Touchwood

by Karin Kallmaker

  Her dejection was a cloud around her all day. Louisa's shattered look slowly disappeared and when they sat down to dinner she was almost her usual self — but still brittle. Rayann had trouble swallowing the stir-fry she had thrown together; her stomach was in turmoil. If Louisa would not accept her as even a friend close enough to confide in then she would have to leave. Maybe the job is still open. But she knew she wouldn't go. Not yet. Not before she had solved the riddle of Louisa.

  Louisa spoke suddenly. "Chris helped me raise Teddy. He adored her. He never thought the living arrangement in the least bit odd until he went to college. I could tell he had figured it out."

  A mixture of emotions flooded Rayann, but the primary one was relief. "Why did you wait for him to figure it out?"

  Louisa spread her arms in a combined shrug and admission of regret. "I was a Doctor Spock mother. I was raised in a time when sex and sexuality were just not discussed with children. I have never been able to talk to him about it."

  "And how did Chris feel about it?"

  "She was... likeminded. Of the two of us, she was the more traditionally maternal."

  "Do you have a picture of her?" Teddy is why there aren't any of her in the curios cabinet. Had she felt compelled to erase Christina's existence?

  Louisa abandoned her nearly untouched dinner and went into her bedroom. She returned with a snapshot. "She really was a good photographer, and she hated having her picture taken." A small woman with fair hair and thin arms folded across her breasts stared at Rayann. She wore a work shirt, overalls and boots. Rayann had the distinct impression that Christina did not like the boots. "Chris hated that picture because it just didn't look like her. But that's how she looked most of the time at home." Louisa sighed. "The things we did to get by."

  "Like what?" Rayann returned the picture to Louisa, who studied it as she talked.

  "We had lesbian friends, but it was hard. We couldn't be ourselves around them. We had to play just as many games with them as with the people who held the lease on our lives — our bosses and landlords. I was a mother, so I had to be femme, right? And if I was femme, Chris had to be butch, right? Well never really know what our true inclinations were, but we were forced into those roles so we accepted them, at least in public."

  "Why did you play roles?"

  "What else was there to do? Our friends were our sanity. There were so few of us that we had to socialize. The gay men would have nothing to do with us, and we couldn't even go to their bar. Not that that was a real drawback — it was burned down twice, and the local Bible-thumpers took down license plate numbers. I'd have lost Teddy. When we moved here we made friends again, but the fifties and sixties were very rigid in many ways."

  "How did you stand it?"

  "Stand it?" Louisa looked momentarily nonplussed. "How did we stand it? We were ecstatically happy whenever the doors were closed and we were alone. We were living together. We went right on leading our lives and never dreamed for more. After the fifties we both believed we had found the incredible, impossible dream. There was nothing to stand."

  Rayann digested that for a few minutes. "I do understand that, a little. I know how relieved I was when my mother and I parted ways for a while. It felt like freedom."

  "But I've always had something to lose."

  "It's not freedom, anyway. It just feels like it."

  "I know. I don't want to leave behind what I love." Louisa stared at the ceiling. "I'm too old to learn how to fly."

  Rayann stopped herself from saying, once again, that Louisa was not old. "It's not any easier when you're younger." She picked up their uneaten dinners and busied herself in the kitchen.

  "Thank you," Louisa said, still sitting in her chair.

  "For what?" I haven't done a damn thing.

  "For not saying I could change things if I had the courage to."

  "Courage isn't the only thing you need," Rayann said quietly. "'Courage is useless without a reason to fight.'"

  Louisa turned to her, one eyebrow raised. "William Blake?"

  Rayann shook her head and squirted soap into the dishpan. "Harvey Milk, I think. Or Mother Jones."

  Louisa laughed and joined Rayann at the sink. "I’ll wash. It's my turn."

