by Lee Lynch
“They’re as good as the last time you showed them to me,” Dusty answered, but she straightened her collar with nervous fingers.
“You really think so?”
“I tell you all the time.”
“You did at first.” She turned to the group with a smile, but she was tapping her purse. “Now she doles out praise like it’s bad for me.”
“Your drawings,” Annie noted, “are full of light.”
“Everything is full of light,” Elly said in a passionate drawl. “I just never knew it till Verne said it out loud in our first class.” Dusty grimaced.
“I know you don’t like me talking about her, Dusty, but it’s true.”
There was a silence. Annie remembered Dusty in her thirties, stewed to the gills, a big, rugged charmer playing a penny-whistle at the open back door of the bar on a hot summer’s night Two or three femmes would drift away from the jukebox and listen, dreamy smiles on their faces, passing cars stirring hot breezes. Now Dusty was more solid, not an aggressive entrepreneur, but the sort of unflagging small businessperson who embodies the American dream. Elly was her stanchion. Annie watched them for a sign of hope.
The Director of the Learning Center, a balding man with a quick high-pitched voice, had just begun his speech when Paula Norwood cried, “That’s not art, it’s pornography!” The Director stepped back, clasping the portable microphone to his chest.
Jo’s panicked eyes caught Annie’s.
Mr. Simski and a man in a white shirt and tie flanked Mrs. Norwood and some other women. One man yelled, “Take them down!”
All over the room people looked at one another. “What jerks,” said Dusty. Annie was shaking. She felt helpless.
“Take them down or we will!” Everyone in the room seemed to be in shock. Dusty watched the protesters and Elly intently. When no one moved, the man advanced on Elly’s drawings, but Elly, in her heels, ran at the wall.
“Oh no you don’t!” she cried.
“Are you going to let her get in your way, Jerod?” challenged one of the women, approaching. She reached past Elly, but Elly knocked her arm back.
Dusty seemed to teeter, as if hesitant to stay or to go. Then, she strode across the room and stood with Elly. “Why don’t you folks just calm down,” she said, her gruff voice soothing.
Annie had never admired Dusty more and strode to stand beside her. Venita followed, along with most of the rest of the gathering.
What about Verne, why wasn’t she defending her show, her artist? She saw her leaning against a window, watching with a smirk on her face. Jo stood beside Verne, gazing at the artist. There it was the wedding announcement for which Annie had been waiting. Jo and Verne together in that fitted stance only lovers achieve. Damn it! What about me, she wanted to shout. She’d smash Verne’s face in. Yeah, like she’d stand up to the picketers. Annie could out her to the school board. Sure, like she’d really do that to another gay person. She’d make her life so miserable Verne would have to leave town. Good plan, Heaphy, like that would win Jo’s flitty little heart?
Annie returned to the scene before her. Two tiny armies lined up to defend and attack a piece of art, and here she was, wanting to attack Verne. Priorities, Heaphy, she told herself.
Thor Valerie took the microphone from the Center Director. His voice leapt across the room, startling the line of Elly’s defenders as much as the line of attackers. He boosted the Rafferty Center’s cultural program and praised the artists and the multi-culturalism of the show. Meanwhile, Peg and a bearded black man, who Paris whispered was a history teacher, talked the troublesome group to the hall.
Elly was staring at Dusty with the look of a woman rescued by a prince on a white horse.
Dusty, once the troublemakers had left the room, motioned for her to pay attention to the judges on their inspection. Elly tapped her purse at a furious pace as she hung onto Dusty. and stole glances at Verne.
The judges went to the offending drawings and placed a first on the handholding piece.
Elly looked pale as a smattering of applause grew to a strong ovation.
Dusty hugged her and let her go.
Chapter Thirteen
Thursday evening Annie and Gussie were digging into their meatloaf and lima beans when the phone rang.
“Good timing,” she muttered, reluctantly getting up to answer.
It was Jo.
“No,” Annie said. “I’m not into coming over, but you’re welcome to come over to Rafferty Street.”
