by Terry Brewer
At times her job was challenging but it was often mechanical. She took advantage of its mundaneness to take her mind off Michelle. But after a break-up, she’d never before needed a distraction. She was miserable by the weekend. It wasn’t her fault. Michelle wouldn’t stand up for her. It might have been okay if Val was a “normal” lesbian. Not when she was a butch. No chance.
When Michelle walked into Ethel’s on her own on the Saturday when the story began, the question where-is-Val? ricocheted around the room. Sally and Eve saw her first and saw the state she was in and led her to a small table. Bringing her diluted booze and watching for Val to come through the door.
Michelle was not nearly as drunk as she thought she was when her phone rang. Caller ID said “Rose”—Michelle mumbled that it was her sister—and Eve decided to pick it up with “hello.” To Rose’s “who’s this?” Eve asked her to hold for a moment as she went out onto the sidewalk.
“I’m sorry. I am Eve Young and I’m one of Michelle’s friends.”
“Are you her girlfriend?”
Eve chuckled. “No. I’m taken. Look. Michelle just broke up with her girlfriend and she’s in a very bad way. She came into the bar we all hang out in and my wife and I took her under our wing, making sure she’s okay.”
“I’ve been trying to reach her and she’s not returned my calls or voicemails. Is she going to be okay?”
Eve did her best to explain the situation. It began with something about Michelle’s parents and Vic being upset that Michelle wouldn’t tell them about her.
“I’ve told her.” This was Rose. “It has to come out. She can’t live the way she’s been living. But she won’t do it. I wouldn’t care if it were me, but she lived for their approval when we were growing up. I may be able to drive down tomorrow. I’m up in Albany and my husband and I could do a day trip if you think it’d help.”
“Let me call you in the morning.”
When Eve got back to the table, Sally and Michelle seemed deep in conversation. She and Sally were not among Michelle’s close friends but none of those were at Ethel’s that night. The couple debated and decided to bring Michelle to their place on the Upper West Side. It was a one-bedroom and they’d flip to see who got the couch and who got the bed with Michelle for the night. At about ten, they took a cab uptown and after Michelle threw up in the bathroom, they cleaned her up and lent her some pajamas and she was asleep within minutes of getting in bed.
Eve and Sally spoke about it in the living room. Sally’s folks had been fine with her being a lesbian, but Eve struggled with hers. Her mother was initially just okay with it but gradually opened herself to her daughter. Eve’s father only started to come around after one of his tennis buddies told him he was being an ass for not supporting her. She still feared that his initial animosity was lurking just below his surface, but he seemed to be evolving about her and about her wife.
So the pair well knew about these tensions, and they knew some who hadn’t seen or spoken to their parents in years. The couple understood that all families are different and that their and all of their friends’ coming-out stories differed. Some went well. Some went nuclear. But a rising cultural-tide had made it easier than it had been not too long before. Still, everyone is different.
They worried about being sucked into something that was not their business but they were at Ethel’s and Michelle was sleeping in their bedroom so they would have to carry on.
At about ten on Sunday morning, Eve called Connie Dyson, one of Michelle’s closest friends. Although Eve wanted to minimize the crowd so as not to pressure Michelle, she told Connie and her wife Paula to come over and they got there at about eleven.
The four were too many, and Michelle felt trapped and being spoken down to and it was all too much.
“Look. I appreciate what you have all done for me and what you are trying to do for me. But this is something that I have to deal with. I’m a big girl. okay? So I’m going to clean myself a bit and head home and I’ll try to figure out what I’m doing.”
Eve said she’d spoken to Rose, Michelle’s sister, and that she’d come down from Albany if they thought it would help.
“I’ll call her” and she went into the bedroom and did. She assured Rose that she was fine and had to work some stuff out and she appreciated her offering to come down but it would be best if she didn’t. And so she was spared that bit of drama, and when she had her things, she kissed and thanked everyone and got a cab home.
The four she left—Eve, Sally, Connie, and Paula—sat around uncomfortably after she was gone. They all had their own issues, several of them concerning their parents, and agreed that Michelle had to do what Michelle had to do. And they went for brunch and got to know one another a bit better than they had before.
While they were having mimosas, Michelle sat in her tub as the water began to chill. She, too, knew this moment would come, that she’d be sitting with nothing but her thoughts and playing out again and again what she had to do. Val wasn’t right. She was not embarrassed for having fallen in love with her. She was embarrassed because she was afraid to come out to her parents.
She’d admired her brother and her sister for being their own people while she remained a creature of her parents. She thought that the moment she stood outside Ethel’s years before and was befriended by someone, entering into that world had freed her from her parents. But it was a lie. She was hiding from her parents.
Cindy
Val knew enough to stay away from Ethel’s for a while. Exes often ran into one another there and it was uncomfortable for everyone. There was a rule that confrontation was not permitted in the bar or within 100 feet of its door. If there was something to be said or to be done, it had to be taken outside. Maggie’s rule.
