Brian, attending a meeting of the World Council on Hunger, was clubbed unmercifully in front of the Washington Monument by a group that preached the doctrine of hate formulated during Patrick Olmstead's administration. Although Olmstead had died shortly after his first term as president, these ragtag disciples, dubbed "Olms" by the press, devotedly followed his tenets and relished harassing, and occasionally beating, those gays who chose to remain in the United States during the great exodus.
Although the Olms' violence against American homosexuals was largely ignored, the beating of Brian, a guest from Cali, was considered a particularly despicable act by America's citizenry. After all, two of them, and none knew who, were his parents. Their consciences stirred, Americans sentenced the assailants to long jail sentences, angrily disrupted Olm meetings, and set fire to the DC warehouse that stored their posters and handbills. The mindless oppression of the Olms was broken. Although they remained a political force, the raw power of undisputed violence had been refined.
But that did not soften the heart of Miriam Ekstrom. Outraged by the violence committed against a citizen of Cali, the prime minister refused to allow a Calian to participate in any conferences conducted in the United States. Until now.
"How come we are attending the Conference on the Aging?" an amazed Cara had asked the prime minister upon being informed of her designation as Call's representative. "Has the policy on Cali participation in U.S. conferences been changed?"
"No. Not really. This is simply the first one in eight years covering information that we are interested in sharing," Ms. Ekstrom had responded, eyes twinkling in surprise at the boldness of the young woman's question.
"Esther," said Cara, returning to her present thoughts, "I really am very honored. I hope—whoops, there goes your phone, which should start ringing off the hook about now. The PM was releasing the information as I left her office. There will be no formal press conferences. With less than two weeks to departure, there's much too much to do. Refer all media personnel to the prime minister's press secretary. Call Tim Felmar and tell him I'll call him tomorrow. Oh God, I guess the first thing I had better do is call my mothers. I don't want them to hear this from the tube."
Moving to her desk chair, Cara allowed herself a few moments of private smiling time and then pulled the phone from her pocket, requesting immediate access to her mothers' visual. She knew it would be Sue who would answer—it almost always was—and that was the mother to whom she really wanted to speak. New York had been the senior mother's home for her first twenty years. The exodus had been difficult for those her age, who, as adults, had been forced to leave family and friends rather than live under the restrictive gay gag laws. For Sue, it had also meant giving up medical school and ambitions she conceived in childhood. Her bitterness never quite dissipated. Although Sue and Donna enjoyed a good life in Cali, had been granted Cara, and held responsible positions with the government, an element of anger permeated her life. It was an element common to Calians past the age of fifty.
When Cara's image appeared on the telephone screen in the living room, Donna was lying on the couch with a half-read newspaper. The timer showed four minutes allotted for pickup, more than enough time for Sue to answer.
"Won't you even talk to your own daughter?" asked Sue as she raced into the room. She had just finished showering after spending the morning fertilizing the vegetable garden. Dark wet hair peeked from under a terry cloth turban. A bath towel hung around her neck.
"I'd rather just sit here and watch her." Staring at the life-size monitor from her recliner, Donna put the newspaper aside and watched Cara sort through the papers on her desk, her eyes frequently glancing at the flickering light of the telephone. "Look at her, Sue. I know she's not ours biologically, but somehow, there has to be a connection."
"Why do you say that?"
"She's beautiful." Donna grinned. "That long sun-washed blonde hair, it's just like my mother's. Mom even wore it that way…loose, just long and loose, in waves down to her shoulders. Her blue eyes. They're your father's. Soft neon blue. Talkative. Those eyes speak. And they smile. Just look at the way they smile. She's excited about something. Can't you tell?" Donna walked up to the screen and outlined Cara's face as she turned to speak to Esther who dropped some documents into the red box. "The shape of her lace. That's your lather's too. Crisp angles without harshness. And those wonderful pale freckles that belonged to your mother. They lend such warmth to her soft cheekbones. And just watch her, Sue. Watch the way she uses her beauty. Turns her head at just the right angles. Plays her eyes like an instrument. All that, she must have gotten from you."