“Funny,” she told Gussie after she’d hung up, “how spending time with Chantal helps me know what I’m willing to put up with.”
She had honorably driven Chantal back to her car the night they’d sat at the dam. For the next few nights, while she battled back and forth with herself about whether her Herb Farm dilemma made her crazy or saner than everyone else, she’d indulged in comfortable Chantal fantasies.
“Jo can just bring her banker’s butt across the tracks if she wants to talk.” She’d told Gussie about the way things looked between Jo and Verne at the art opening. “I have a few things to say to her, too,” Annie grumbled.
“Are you sure you’ve lost Jo?” asked Gussie. “You don’t want to alienate her if there’s still a chance.”
“I don’t even care.”
“If that’s true, don’t waste your energy fighting for her then. Or being angry. Be glad you found out now.”
“I suppose,” Annie replied. “But without Jo’s connection to the Farm, I’m up the creek without a canoe, much less a paddle.” She speared a bean and studied it, exhausted with frustration. “I’ve been up to the Farm twice. I left three phone messages for Judy, but she’s still on sick leave. It’s a little hard to press my case when nobody’s home.”
The day was muggy. Gussie had all the windows open. Annie saw Jo step out of her car with her alluring smile, her crisp navy slacks and a soft-looking yellow v-neck sweater. Neighbors across the street stared openly. Then some mutt gave a wolf whistle.
“Hey, baby,” called another, “come over to my house!”
Jo didn’t know to come through the alleyway. Annie, enraged and embarrassed, rushed to the front door to let her in, but not fast enough to avoid the last hurled comment.
“What do you want with dykes when you could have me?”
“Get lost!” Annie shouted.
Gussie was pulling down the shades. “Annie! Don’t let them know they get your goat!”
“I know, I know.” A can hit the front steps and rattled onto the sidewalk.
Gussie peered past a shade. “There are just three young thugs, pulling up clumps of grass and heaving them over here. Laughing.”
Gussie raised her voice, “There’s no call for behavior like that!”
Annie could see the men mime terror. “Three? Look at the backups on their porch, laughing their butts off.”
She noticed that Jo stood well back from the window. “This is bad, Annie.”
“Yahoos always love an excuse to bait gays. The politicians and the Norwoods are inadvertently encouraging them. I’m sorry I asked you over. This never happened to a guest before.”
“I’m afraid this isn’t a social call. I’m here as an emissary for Judy. She goes in for surgery in the morning and wanted this cleared up just in case something unforeseen happens.”
“Surgery?” asked Annie.
“Gall bladder. At least we hope that’s all it is. Here’s your formal offer of employment, Annie, complete with apology. She’ll stand by you if you decide you want to be a part of the Farm’s work.”
Annie skimmed the papers and didn’t try to hide her sarcasm. “She’s sorry for the miscommunication. So that’s what it was! Well tell her I’m so very grateful for the explanation.”
“She called it that so none of the details—about your life—or her panic—have to go on paper.”
“And they need to know my decision, like, yesterday?”
“The guy filling in for you needs to lo
ok for other work if you’re coming back.”
“I appreciate that Judy figured out right from wrong, but I may want to stay where it feels safe. Safer, anyway.”
“But your career. Special Ed.”
Annie passed the papers to Gussie. “I don’t want my emotions to get in the way,” she explained. “How does that look to you?”
Gussie commented, “This doesn’t undo the harm already done. Or end what the whole mess started. After tonight’s paper I don’t blame Annie for being cautious.”
“Thanks for not ruining dinner with whatever it is,” said Annie, taking the newspaper.
“’FAMILY SUES HERB FARM FOR FAILURE TO PROTECT DAUGHTER,’ she read aloud. “Why do I feel like I’ve been bopped in the head? Like I can’t win for losing. Maybe I have my job back, but isn’t it my fault the Farm’s being hassled?”
“Sit down.” Gussie ordered. “You look like you have been bopped in the head.”
“Why? Because my ears are ringing? Because I’m sweating like a pig? Because my mouth tastes like the inside of a garbage can? Sitting won’t help. Grinding clumps of dirt into those clowns’ faces might. Rushing their porch with the Grape at top speed might. Blowing up Medipak might. But my legs are shaking too much.”