Val didn’t want to take the chance of running into Michelle. About a week after whatever happened with Michelle happened, she looked up Cindy, with whom she’d had an off-and-on relationship for a couple of years. Cindy was between women, and the two had a nice dinner on Saturday, and they returned to Val’s walk-up. Cindy knew the apartment and Val’s routine well and after using the bathroom she walked, naked, into the bedroom. Val was waiting. Naked on the bed. Cindy removed her left, prosthetic leg. The two lay down facing one another until Val turned Cindy onto her back. Dripping kisses on Cindy’s mouth, her right hand moved across her labia and her right middle finger easily entered Cindy’s pussy, quickly followed by the index and ring fingers.
Val began moving in and almost-out, curling her fingers to seek out Cindy’s g-spot, now looking into the femme’s eyes. Cindy started to move her left hand to her clit but stopped, using it instead to push Val away and out of her.
“What the fuck Val. Who are you fucking?”
“You, of course.”
“Bullshit.” She pushed Val onto her back and rose to look down on her.
“You’ve been with me between other women before, but you’ve always been with me when you’ve been with me. Not tonight. What’s going on?”
All of Cindy’s horniness was gone, replaced by concern, which is the last thing either of them could have expected.
“Shit. You’re in love aren’t you?”
Val plopped down, looking at the ceiling.
“That obvious?”
“I know you too well. You’ve never appreciated how much of a romantic you are. It’s one reason why I enjoy being with you so much, however infrequently.”
“I thought it was my fingers…And other real and fake body parts.”
This garnered a light slap.
“You know we do love each other in our own, bizarre way.” Cindy was on her right side, her left hand idly drawing patterns on Val’s stomach. Their eyes met. “You realize that, don’t you?”
Val raised her head to give Cindy a peck on the lips and plopped back down.
“I’m so fucked.”
Cindy lay too and pulled the sheet over them as they were beginning to get chilly. She let Val tell her story about
her Michelle.
“You shouldn’t have lost your temper.”
“I know.”
“You know enough people who haven’t come out to be ready when she told you she hadn’t.”
“I know.”
“In the end, do you care? If her parents are so…paranoid, would it bother you to never ever have to see them? And would you be enough for her?”
“But I was such a shit to her. ‘Leave the keys.’ What was I thinking?”
“Which is the point. You weren’t thinking. One word: Grovel.”
“Fuck you.”
“Val. Much as I’d love you continuing to be a free agent so I can get fucked by you now and then—and I mean when you are fucking me and not someone else in your head like tonight—I do love you and I do want you to be happy. So, again, you have to grovel. The old Val wouldn’t grovel. But the old Val wouldn’t be in love with someone. The new Val? She has to grovel.”
“I know.”
And the two took care of things and after they’d put on t-shirts—Cindy borrowing one of Val’s—they fell asleep. And Cindy wrapped her arms around her friend as they did.
I’m Not the Groveling Type
The next day, Sunday, was quiet. Cindy had gotten up around seven and after reattaching her leg and taking a shower, she sat on the bed until Val stirred. She ran her finger across Val’s lips, and Val kissed it.
“You know what you have to do. ‘Grovel’ is today’s magic word.” With that Cindy was gone.
After a lazy day, Val decided to venture to Ethel’s. There was little chance that Michelle would be there on a Sunday, and if she was Val thought she’d be ready. But she wasn’t there. Ethel’s was quiet. She missed the place. She was hoping for some support. She sat alone at a small table waiting for her burger and fries, sipping on a beer. Estelle came over. They were sometime rivals for taller femmes. Estelle sat, uninvited, on a chair opposite Val’s.
“You shouldn’t have let that filly get away.” She smirked. “She was a hot one when I finally got her into my bed. You—”
Val was on her feet.
“Outside.”
“What? I didn’t think it’s a big deal. You dumped—”
Val started to walk towards the door, grabbing Estelle’s arm as she passed. The mini-disturbance was noticed by a few people, including Maggie, who followed the pair outside and around the corner, past the no-arguing line.
“You keep your fucking hands off of her.”
“Shit, Val. She came on to me. She told me you and she were history and she was glad to be rid of you.”
This shut Val up.
“You’re lying you stupid—”
“Just calm down. I thought she was free. I don’t need to get into bad shit with you. I really thought you’d gotten rid of her. I knew she was on the rebound but—”
“You knew something was going on between us. We had some issues. Did you say she came onto you?”
“I swear. I thought she was off-limits. I thought the two of you were good together. She tapped my arm and said she was ‘going to the Ladies’ and I followed her. I asked about you. She said you and she were over. Fuck, she started running her hands up and down my sides. What was I supposed to do?”
“You were supposed to tell her to get her head out of her ass.”
Maggie was observing this; it did not seem they’d come to blows.