"And what, pray tell, did she get from you?"
"Her tall, slim lines. Assertiveness. And her radiance, of course."
"Yeah, right." Sue chuckled, playfully swatting at Donna with the bath towel as she reached up and pressed the visual button. "You're on, Cara. Excuse my robe. I'm just out of the shower."
"That's okay. I'm glad I got you both." Cara peered into her mini desk screen, adjusting the volume. "Good news and I want to make sure you hear it from me first. The prime minister just announced that I'll be Cali's representative at the World Conference on the Aging in New York City next month." She spoke quickly, trying to deny her mothers their objections. "I can barely believe it. You are talking to the woman who is going to be the first Calian to visit the United States in eight years."
"I'm not sure that makes me happy." Sue cast an annoyed eye at Donna who was smiling in approval.
"Come on Mom, please be happy for me. It's a wonderful opportunity. Nothing bad is going to happen. Tim Felmar—he has an excellent reputation—is going with me as the escort officer, so I'll be well protected."
"Felmar?" Donna interrupted. "His lover, Glen, is my secretary. He didn't say a word about this."
"This is probably the first secret the governing council has ever kept," muttered Sue. "Cara, I'm sure this must mean a great deal to you, and I can't stop you from attending, but I want you to know that I don't approve. New York is a dangerous place. It's not like Cali. It doesn't even resemble Cali. It's like no place you've ever been."
"That's exactly why I want to go."
"Spoken just like mother Sue's daughter." Chuckling mischievously, Donna bent clown and picked up the bath towel that had fallen to the floor, kissing the back of Sue's neck as she draped it around her shoulders.
They spoke for a few more minutes, Cara promising to spend the weekend with them before abruptly ending the conversation in order to take another phone call. She hesitated before pressing the response button. The call did not come in on the visual mode, but the return number that now blinked across the screen was the most familiar one in her collection. It was Jody's.
"Are you in or out?" asked Esther's voice on the intercom. "And you'd better make a quick decision. The way the phone is ringing, I don't have a lot of time to wait on you."
"Well, okay, I'll take it. Jody may be just what I need to bring me back down to reality." Still, she sat for another few moments staring at the receiver. Twice she reached for the audio button. Twice she pulled her hand back. Finally, after pushing her own visual switch to off, she took a deep breath and turned on the speaker.
She began. "I see news really travels fast when you're a member of the prime minister's inner circle."
Surprised by the uncharacteristic sarcasm, Jody hesitated before responding, "Catty, catty, catty." Nervously, she paced the room. This was not going to be an easy conversation. She was glad she had not turned on the visual. "That's not like you, Cara. Besides, I didn't hear it from the PM. It's been announced on the news. You're all over the tube. Cara Romero is going to New York City as the Calian representative to the World Conference on the Aging. You have to be deaf, dumb, and blind not to have heard it."
"Sorry. That was rude of me. I apologize. So, how have you been?" Just the sound of Jody's voice was enough to crimp her good humor. Oh well, she thought. Maybe Jody is the karma to keep me from
outgrowing humble.
"Fine. I've been fine. Say, maybe we ought to get this out in the open right now. Margo may be the PM's daughter, but that doesn't give me access to privileged information. As far as the PM is concerned, when it comes to government, I'm like any other Calian."
Irritated by her own defensive reaction to Jody's call, Cara began stumbling over her words. "Look, it's been eight months since we've spoken. I don't understand. Why are you calling? I'm sure it's not to say congratulations. And you said everything else you had to say to me eight months ago when you chastised me for my long list of imperfections. Or did you miss something?"
Jody felt the anger rise in her cheeks. "Now wait a minute. Let's be fair. You're the one who wanted out. You're the one who didn't want a committed relationship. I wanted you. And you know it. You voted to end our relationship. Why are you so angry at me? Is it because I found someone else? Is that why Cara? Because I'm happy?"
