by Nikki Harmon
Some time after noon, I wake up and try to get moving, but I am stiff and tired. We fucked each other silly until we heard the birds start to sing and a delivery truck rumble down the street. Now, sex-stiff and funky, I roll over and look at her. She is beautiful and naked, in my bed, which looks like a tornado hit it, as does the rest of my bedroom. I look around. Massage oil, dildos – the big one and the small one, blindfold, harness, and clothes thrown everywhere. Oh, it was a good night. I haven’t had a workout like that in a few years. My neck is stiff, my tongue sore. Whew!
I hobble over to the bathroom and try to get it together. After a long shower, I come out and Noema is still asleep but now she’s on her stomach. I go over to have a good look in the daylight. It’s a tattoo of a dragon holding a human baby. It’s very ornate and fanciful. The tail of the dragon is what curls up her neck. While the pose is gentle and kind, the dragon itself looks dangerous. The claws are super-long and its teeth are bared even though it’s looking down at this tiny baby with love. It’s quite disconcerting. I move away and start to clean up the room.
Noema wakes up an hour later. Coffee is on, the room is clean except for the bed, and I am dressed in shorts and a tank. She smiles up at me and croaks, “Coffee.”
~~~
Despite our exhausting night, I still manage to go to my parent’s house for Sunday dinner. I give a quick recap of my trip to Albuquerque, but I don’t mention my disappointment. I don’t have to. My sister does not say what’s on her mind, but I see it written on her face anyway. I mention that I’ve started dating someone else and they all seem relieved. I go and watch baseball with my dad. We drink beer and munch pretzels. Good ole dad.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
When I get home from work on Wednesday, there is a letter from Candace. My heart skips a beat. I sit down to read it. My hands are shaking a little bit.
Dear Dee,
I hope this letter finds you well. I can’t tell you how much your visit meant to me. I am so glad you found me and came to see me. I know that it was necessary at the time, but I regret losing you as a friend. You were the best friend I ever had and I will always value our relationship and that time in my life.
I’m writing just to give you an update. Ramon has agreed to move back in with me and he and I are going to commit ourselves to our marriage and move forward. We love our children and our family and our life. I thought you would want to know. I wish you the best always. Thanks for reminding me of what is really important in life.
Love,
Candace
I crumple up the letter and bawl. There, that’s it. I try not to care but my heart is aching. She knew I was waiting, she knows me well enough to know that in my heart I was waiting to see what Ramon would do. He took her back. She’s staying with him. That’s it. Even though the sex was great with Noema, in my heart, I was waiting, hoping, not even admitting it to myself but now … I leave my food uneaten on the table and I give myself over to sobbing in my bed. It was not the first devastating letter Candace had written me.
~~~
The summer before our senior year passed much like the one before. Candace went down south for a month then on to Detroit with her dad. I did an internship program at Einstein Hospital and worked at a small bookstore on Germantown Avenue. I hung out with Vivian and her new girlfriend, Stacey. I took up jogging with my dad in Valley Green. I fantasized about college life all the time. I was applying to five schools and I was nervous. Candace and I shared three schools on our wish lists. We wanted to go to school together or at least near each other now that we could drive. My little sister Janine would be starting Girls’ High in the fall. I tried to prepare her as best I could. When Candace was finally back in town in August, we went out to dinner at Dave and Buster’s with her family. We had a great time. Candace drove me home that night. We parked on Kelly Drive and renewed our physical relationship in her mom’s navy blue Oldsmobile. It was uncomfortable, but it had been a long seven weeks. I went home smiling.
Senior year started off pretty good. We were careful to do well academically for the first grade period; we both added a few extracurricular activities for our college applications so we were pretty busy. We were comfortable with each other and our relationship. But I began to have problems with all the secrecy. I was already somewhat of a big mouth, speaking up in classes and taking on leadership roles, and generally, I wore my opinions on my sleeve. I was starting to feel grown up and very confident in my belief that all people should be treated equally. But personally, I was beginning to feel oppressed and I was getting uncomfortable with it. I was in love, why should I hide it? I began to get reckless with my love for her. She tried to keep me in check and a few times, she playfully rejected my casual displays of affection. It stung nonetheless.