  I'll lead, Rayann heard in her head. Chris tried to be butch, Louisa tried to be femme. But she said they acted differently in private. Did Louisa love Chris the way she did me? Probably. For a few selfish moments Rayann hated Chris, but the emotion was gone before it matured. She couldn't understand the complexities. Louisa and Chris had survived a great deal of turmoil and however they had done it didn't matter. She survived to stand next to me, and give me passion I'll never forget. And I'll never have again. What am I doing? I can't hold a candle to this woman. Why can't I be happy just knowing her? Why do I have to want more?

  A quiet knock at the back door startled them both, and Rayann went to the porch, turning on the light. Danny stared at her through the glass as Rayann opened the door.

  "Is everything still in one piece?"

  Rayann nodded. "We're doing the dishes," she said, as if it were an answer.

  "Rayann, I'm sorry about this morning. I didn't mean to yell. It was just such a close call."

  Rayann found the strength to smile. "You were honest with me. I appreciate that."

  "Danny, is that you?"

  "Sure is," Danny called, passing Rayann to go to the kitchen.

  Rayann followed and froze in the doorway as Louisa threw herself into Danny's waiting arms. Their embrace cut Rayann, and the sight of Louisa's tears, tears she wouldn't shed in front of Rayann, was salt in the wound.

  She left them and went down to the darkened bookstore, huddling in the large easy chair Hazel and Greta had donated to the Poetry Corner, saying they couldn't wait to get rid of it. She knew the floor plan by heart now, and she could tell when two pairs of feet moved slowly from the kitchen, across the living room, then turned to the right to enter Louisa's bedroom.

  Rayann rose from Zoraida's body. The sunshine of the first day of April poured through the windows, lighting Zoraida's skin to warm amber.

  "No, querida, again," Zoraida groaned, pushing Rayann down. "I cannot get enough today."

  Rayann went to her again, met the eager hips with her mouth. A fine film of perspiration covered them both; their bodies steamed in the sun.

  "Don't stop, querida, querida Rayann." Zoraida clutched Rayann's hands, pulling and straining. Her hips arched up and Rayann clung to them, her tongue pulsing against Zoraida, plunging toward release.

  "If that wasn't enough," Rayann panted, "I can probably do it again, if you'll let me catch my breath." She stretched out next to Zoraida who laughed lazily. She wiped Rayann's mouth with one hand, then kissed her.

  "You have completely undone me," Zoraida said. "I can't imagine a more beautiful way to spend an afternoon. I'm happy you get days off now."

  Rayann moved restlessly, not wanting to talk about the bookstore. The innovation of days off was a sore subject. Rayann didn't know why, but she thought Louisa was trying to get rid of her. But that was silly, because Louisa continued to make a point of how much Rayann's marketing efforts had improved business. Nevertheless Louisa had insisted Rayann spend some time away from the bookstore, and the free time had given Rayann more time to spend with Zoraida — which had seemed to please Louisa.

  "Of course," Zoraida went on, "if you stayed here longer we could spend more evenings doing this as well."

  "If I stay longer I'll sneeze my brains out."

  "I've been thinking," Zoraida said slowly, her deliberateness negating the nonchalant tone of her voice, "that Whizzer could become an outdoor cat."

  Rayann sat up. "Zoraida, please…"

  "So you could stay all the time. Live with me."

  Please don't. But it was too late. "Is this April Fool's?" Rayann kept her tone light, giving Zoraida a chance to laugh it off.

  Zoraida sat up as well, sunlight illuminating every firm inch of her torso. Sh
e did not laugh, but sighed a little sadly. "No, mi querida. No joke."

  "Zoraida," Rayann began, but Zoraida put two fingers over Rayann's lips, hushing her.

  "You've answered. Forget I brought it up."

  "I love being with you, Zoey, and heaven knows how much I love your body."

  "I tried my best, but you're still in love with another." Zoraida rolled one shoulder expressively. "I wish it were not so."

  If only I could love you that way. Rayann caressed the side of Zoraida's face. You don't know how much I want to.

  "But we can go on as before." With strong arms tightening around Rayann, the warmth of Zoraida's body melted into Rayann's numbness.

  "I can't use you anymore," Rayann said weakly.

  "You can if I say you can. I know the score, so why can't we…"

  "Because I know I'm using you. It's not fair to you. Well end up enemies. It won't be hard to find someone who can love you better than I can."