Yes. No. I don't know, thought Cara. In a self-nurturing gesture, she ran her fingers through the shock of hair that fell across her forehead and spoke again. "I'm sorry. Really sorry. Maybe the upcoming trip has made me a little more tense than usual. I just learaed about it a few hours ago and I haven't quite absorbed it all yet."
"That's fair." There was a long pause before Jody continued, "I'm not sure whether I should even ask this now, but the reason I was calling was to see if you would join me for dinner before you leave for New York. Tomorrow night, perhaps, or sometime over the weekend? Is it possible?" Considering the way the conversation had begun, Jody flinched, expecting an unequivocal no.
"Yes, it's possible. It might even be nice, but the weekend is out. I promised my mothers that I would spend it with them. Let me look at my schedule for tomorrow." Cara knew her calendar was open, but she needed a few minutes to compose herself. She lowered her voice to a normal range and inhaled deeply. "Tomorrow is good. You name the time and place."
"Topanga's at eight." Tension relieved, Jody sat down and began doodling on the computer screen. "And it will just be the two of us. Margo won't be coming."
"I assumed that. I don't know that I'm quite ready to meet her, so it's just as well. Topanga's at eight. See you then." Just before hanging up, she quickly added, "And Jody, I really am sorry. I'll try to clean up my behavior before tomorrow."
Cara pressed the termination button, leaned hack, and put her feet up on the desk. She stared at the vacant phone monitor, beckoning it to give her some answers. What the hell was that all about? she wondered. / was angry, really angry. And Jody is absolutely right—if I had agreed to a commitment ceremony, she never would have looked for anyone else. I refused. And now I 'm angry. Is it because she's with someone else? 1'bat doesn 't make sense. What's going on? She sat and mused over the problem for the better part of an hour. Maybe I'm just lonely, she decided. Maybe it's simply time for a new relationship.
Three
Cara tried to enter Topanga's unnoticed, but that was an impossibility for the popular member of Cali's cabinet. Table after table jumped up to greet her, some with handshakes, others with hugs. Most people had already heard the news and there were calls of congratulations and spurts of applause.
Good heavens, thought Jody. It's like ivatching the wave at the sports arena. People rose and sat, rose and sat. And Jody stood among them and patiently waited for Cara to reach the table, attentively studying the body that fashion designers loved to dress. Long and sensuous with legs that wouldn't quit. And Cara knew how to flatter them— with flowing silk pants that began at the hip line and ended grazing the floor. What Jody didn't know, of course, was how many hours Cara had spent selecting tonight's wardrobe. She had been in and out of her closet all day, picking and discarding until she was satisfied. She had finally chosen the light blue silk blouse with the darker blue pinstripe silk pants.
"On you, hip-huggers look superfluous," said Jody as she reached the table. Cara paused for a moment, warmly looking at the woman whose body had given her so much pleasure over the years. It was just a moment, but long enough to convey the affection she was feeling.
Hugging Jody with a familiar exuberance, she spoke in her usual high-spirited fashion, forgetting her resolve to remain aloof. "I've missed you. Oh, how I've missed you." She extended her arms, holding the attractive woman by the shoulders and searching her face. "You look wonderful. Margo must be very good for you."
Jody smiled in the self-conscious manner that Cara always elicited and nodded. "Yes, she is. She's a good person. A very special woman." She brushed back her auburn hair and awkwardly waited for Cara to sit, not quite sure whether the etiquette they had established during their three years together was still in effect. But Cara didn't hesitate, and Jody relaxed as she continued the conversation. "But I've missed you too. It was good seeing you walk in that door. It was—I don't know—just natural." She paused to take the menu from the waiter. "I'm starved. I'd like to order before we talk if that's okay with you."