It took me a few weeks before I noticed the girl. Her name was Joan. She was new to the school. She had just moved here from Brooklyn. She lived near Candace and they ended up on the same bus to and from school. She was tomboyish with short hair and she was a little roundish. But she had dimples and a big laugh and she seemed to make friends easily. She made friends with Candace. One day I was standing near the front steps when I saw them get off the bus together. They were laughing, and she touched Candace on the shoulder and said goodbye as Candace turned to me. Over her shoulder, I saw Joan look at her butt! What the hell!! She looked up and saw me watching her. She smiled and gave a little wave and walked the other way whistling. I was floored and I was pissed.
“Candace!” I motioned for her to follow me further up the brick wall where there were fewer people around. “Who was that?”
“Who was what?” she replied.
“Who was that girl you just got off the bus with? The one you were laughing and giggling with?” I demanded.
She looked at me quizzically. “Oh, that’s just Joan. She’s new. She moved here from Brooklyn this summer…. Why are you looking so crazy?”
I whispered, “I caught her checking out your butt! That’s what!” Candace didn’t look too surprised. “Oh yeah?” she said.
“Yeah! And she knows I saw her and didn’t seem to care at all!” I said.
Candace whispered, “Maybe she’s a lesbian, whoooooo.” She made scary witch hands at me and laughed. I was not at all amused.
“Maybe she likes you,” I countered, “that ain’t so funny to me.”
“Oh, Dee! Stop being so dramatic! What if she does? So what. I’m with you and that’s all that matters, right?” she cooed. The school bell buzz drowns out whatever I was going to say next. We turned and joined the mob going up the stairs. I was not reassured one bit. That girl was trouble. I could smell it.
For a few weeks, Candace tried to avoid the girl for my sake while I kept a wary eye out for her in the halls. When we did cross paths, she would nod and flash that dimple grin at me like we shared a secret. We did, but she was no co-conspirator with me. By the end of October, Candace was back on her regular bus and convinced me that she could be ‘bus friends’ with Joan without a problem. She told me I was acting immature. That hurt. Still, I sent Viv in to investigate. She came back with a report.
“OK, number one, it’s too bad that you won’t get to know her, she’s quite funny and sarcastic, I think you would like her,” Viv said. I glared at her.
“OK, number two, she is definitely gay. She told me right away. Her family knows and she doesn’t care who knows; she’s happy and fine with herself.” I felt a pang of jealousy.
“OK, and number three, she did say that she had her eye on a girl here at school but she wouldn’t say who. She knows that this is not a queer-friendly school and she doesn’t want to start any trouble.” I gasped. I knew it!
“Now Dee, it could be anybody—it might not be Candace at all. I think you should just chill out. She seems cool and I believe her when she says she doesn’t want to start anything.”
“Did you tell her about any of us?” I asked.
“No, I just told her about me. I told you, s
he seems cool. You should get to know her, you might like her,” Viv said.
“Doubtful. Thanks, Viv,” I said.
That night, I called Candace on the phone and told her what Viv learned.
“I want you to stay away from her. I can tell she likes you,” I plead.
“Dee, you’re being ridiculous, but maybe we should just tell her about us. I’ll tell her we’re a couple and then you won’t have to worry,” she said.
“I don’t trust her. What if she uses that against one of us? What if she tells someone to get back at me?” I said. Candace thought that over for a minute.
“OK, well, what if I just tell her I’m seeing someone, at church, a boy. Then she’ll know I’m taken. But seriously Dee, she’s just a girl on the bus. I don’t know why you are jealous. Don’t you trust me?” she asked.