  "Querida," Zoraida said wryly, "you sadly underestimate your prowess at lovemaking. I've grown used to wanting to follow from time to time and you lead so very well. And you follow well, too. How will I find someone so versatile?"

  "I'm sorry," Rayann said.

  "I'm not. I hope you're not either, really."

  Rayann looked at Zoraida's passionate mouth, the powerful shoulders, her incredibly soft breasts, then the smooth stomach ending in the dark silken hair. "I'm not sorry," Rayann said, her voice husky. "Only if I've hurt you."

  "Oh, I'm bruised, but I'm tough." Zoraida traced Rayann's upper lip with a long finger. "Novita, uno mas, por favor. For old time's sake."

  "Con mucho gusto," Rayann answered. She kissed away Zoraida's groan, yielded to her mouth. "You lead."

  9

  Rough Wood

  While Louisa picked out a video for the evening's entertainment, Rayann idly sketched some brochure ideas for a fundraiser to benefit a shelter for homeless women. She had visited the shelter earlier in the day and accepted the pro bono assignment. She missed Zoraida and was filling the empty hours with more work. She spent just as much time thinking about Louisa as before and she was beginning to get disgusted with herself.

  "What would prevent you from giving money to a homeless women's shelter?" Rayann's question broke several minutes of silence and Louisa blinked at her.

  "What would prevent me? Well, I suppose lack of money. Or other charities I thought more important. Why do you ask?"

  "We're tying to get money from people who don't identify with the problem, at least not yet. The director said that women who are at the poverty level, or just barely ahead, already give money to them because they identify. They know they're only a paycheck away."

  "I identify," Louisa said. "I'm well aware that if Chris's insurance hadn't paid for this place I'd have to give it up. My life would have been pretty rocky. Ted would have been on his own for college."

  It would have served him right — look how he's repaying you. "What would you have done?"

  "Oh, probably gone back full-time to something in retail and found an apartment. We were both still working part-time because the income from the store didn't cover the mortgage." Louisa smiled fondly. "Chris and I worked at the same store when we met. I was in Children's Wear and she was in Notions. We talked woman-stuff about kids and clothes for almost three months and then I invited her over for coffee and to meet the kid I talked about all the time. She stayed the night and every night after that until . . . the accident."

  Rayann had been doodling while Louisa talked, but she hung on every word. Since the near miss with Ted, Louisa had opened up a lot. To Rayann, it sounded as if Louisa was reminding herself of the reasons she had chosen to hide her sexuality from her son. "Did living together help with raising Teddy?"

  "Oh, yeah. But a lot of other things got harder. We could pretend we lived together for monetary reasons. By and large that worked. Chris could never call Teddy's school, though, or pick him up if he was sick. And I couldn't put her name down for emergencies. We did what we had to do to hide our relationship. What really made it hard was keeping up appearances with our few lesbian friends. They had such definite ideas as to what a lesbian couple should look like. They expected me to do the housework and Chris was supposed to play with Teddy, show him how to be tough. Danny was the worst," she said, with a grin. "The absolute worst. She's softened up over time. I don't know what I would have done without her."

  "Were friends so hard to come by that you had to pretend?" Rayann asked in curiosity, not critically.

  "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think everyone puts up appearances for their friends — even ones with demanding standards. Their approval helped us accept ourselves. We didn't have any role models except the Ozzie and Harriet variety and friends helped us. Oh, I don't know — they helped us put Ozzie and Harriet through a wringer and make use of what came out the other side. A little skewed and wrinkled, for sure, but the roles helped." Rayann watched Louisa's hand twine into her hair, idly coiling some of the curls around one finger. "And they helped me keep Teddy — they gave character references to social workers and lied through their teeth for me."

  "They said you had character? They were lying," Rayann joked. She looked away from Louisa's fingers and back to her sketchpad.

  Louisa laughed. "Oh, they said I dated men, they'd seen me themselves, but not too many men, in fact I'd had a steady boyfriend for a while but he'd moved away, what a pity. The phantom male's life history was kept up to date, just in case of a surprise phone call from a social worker. They were so cooperative with information that I'm surprised the social workers didn't get suspicious."

