In Every Port

by Karin Kallmaker

  "I see. Well, I guess this is goodbye, Jessica. It was nice knowing you."

  Jessica wanted to cry, but she merely shook Roberta's hand gravely.

  She hurriedly changed into jeans and a sweater, and then went across to Cat's door. There was no answer to her knock. She didn't have a key because there had never been a need.

  They hadn't talked about living together, although the words had trembled on Jessica's lips several times. It was too soon. Cat could still find that life with her wasn't what she wanted. Herself observed that Cat didn't seem to be having any problems with the situation. The hesitancy seemed to all be on Jessica's side.

  She went back home and sat down in the living room in a stupor. Why hadn't she said "Roberta, this is my lover, Cat Merrill?" But no, she had introduced Cat like an acquaintance, as if she were a one-night stand.

  "Fool, fool, fool," she called Herself, over and over. Herself refused to take the blame. She went walking in the Park, looking for Cat. There were a lot of pretty blonde women, but none of them was a very special pretty blonde, short, brown-eyed, and adorable in every way.

  Cat wasn't at O'Malley's, or the corner grocery, or the pizza place. Jessica walked and walked, getting more and more upset. She was to blame. She went back to Cat's door and knocked, but there was no answer. She tried the knob, but the door was truly locked.

  Now you've done it, Herself commented. You finally tell her you love her and she's already dumped you.

  She hasn't dumped me!

  She never said she loved you, did she?

  Well, no, but she does. She just doesn't know how much, yet.

  Dream on. She's decided you're just a slut and she doesn't want to sleep with you again.

  No, no!

  Well, what would you think if you saw Cat with an airhead disco fiend like Roberta, in those tight pants and even tighter shirt?

  I'd think she was easy, Jessica admitted. I'd think she'd sure slept around, and not with very much discrimination.

  She cried until she slept.

  The next morning her eyes were swollen and puffy and her nose was horribly red. I look like death warmed over, she thought. She wanted Cat to come home from work so they could talk. She had never meant to love Cat so much that being apart like this would hurt so much — it had just happened. It was almost dark when she heard footsteps and a key in the door across from hers.

  She threw open her door and Cat turned from her own door to look at her.

  "Cat, I don't know what to say. I'm sorry." Jessica tried to control her shaking voice and shaking hands. She wanted to talk about this calmly.

  "What for?" Cat asked softly. She turned and walked into her apartment. Jessica followed slowly. "You only love me. You never talked about anything more."

  "Love is everything," Jessica said, somewhat incoherently. Tears trickled down her face. "I don't know why I was suddenly afraid. I was afraid to say 'this is my lover.' "

  "What the hell are you afraid of, Jessica? You've had longer than I have to get used to the idea of being gay, but you won't go all the way, will you? You're so damned cautious." She whirled around and flashed at Jessica, "I won't be your mistress, damn it! I won't let you screw me every night and then fade into the background whenever anyone else is around! I think you'd better go. I have a busy week ahead of me and I need some sleep." Cat turned her back on Jessica.

  "Can we talk tomorrow night?" Jessica whispered.

  Cat nodded but said nothing.

  Jessica backed out of Cat's living room and shut the door. She thought she heard a stifled sob, but knew it was just her imagination. Cat just didn't love her.

  THIRTEEN

  Beginnings

  Jessica hung out of her window all evening, watching for Cat.

  Herself was thoroughly disgusted with the entire situation. This is really undignified.

  I don't care. I have to see her.

  Well, then at least get some work done while you wait. How do you expect to keep a roof over your head if you don't work? Herself was convinced someone had to be practical about this whole situation.

  I'll work tomorrow. Or next week. I just can't work right now.

  The sun had long since set when a bus pulled up at the corner, and a petite figure in a black suit got off and walked slowly up the street.

  She wiped her eyes on her shirt. She had to talk to her. She waited until she heard Cat's footsteps in the hall, then her key in her door. Jessica opened her door and stared across the hallway.