“Gussie’s right,” Jo said, her face very pale.
Annie sank into a chair. “Judy’s still willing to take me back, knowing what’s going on in Morton River?”
Jo’s tone was solemn. “She convinced the New Way Board to reject running and hiding. This was coming whatever they decided. Your incident was the tip of the iceberg, Annie. I see papers from all over the country at the bank. Momentum’s been building for years against the legislation gains we’ve made—and fear of AIDS.”
Annie was as glum. “I still can’t believe this.” She counted on her fingers. “First, nothing happened. Second, the thing they think happened was after working hours and off Farm property. Third, I was so careful not to do anything that would hurt the Farm, like sue for my job back, and I’m the bad guy? Do you guys mind if I whine a little? This isn’t fair!”
“I feel so helpless,” Jo admitted. “What good is getting your job back? That was only the beginning. If I’d been able to resolve this faster. If—”
Gussie wrestled a cowlick down. “You did what you could, Jo. What you young people call homophobia has a life of its own.”
Annie said, “I feel like running back to New York as fast as I can go.” She lifted the cat to her shoulder. “What do you think, Toothpick? Want to go home?”
Gussie was picking up crumbs and setting them on a plate one by one, saying nothing.
Annie looked at Jo. Jo looked from her to Gussie and back.
Annie found herself reassuring Gussie as she had Chantal. “Aw, Gus, I’m not going anywhere. They hate us in New York, too. They just can’t be bothered showing it on a daily basis. Besides, this is Toothpick Cat’s home now.”
Gussie looked up. “I’d be fine,” she said.
Jo advised, “This whole situation has gotten out of hand. Don’t do anything drastic. It’ll just give energy to the bigots.”
Annie took her softball cap from the back of her chair and spun it on a finger. “I keep trying to ignore it. I guess now that we know what’s what, we’ll get the gang together again and see. You want in?”
Jo bit her bottom lip. “Yes. No. Maybe,” she said with a small laugh. “That is, I want to, but I’m not sure it’s wise.”
“It won’t make much difference now that they’ve seen you here,” Gussie cautioned. “Hold your head up and walk right past them.”
“You’re more paranoid than I am!” Jo said with a laugh.
“I’ve had more practice,” Gussie joked. “And lived through more difficult times.”
“I’m not sure of that at all,” Annie objected from inside her deepening cloud of gloom.
“Don’t I get credit for the two world wars? The war to end all wars?”
“Did it?” asked Annie. Silence threatened.
“Jo,” Annie said with some apprehension, “would you like to come upstairs to see the palace suite?”
The sky was just beginning to darken. The voices were loud on the porch across the street.
“Maybe waiting for dark is a good idea,” said Jo.
She led Jo slowly up the stairs, leaning heavily on the rail, as if she were dragging the carcasses of her old loves along. Vicky had told her last fall that she was becoming a sad sack.
“I just know who you were, Annie, when we were together,” Vicky had said gently as they’d walked the beach. “A cuddler, a teddy bear, a day-in, day-out kind of woman who wears well and gives more and more over time. Even with your boundless enthusiasm, your excitement had to do with us, or with you. You didn’t need much outside. I never had to worry whether you’d come home at night, whether you’d go off with another woman.”
To herself Annie thought, like I was banking on you getting over your love affair with the West Coast. In her fourth year with Vicky, just before Vicky’s last year at Yale Law School, they’d driven out to visit their friend Rosemary Harris in San Francisco. Rosemary had left Yale with an M.B.A. and taken a job in banking.
Vicky had fallen for the glow of the West Coast light, the softer air, the slower pace of life. The next year she’d passed the Oregon bar and accepted a job with a hippy-dippy law firm of boys in Eugene who wanted a female presence. It still rankled that Vicky chose to leave her, but Annie hadn’t been willing to move west.