Cara studied Jody as she read the menu and was surprised by the warm flush of her own reaction. She was absolutely adorable. Not beautiful. Maybe not even very pretty. But adorable! The soft auburn hair curled around the gamine, almost waiflike face with the sparkling brown eyes—wonderful, expressive eyes that were almost too large for the delicate balance of features. And those incredible lips. Full, soft lips. Kissable lips. So lovely, thought Cara. If only she had been less jealous, less controlling, more the soft person of her appearance and less the adversarial creation of her legal training. If only I had been able to be the person she wanted. If only I had been less independent, less driven—Jody interrupted her thoughts. "I'm going to have the angel hair pasta with goat cheese and sun-dried tomatoes."
"Soft tacos with Brie and wild mushrooms for me. Iced tea. And bottled water for both of us." Cara smiled at the waiter, then turned to face Jody. Placing her elbows on the table, she leaned forward, not speaking until the waiter moved on to the next party. "Now you must tell me what this dinner is really about." Reaching for the switch, she flicked on the aromatic mist that sat in the triangular recess in the center of the table. "Almost like old times." She smiled.
"Why don't we enjoy our meal first, business later?" Jody leaned across with crinkled nose and squinted eyes and sniffed the sweet odor. "Cinnamon. The verdict is cinnamon."
"Spoken like the attorney I've known and loved," said Cara, as they put up their hands and high-fived.
"Sincerely said. Sincerely taken." Jody laughed.
Anyone watching the two women dine would have thought they were lovers. There was something about the way they inclined their heads when they spoke, the familiar manner with which Jody reached over and tasted food from Cara's plate, the lowering of eyes as they exchanged smiles of intimacy. Even their behaviors complemented each other. Cara, so animated and energetic, her speech punctuated by her body's gestures. In contrast, Jody was reserved anci dignified. She sat erect and still, only her eyes giving expression to her speech. In actuality, their behavior emulated each other's appearance.
"I've had it," said Jody when she finished the main course. "I can't eat another thing, but don't let that stop you from enjoying dessert."
"Nothing ever stops me from enjoying dessert." Cara ordered two hazelnut coffees and Topanga's famous seven layer chocolate cake, tilted her chair, and stretched her legs under the table. Finding Jody's loot, she tapped it with her own and asked in a deliberately plaintive voice, "Now, isn't it time yet? I'm having a perfectly wonderful evening, but aren't you ever going to tell me why we're having this reunion?"
Jody leaned forward, placing her forearms on the table. Cocking her head to one side in the "I'm getting serious" mannerism with which Cara was familiar, she spoke hesitantly. "There is something I want you to do for me when you're in New York."
Cara sat up straighter in her chair, apprehensive about what was to follow. She knew Jody well enough to know that this would not be an easy request to fill.
"I want you to try to
contact an American woman named Barbra. She is an older woman, in her early sixties—"
Cara cut her off, almost angry. "It's against the law for me to make personal contacts. You know that."
Jody reached across the table and covered Cara's hand with her own, a characteristic gesture that meant "just listen." "Hear me out on this. It's important. Barbra is not just anybody. She is the prime minister's lover."
"You mean she was the prime minister's lover."
"No. I mean she is."
"Come again?" Cara removed her hand from under Jody's and sat erect in her chair, looking at her with an incredulous expression. "You'd better give me some details on this."
"'Was' would have been correct at one time." Providing as much detail as she knew, she related the story of the women's relationship prior to the exodus from the United States in the year 2022. Waiting for a reaction, she paused and ordered another cup of coffee. "Hotter than the first," she called to the waiter.
"We're still on 'was.' I must be missing something. How did it become 'is'? How is it possible for a Calian to be involved in a love affair with an American citizen?"
"In 2047," continued Jody, "Brian Rayford, Cali's representative to the World Council on Hunger, was badly beaten on the streets of Washington, DC. Private physicians were afraid to treat the gay man. Dr. Barbra Weissman, a documented homosexual working for the United States government in California, was called in."
"How did she become a physician?"
"After the exodus to Cali there was a serious shortage of doctors in the United States. The government offered free tuition and subsidized living to those willing to work for the federal government after the completion of medical training. Barbra qualified for the program because health care personnel were needed to work in the area of homosexual testing and deportation."
The Meadowlark Sings Page 2