I did. I truly did. I knew she loved me and I loved her and we had a good thing. There was just something about that girl. Her smirk, her swagger, her cockiness, her loud boisterous Brooklyn laugh, and the stupid toothpick she sometimes chewed. She was under my skin. But Candace was right; I was acting like a jealous witch. I had to stop. I would continue to hate Joan; I just vowed to keep it to myself.
“OK, tell her the boyfriend thing just in case. I’ll back off, OK? I just … I just didn’t like another girl checking you out. I got jealous, I did. I admit it. I’m sorry, OK?” I confessed.
“OK, now just let me handle it. She’s just a girl on my bus. But you, you are the love of my life, Dee. Don’t forget that, OK?” she said.
“OK,” I replied. But right before the Christmas break I did forget it. Big time.
Things had been fine. Candace told Joan the boyfriend thing and they still talked on the bus, but I didn’t notice anymore eyeballing so I went back to my other worries – SAT’s, college applications, my job at the bookstore, and my mom who was on my nerves. A few times I saw them laughing in the hallways and joking outside of school, but I vowed to trust Candace and I kept my suspicions to myself. I still refused to befriend her although Viv had. I was stubborn.
Then one day, right before the third period bell was going to ring, I was coming around the corner delivering some SAT prep work to the office when I saw them. They were coming out of the girls’ bathroom together. Joan was tucking in her shirt and Candace was smoothing her hair down walking out first. Then she stopped and leaned back as if she was going to kiss Joan. I gasped loudly, my mouth dropped.
Candace came towards me as if to calm me, but I strode right past her. As I got to Joan, I saw a hickey on her neck. I looked at Candace, she was shaking her head “no” but I couldn’t hear a thing. All I could hear was the sound of the ocean raging in my ears. I swear I saw red. I raised my fist and punched Joan awkwardly on the side of her head. She was more skilled and punched me back dead in my eye. And then we were fighting. The bell had rung and girls were pouring out of their classes. They started yelling and somebody was blowing a whistle. I just tried to hit her as many times as I could as hard as I could. I was screaming at her, “Keep your fucking hands off my girlfriend, you fucking bitch.” I screamed it over and over again, even as it got quiet in the hallway, even as two teachers pulled us apart, even as Candace, mortified and frightened, backed away from me and ran the other way. That was the last time I saw her.
I got suspended for a week. My parents were embarrassed and disappointed and at a loss as to what to say to me. They were stunned when they heard what the fight was about and I think they were questioning themselves about what they must have done wrong. I had a terrible black eye, a swollen lip, and was sore all over. Everybody at school knew that I was a lesbian. Everybody knew that Candace was a lesbian. Everybody already knew that Joan was a lesbian, but now they thought she was some kind of girl-stealer as well. Viv said it was causing a lot of arguing and name-calling at school. People were starting to look at her funny too. There were not a lot of people who were sympathetic to me. But worst of all, Candace would not have anything to do with me. Her mom had her immediately transferred to another high school. I was beyond devastated.
It was the worst Christmas holiday and New Year’s ever. Everybody was mad at me and embarrassed because of me. My sister was getting teased because of me. My black eye served as a constant reminder of my fight. We were not sure how the suspension would affect my college applications. It was a time fraught with stress and regret and shame. I spent New Year’s Eve in my room listening to my love mix tape and crying. I re-read The Color Purple and cried.
