack?”
“I’ve thought about it.”
“What if his reaction is bad and he makes life miserable for you at work ... or fires you?”
“I can always go out on my own. I’ve played with the idea before. The loss of benefits would be the hardest adjustment.” Smiling to herself, she added, “I already have one account.”
Kasey emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel. “Yes, but it doesn’t pay very well.”
“Oh, yes it does.” She pulled the spread neatly to the end of the bed. “That account has made me the richest person in the world.”
She felt Kasey’s arms encircle her waist from behind. Her lips were warm and tender on her neck. They hadn’t made love since the f
uneral, and over the weeks the conflict between Connie’s understanding and her patience had become noticeable. When they talked about it, Kasey had difficulty putting her feelings into words. It wasn’t easy for her to talk about the haunting thought that if only she had gone to help that weekend maybe she could have done something to prevent the murders. Even harder was dealing with the guilt she felt from even a fleeting thought of gratefulness that she wasn’t there. It was easy to see, placed in that perspective, that sexual gratification seemed selfish and unimportant to her.
Intimacy, though, had been important, and they’d spent many nights just holding each other and talking. And there’d been other nights when Connie had awakened to find Kasey on the other side of the bed, crying quietly. She would spend the rest of the night comforting her, holding her, trying to give her enough peace to sleep. It was a deep pain, not easily soothed. She understood why someone like Kasey might never be able to come out.
Connie pressed her cheek against Kasey’s and leaned back into her embrace. “I want you to know I’m very proud of you. I fell in love with you partly because of the depth of your emotions and your passion. And I know, with that comes a high vulnerability to pain. Courage is a very personal thing. It doesn’t have to be a debate on Oprah or telling the truth to the Pentagon or even to your boss. It can be as quiet as walking away from a gay joke or as singular as telling a parent or a best friend. Or as powerful as loving a woman. You are a courageous woman, Kasey.”
The soft voice whispered against her ear, “I love you.”
Connie turned to her lover and embraced her. “We need to start taking care of us, honey. I need to feel close to you. I need to make love with you.” As she spoke, the soft warmth of Kasey’s lips along her neck began sending their message through the rest of her body. “Oh, yes, I need you. I need to feel you against me.” The towel fell quickly, along with Connie’s T-shirt. The touch of Kasey’s warm skin brought instant arousal. Connie’s whisper brushed against Kasey’s ear. “The first time I felt your skin against me, I thought I was in heaven. I didn’t think anything could feel that good—” she nestled into Kasey’s embrace “—until I came to you.”
Marianne K. Martin - Love in the Balance Page 18