  "Why did they harass you?"

  "Because I kept getting into trouble in places where I worked." Louisa pushed the tape into the VCR and then settled into her easy chair with the remote control. "One place I made a fuss because the women's bathroom door didn't close properly. Another place I mentioned the word 'union' in the hearing of my supervisor. Then I got arrested at a war protest march. My bosses would tell me that they thought I'd be better off if I stayed home with my son, and when I didn't take kindly to advice they'd call up social services and report a negligent mother, and somehow I always ended up looking for another job. And because I had something to hide, the situation frightened me, but I never got angry. I accepted it as a price to be paid."

  "Once you've given into blackmail you keep paying — but you can stop," Rayann said quietly.

  "I know. I get angry now, but it's all over and done. Almost," Louisa said, just as quietly. Then she cleared her throat and spoke more lightly. "But there's always that last payment to be made and it's got a lot of interest accumulated. And with Chris gone, there's no reason to force the issue." Louisa stared blankly at Rayann, then blinked and turned her head. She pressed the play button, effectively changing the subject.

  Rayann went back to her sketching, playing with words and icons while half-watching the movie. She didn't want to assimilate what she'd just learned about Louisa because it only widened the gulf between them in time and experience. She wondered if there were something she could take that would make her twenty years older. It's not my fault I came of age during disco. Face facts, you can't change to please others. They have to take you as you are. Rayann sighed. Louisa could take her anywhere she liked.

  She couldn't concentrate on the movie, so she went on doodling and thinking. Her mental meanderings were interrupted by a prolonged banging on the back door — the hallmark of Danny's arrival. Rayann put down her sketchpad and stood up, preparing to make herself scarce. It was hard to watch Danny and Louisa together. They talked to each other almost without words sometimes. Jealousy was not a nice emotion and Rayann was trying to conquer it.

  "Well, I got a job," Danny was saying as she and Louisa came into the living room. "Hi, Ray. How's tricks?" She immediately went to the kitchen for coffee and then sat down in the chair Rayann had vacated. "Would you look at that." She stared at Rayann's sketchpad.


  Alongside her sketches for the women's shelter was an explicit sketch of Louisa's shoulders and breasts.

  "Who does this luscious body belong to?" Danny looked up, a teasing edge to her voice.

  Don't you recognize her? Rayann dug her fingernails into her palms. "It's... from my imagination. I — I've been sketching ideas for the ironwood block downstairs."

  Louisa said, "Ray, I had no idea your imagination was so detailed." Rayann reached for the sketchpad, but Louisa stopped her. "I like it. The body isn't perfect. One boob is just a little bigger than the other."

  "I tried to make it realistic," Rayann choked. She snatched the sketchpad and closed it.

  "And they sag," Danny added. "Now that's realism."

  "Not at Rayann's age," Louisa said with a laugh. "She's got a few years till she sags."

  Rayann's cheeks flamed as both women evaluated her chest, their heads tipped to one side in a similar pose.

  "We've embarrassed her," Danny said.

  "Shell be a better person for it," Louisa said philosophically, then she turned her attention to Danny. "Hey, so what's this about a new assignment?"

  Danny stared into her coffee cup. "You're going to be really pissed off, Lou."

  Rayann returned from the bedroom, after cramming the sketchpad as far under the bed as it would go, and listened to Danny describe the job. She knew Danny was a specialty mechanic, working free-lance on rare cars when there was work and less rare cars in between.

  "Remember when I went to Kansas City last month to get a Rolls for the guy in Blackhawk?" Louisa nodded. "Well, he decided to buy it."

  "So why is that going to piss me off?" Louisa looked both amused and suspicious.

  "Because he wants me to drive it back from Kansas City for him and I have to be back here by Saturday morning. His daughter's getting married on Saturday and he wants to drive her to the church in style. He had been going to buy a different one but that fell through and now it's too late to get a commercial carrier to bring the car out in time."