When we got back to school in January, I was an outcast. Most of my old friends shunned me; they didn’t want anybody thinking that about them too. I understood. I got a lot of disgusted looks, some threatening looks, and some pitying looks. I tried to ignore it all. I got bumped into a lot. I kept walking. Joan pointedly ignored me. Only Viv stayed by my side. A few girls I didn’t know reached out to me and I was grateful. But I didn’t want them to be touched by my problems, so I quietly ignored their attempts at friendship and they eventually gave up and faded away. I wrote Candace, but all the letters were returned unopened. I tried to call her. Either her mother or one of her sisters answered and told me not to call again. Denise, who had been my closest ally in the family, cursed me out and called me “nasty.” Eventually, they had their number changed. I waited outside her church, across the street, watching for an opportunity to talk to her, but her family stayed close and I never saw her alone. I had Vivian talk to Candace for me. In no uncertain terms, she wanted nothing to do with me. Viv said she looked miserable, but it was little comfort. I spent what should have been the best time of my life—spring of my senior year in high school—alone, sad and bereft. I sat in my room with my Walkman on and listened to Tracy Chapman and Phyllis Hyman over and over again. I did not go to prom. I finished school. I graduated summa cum laude but there was no joy in it, just relief. I was accepted at Yale University, now my first choice, and I decided to go there. Nobody else I knew was going there. I could start over. That summer, I received a letter from Candace.
Dear Dee,
I just want you to know that you have ruined my life. Your stupid jealous rage has made me an outsider in my own family. No one treats me the same anymore. I thought we were true friends, true loves (remember that!). But a friend would never have destroyed my life the way you did. I NEVER cheated on you, no matter what you think. You should have trusted me. Now I can never trust you again. Please don’t call me or try to contact me again. We are over.
Sincerely,
Candace
The pain from that flat-out rejection was keen and I thought I would die of it. And though I may have welcomed it at that time, I didn’t die. I packed up. And in the fall, I began my life again in college, without Candace.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
And so the summer of Dee and Noema began. New romance is always exciting and ours is no different. Noema and I both have busy lives, so we continue to “date” which keeps things interesting. We have lots of fun going out to eat, catching matinee movies and roller-skating. We go to NYC for a Broadway show, Rehoboth Beach for a weekend, and to the casinos to play craps, which she is unnaturally good at. We cook at each other’s houses and meet each other’s friends. The sex is great and we always have a lot to talk about. It is a great summer for me. I hardly think about Candace at all. Hardly.
Viv, on the other hand, started to break under the pressure of her failing relationship and finally gave in to cheating just to put an end to the suffering. She was kicked out, but she already had her plane ticket and plans, so it was just a few days that she needed to crash with friends. I was so happy that she came to stay with me for one of the last weekends in August. She came in on the Chinatown bus on a Friday night. I picked her up and we went out to eat right there in Chinatown. I got to catch her up on my summer and she told me all about her Cali plans.
“So you already have a place in Sherman Oaks? That’s great Viv. I really hope you love it out there. I’m sure Cali will love
you,” I say. “I’m gonna miss not having you close though. I got used to it these past few months.”
“Yeah, but now you have a place to visit, if you ever get any more vacation time, that is,” she laughs. “Don’t fret, mon frère, we have our cell phones, e-mail, Facebook, and if I really need to see you, I’ll Skype you.”
“True,” I sigh. My text alert goes off again. “I guess I should check that.” It is Noema, for the fourth time. Even though I told her all week that I would be hanging with my best friend tonight, she wanted to know where I was. I texted her back that I was at dinner. She wanted to know where. I tapped, “Chinatown.” She wanted to know which restaurant; I texted, “Why?” She writes back that she wants to meet Viv tonight. I text back, “No, tomorrow, babe.” Viv raises her eyebrows. I shrug, “She’s just excited to meet you, that’s all.” Viv tilts her head and raises her eyebrows. “No seriously,” I say. “She’s cool. You’ll love her. We’re good together, really good together. I don’t want to say, but I think this could be it. I think I already love her. She’s smart, funny, beautiful, caring, artistic, and obviously, she has questionable taste in women,” Viv continues. She laughs. “Seriously though, don’t you think you might be jumping into this a smidge fast? Just a smidge?”
I think about it. “No,” I say emphatically, “looking for Candace was just the closure I needed to be able to move on into adult relationships. I can imagine a future with Noema. I don’t think I was ever able to do that before.”
“OK, Dee. Well, I’m glad I’ll get to meet her before I leave.”