  Cat slowly turned from her open door, staring back at Jessica. With a deep sigh, she held out her arms.

  Jessica flew across the corridor, and flung herself into Cat's arms. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she sobbed, over and over.

  "God, I'm sorry, too. I tried to forget about you, but I couldn't," Cat breathed.

  "I've been beside myself," Jessica said, her breathing still shaky. She pulled her head back and looked into Cat's eyes. They were bloodshot.

  "So have I," Cat said, wearily. "Come on in and let me change. Then we can talk."

  Jessica sat down on Cat's couch, listening to the rustle of her clothing and the sounds of her moving around in her bedroom. Cat joined her on the couch, wearing jeans and a T-shirt.

  "I'm so sorry, Cat," Jessica began, but Cat reached out for her hand and shushed her.

  "No, I'm sorry. Let me just get this out, okay?" Cat said as Jessica tried to interrupt her. "I knew you were caught off guard by that woman showing up. And we hadn't talked about 'us.' We hadn't talked about 'us' because I didn't want to. Sex with you is great. It's the best I've ever had. I felt great. I could go to work, go to bed with you, and my life would go on pretty much as before. No risks, no dangers, no complications."

  Cat fell silent, then slowly stroked the hand she was holding as she went on. "When you introduced me to Roberta I suddenly saw the whole picture. I suddenly realized that I could go on characterizing our relationship as completely sexual and put it down to some peculiar sex need I had. But then I realized I was jealous. I was jealous of her and jealous that you'd been with other women. I wanted you all for myself. Not just for sex, but for keeps." Cat swallowed and took a deep breath. "I realized I loved you. And I wasn't sure you loved me."

  "But I told you I did. I do love you," Jessica protested.

  "You said it while we were making love. I'm sorry, Jessica, but I thought you must say that to all of us," she choked, then swallowed. "All your women."

  Jessica took Cat's face in her hands. She gazed into Cat's eyes. "I've never said those words before in my life."

  "I believe you," Cat said after a moment. "So why did you introduce me like that, like I was some woman you picked up?"

  "That's not what I was doing," Jessica protested. She let go of Cat.

  "You acted as if you were ashamed of me," Cat said gently. "At least that's how I saw it."

  "I'm not ashamed of you. I'm ashamed of myself. I was ashamed that you were seeing what I was before I met you."

  "You're kidding."

  "No, I looked at Roberta and she's very nice, but I treated her like a sex object when I knew her. I didn't care about her brains, only her body. She may have brains, but I don't know. I couldn't bear you to see how easy I was before. I let Roberta pick me up."

  "That's in the past, isn't it? We have the future to think about."

  Cat went to make some tea and Jessica calmed down, finally. Her head hurt and her eyes stung, but she was at last sure that she and Cat were going to be together. Cat sat down next to her with the cups. They sipped in silence, then Jessica put her cup down. She crept into the circle of Cat's arm and laid her head on Cat's thigh. "I'm sorry about Roberta," she said in a small voice.

  "And I'm sorry I got so mad — I surprised myself. I have to get used to this, to you, to us. Look, let's not talk about the future right now. Give ourselves some time, okay?"

  Jessica nodded. "We have all the time in the world."

  Jessica lay in a very empty and lonely
hotel bed in Denver. She was speaking for the next two days. Herself was looking forward to it. Jessica was missing Cat horribly.

  It was all Cat's fault, she told Herself crossly. Cat had kissed her goodbye a few short hours ago, and her kiss had been inviting and wanting.

  "There isn't any time," Jessica had gasped. "Because you kept me in bed all afternoon."

  "I know. Miss me while you're away?" Cat had asked, her eyes dancing with the delight of driving Jessica to distraction.

  "Of course. Kiss me again."

  Groaning, she rolled over in bed. She would never get to sleep. She sat up and turned the light on. Fumbling in the pseudo-Queen Anne desk, she found some hotel stationery and an envelope. She made some space to write. It would sure be a hell of P lot more comfortable if I could move this lamp out of the way, Jessica thought to Herself. Herself whined about lack of sleep. But once the pen was in Jessica's hand the words flowed out of her.