They’d dubbed themselves bi-coastal lovers and spent vacations together for another ten years, until Vicky and Jade Winter had their ceremony of commitment. Jade was one of those typical west-coasters-with-a-lesbian-name at whom Vicky would once have scoffed. A little scornful, a little amused, Annie and Marie-Christine had flown out for the occasion. It had been easier to finally let go of Vicky because Marie-Christine had been so large in Annie’s life.
Now, not only were Vicky and Marie-Christine gone, but as she stood back to let Jo precede her into the room and saw the blankness in Jo’s eyes, she knew that within the hour Jo would be gone too.
“I’ve only had one other guest up here,” apologized Annie. “I don’t keep it ship-shape. And it kind of collects heat during the day. Have a seat.” She offered the old green nubby easy chair to Jo. She’d bragged to Chantal about the good deal she’d gotten on it at a tag sale, but now it just looked shabby.
“So this is the famous Toothpick Cat.” Jo said, bending to lift the kitten into her arms.
“Haven’t you met her before?”
“She’s never shown her face when I’ve been around.”
“Toothpick!” Annie cried. The kitten had launched itself from Jo’s arms onto the bed where it sat licking its fur back into order. “I’m sorry. She’s always friendly.”
Jo was smoothing her sweater. The heat didn’t seem to affect her. “No harm done.”
“No. She pulled your sweater.”
“It’s okay. I’ll work it back in.”
“I’m really sorry.”
A promising little breeze blew through the window, stirring the curtain just enough to catch Toothpick’s eyes. In a flash, she attacked one panel and hung on it, claws caught, until Annie disentangled her.
Jo looked around. “How wonderful! You can see the diner from your window.”
“When Nan was still alive, she and Gussie were the ones to spot the arsonists who tried to burn it down.”
“I remember. Some boys who didn’t like gays. It got so bad I almost moved up to Hartford to live with Marsha, but then the flood came and everybody loved Dusty and Elly for practically saving the town. We need another flood!” Jo said with a laugh. “Or maybe I just need to relocate someplace where I don’t feel so exposed.”
“It’s funny,” Annie said. “I was telling Venita that most of the women around here who have professional jobs or a pension, who have some type of security, that they’re the ones who aren’t worried, who can
afford to take the risks. But maybe I’m wrong.”
“Maybe you think my job comes with more security than it does. When I lost my parents, they left just enough insurance for me to finish college. The only close relative I have is Uncle Claude and he’s done well, but he has five kids of his own. The banking industry is so conservative I couldn’t have made a worse choice, except maybe teaching.”
They fell silent. Annie imagined that Jo was watching the sky grow more and more dark, so she could make her escape. Jo broke the silence. “This is a nice room.”
“There isn’t really a common space where we can talk in private.”
“Annie, stop apologizing. I’m the one who has some apologizing to do.” Jo balanced on the edge of the easy chair while Annie sat next to Toothpick on the bed. “I thought I could accomplish the impossible—save your job and keep Mrs. Norwood and her friends from swarming all over us,” Jo said, twisting her gold watch back and forth on her wrist.
“Right. Now blame yourself because Mrs. Kurt’s crowd is starting a chapter of the Traditional Family Values Coalition. After all the stories I’ve heard about the Klan around here I was surprised that Morton River didn’t already have a chapter.”
“The worst of it is that some United Way people are talking about pulling support from the Farm. They want agencies that receive funding to write veiled anti-gay policies into their hiring procedures in case the Selectmen won’t pass a city-wide ordinance.”
“All because Judy unfired me?”
“It’s the timing. You gave them an issue. This is where the radicals have chosen to take their stand. Every step you, Maddy, Paris or lawyers take to resist their stand, escalates the conflict and exposes the Farm more. If you’re working there it could get even worse, for you as well as the Farm.”
Annie felt so discouraged she might as well be wearing cement shoes on quicksand. She couldn’t help being defensive. “I didn’t get myself laid off on purpose, Jo. I have to fight this to feel okay about myself, never mind plan for a career. This whole deal has circled around on me and I find a tiny part of my mind agreeing with Mrs. Kurt—Paula Norwood.”