  I am unable to sleep. Memory comes between me and sleep and I find myself using memory as delightful torment.

  Never could I have believed I would love this way. Coolly, remotely, distantly, yes I imagined all of that. But to have lost myself completely, out of control, this I never imagined. To love in such a way that I am sure, despite all the books and poetry to the contrary, that no one has ever loved the way I love you. I am the rings to your Saturn, my love.

  I know we agreed to give ourselves time — but please imagine that there is candlelight. Soft music surrounds you and me, alone together. You smile at me over the rim of a wine glass, your face reflecting the golden light. I take your hand and kneel at your side.

  This is how I envision it. Thanksgiving Day I was planning to — I can't wait. Away from you I feel tenfold the wretchedness I feel every moment when you are away from me. I hate the ten minutes it takes you to go to your apartment and pick out your clothes in the morning. I dread that each morning, yet I say nothing because there is really only one solution to it and I have not yet been brave enough to suggest it. My emptiness has become my courage.

  If I ramble, you should know it is well after midnight and I am groggy from lack of sleep and tensely exhausted from longing for your smile, your kiss. I had planned that on Thanksgiving I would ask you to be with me. I would ask you to let me be with you, lover and partner, wife and wife.

  Perhaps I won't mail this. Or if I do mail it, I'll beat it home and steal it out of the mailbox before you see it. I am so frightened of your answer. I know the honesty and depth of what you feel for me, and my mind says to trust in you.

  At the risk of being horribly old-fashioned and dated, my love,

  — will you marry me?

  She stared down at her neatly printed words. They looked so cold on the paper. She wished there were some way to make the paper warm so that when Cat held it she would know how Jessica was burning.

  Jessica's hand was shaking slightly as she dialed Cat's number. You know there's no way she'll have received the letter yet, Herself observed. Calm down. She'll get it Federal Express tomorrow. You promised to call tonight.

  "Hello," the soft voice said and Jessica shivered.

  "Hi. It's me," she answered.

  "Hello me," Cat said. "I miss you."

  "Me, too. I mean I don't miss me, I miss you, too," Jessica fumbled. "I don't know why I feel so shy all of a sudden."

  "This is the first time we've talked by phone since . . . you know," Cat said. "It's very strange. I hear your voice and I expect you to be right there next to my ear. This black plastic handset isn't a very satisfying substitute."

  "I know what you mean."

  There was a long silence.

  "What are you thinking about?" Cat asked.

  "You," Jessica said, her voice a near groan.

  "Hurry home," Cat whispered. "I — oh, hurry home."

  "I will."

  "This phone stuff is for the birds," Cat said. "Let's not get in the habit of talking long-distance."

  "Okay. Bye."

  "Bye," Cat said and the line went dead.

  Jessica managed to get through the second day of her seminar. She had done an adequate job, but she was not about to believe any of the women who told her she had been marvelous.

  "Thanks," she said pleasantly to everyone who came up to speak to her after she adjourned the workshop. She had never before wished her participants would leave her alone. There was this and the plane ride to get through. And deep inside, barely locked away, was the knowledge that Cat had received the letter today.

  On the plane, she glanced through the newspaper. Nothing particular of interest. Dan White had resigned from the Board of Supervisors, she noted. A step in the right direction. She shut her eyes and ears to the airplane's mechanical intensity. What would Cat's answer be?

  Yes, she'll say yes. She loves me. She knows I'm not asking to trap her, but to let her be a part of me so I can be a part of her.

  The shuttle from the airport to the hotel district took forever because a 49er game was letting out, swamping the Bayshore Freeway with cars honking horns, turning on their lights. The descending evening was cool and blustery as she sat on her suitcase on a corner, waiting for her cross-town connection home.

  Why didn't I tell her she could keep all her furniture? Why didn't I tell her she could have her choice of condos? Why didn't I tell her that if she wanted a baby we could try artificial insemination? Why didn't I tell her she didn't have to answer me right away? She can take her time. A few days, a year. I'll wait until she says yes.

  "I can't stand it," she said aloud, startling several people around her. She stepped out into traffic and hailed a cab. She fretted as she sat in the back seat, wishing she were already home, and wishing she would never get home if the answer was no.

  Her suitcase gripped tightly, far tighter than necessary, she unlocked the building door and went to the elevator. She pushed the button and slowly, so slowly she wanted to scream, it began its slow journey to the top floor.

  The second floor looked as it always did as she rose slowly past it. The third floor came into view, and through the cage's wrought iron bars she saw the flicker of a candle sitting on the floor of the tiny foyer between her and Cat's doors.

  Stepping out of the elevator, she set down her suitcase. The candle was the only light, securely held in its holder.

  Then she noticed a piece of paper on the floor in front of the candle.

  The piece of paper said YES.

  Turning slowly, she saw YES taped to the mirror over the tiny table, YES clinging to the walls, YES scattered on the floor. She picked up the candlestick and held it over her head. YES was everywhere.

  She wondered now which door Cat was behind, regretting the moments wasted in wondering. Then she saw the paper taped to her door.

  YOU GOOSE, it said. WHY ARE YOU OUT THERE WHEN YOU COULD BE IN HERE?

  They practiced co-habitating several times that night.

  EPILOGUE

  The End of the Beginning

  On November 27, the Monday after Thanksgiving weekend, Jessica was sequestered in the stacks of Moffit library at Berkeley. She concentrated single-mindedly on her research.

  Occasionally she recalled the tenderness and warmth of Cat's love, and with it was the memory of a night spent sobbing out grief and rage over the news from Jonestown, over the helpless anguish of knowing a vital, loving woman she had held in her arms was dead.

  It was dark when she left Berkeley, her satchel slung over one shoulder, and she took the BART transbay tube to 19th Street. From there she got on her bus, tired, rubbing her eyes a little. Somebody in the dimness of the bus was crying and she stared out the window to give her her privacy.

  "Sorry about the detour, folks," the driver said, addressing Jessica and the other passengers. Jessica looked around her, wondering why they weren't going the usual way. There were only a few people on the bus.

  "It's okay," one man answered him. "We're getting off at the march." He put his arm around his comp
anion, who buried his face in his hands. It was a woman several rows back who was crying, helplessly. The other passengers were also subdued, silent.

  The bus came into the Castro District and suddenly Jessica saw the lights and people. There were people everywhere, alone, in couples, in trios. Most held candles and they were walking, heads down.

  "What is it?" Jessica asked. "What's happening?"

  The man raised his head to look at Jessica, opened his mouth and was unable to speak. It was the other man who answered her.

  "It's a march for a martyr," he said.

  "Who?" Jessica whispered. "I haven't heard the news."

  "Harvey's dead. Dan White shot him this morning. Moscone, too."

  She whispered a silent no and became unconscious of time. When the bus stopped and the other passengers got off, she followed them, numb with shock, empty in her grief.

  She found a phone booth and dialed home. It rang and rang and in her mind's eye, Jessica could see a note on the door from Cat telling her she was at the march. Somewhere in this crowd Cat needed her, and Jessica desperately needed Cat.

  Jessica was surprised she felt nothing. She left the phone booth and walked toward the growing numbers of people. It would be impossible to find Cat, but later, in the warm safety of their home, they would find each other again.

  The crowd was large. She filtered through the fringe, getting more to the heart of it. A drum beat began and people lit their candles. Candles were touched from person to person as the flame passed through the crowd until the darkness receded. People with extras handed candles to those without and Jessica murmured an inadequate thank you. The night was filled with flickering lights and the smell of candle wax and burnt matches. She knew she would never forget that smell.

  The march went slowly, through the moonlight and candlelight. There were hymns being sung and she sang along when she knew the words. The rest of the time she just walked, lost in thought.

  She heard someone ask a man where his anger was, but the man didn't reply. There was no anger. Just tearfulness and heartache.