“Okay. I probably should have, okay. But I didn’t. I took her home and—”
“Enough. Did anything more happen? Have you seen her again?”
“Seriously. It was nice. She is a catch. But it was ‘blah.’ I think she was somewhere else the whole time. I don’t think she’s over you. I don’t know why, but she’s got a thing for you.”
The two sat on the sidewalk, leaning against the building they were in front of. Maggie went back to the bar.
“It was her folks. She—”
“She told me. Look. It’s in my interest to get you into a relationship. Cuts down on the competition. And you know I sort-of like you in some sick way. If she tried to get you out of her system, I don’t think it worked. Track her down.”
“You ever feel like this for someone?”
“It was a long time ago. She left me for someone who had a fully-functioning dick. Talk about a phase. Poof! Gone. But not forgotten. I got over it. I still hope to find another one. If you’ve found yours, don’t fuck around with it. Why give a shit about her parents? She’s a big girl.”
Estelle placed her arm around Val, who placed her head on the shoulder of her friend and rival.
“Call her.” She stood, reaching her hand to help Val get up. “And if you don’t come back, can I finish your burger. Which is likely to be pretty cold by now.”
“Fuck you, you bitch.”
Estelle left and Val hit Michelle’s speed-dial number. It rang just once and went to voicemail. She had been screened out.
“Michelle. It’s…It’s Val. Look. Can we just talk? Please. Give me a call. You have the number.”
Don’t Leave a Message at the Tone
Michelle stared at her phone. She rejected the call. She did not need to hear Val ask when she’d be getting her things from the apartment. She’d leave them there forever if she had to. Not only had she failed when Val wanted her to be proud of her, but she also picked up Estelle and let Estelle fuck her. She knew it was wrong when she whispered to Estelle and when she waited for Estelle in the Ladies room and when she went home with Estelle and when she let Estelle inside her. Estelle probably only did it to get back at Val.
The one thing Michelle did know was that she was never going back to Ethel’s. It had been her refuge but she’d ruined it. With Val. With Estelle. With getting drunk and having to be put into bed like a three-year-old brat. That’s what they all thought she was and they’d all laugh at her if she showed up. But she was never going to show up. She would find another place. Another crowd. Another woman who could love her and understand why she couldn’t tell her parents.
She deleted Val’s voicemail message without listening to it. She did not need the stuff left there.
It’s Estelle
At that point, Val and Michelle had several similarities. Each thought the other had abandoned her. Each feared going to Ethel’s lest she run into the other. Each was more lonely than she had ever been. Each was in love and each was too stubborn to do anything about it. So each spent their weekdays at work less than a mile away from one another and their weekends thinking of one another.
On a Saturday afternoon a couple of weeks later, Val was feeling sorry for herself and telling herself that, yes, she would find someone to take home that night when she heard a banging on her door.
“Val. Open this fucking door.”
Estelle. Val let her in.
“I miss you.”
“What do you mean, you miss me. We hate each other.”
“It’s one of those love-hate things. You know that. Look. Neither you nor Michelle has been at Ethel’s since our little chat.”
“She hasn’t?”
“No, she hasn’t. We all—”
“What do you mean ‘we all.’”
They sat on the sofa after Estelle declined Val’s offer of coffee or water.
“The gang. We’re a regular garden-party now that you’re gone. No. Maggie and a bunch of Michelle’s friends. Note that I didn’t say any of your friends, you cow.”
“Fuck you.”
“Only if you let me be on top.”
That shut Val up.
“Look. If Michelle were over you, we figure she’d be on the prowl again. Like that fucked-up night with me. But she’s not. I told you she still—”
“I called her that night. She’s ghosted me.”
“Swallow your pride. She probably thinks you’re still done with her, that you wanted her to get her shit from here.”
Estelle looked around. “You know, this place really is a dump.”
“Fuck you.”
&n
bsp; “You’re like a fucking parrot. I’m trying to help. I’m not trying to move in.”
Lunch with Connie
I can’t believe I’m doing this. It’s like I’m back in high school. This was the thought bouncing around Connie Dyson’s brain as she waited for Michelle on Madison Avenue in front of Michelle’s office. They’d arranged to meet for lunch, and Connie promised they’d go to a great place “not too far away” and that it would be “so worth it.”
The two hugged when Michelle came through the revolving door and Connie led her south. A few blocks east and after Michelle’s umpteenth “how far is it?” they were there.
“You bitch. I’m not going in.”
“Look, Michelle. You’ve ghosted everyone. Nobody’s seen you in weeks. The gang—”
“What ‘gang’?”
“A bunch of folks at Ethel’s who have your best interest at heart. Here’s the thing.”
They were standing on the sidewalk along the building line.
“Do you love Val?”
“That’s over.”
“That’s not the question. Do You Love Val? Yes or no?”
Michelle glared at her friend before issuing a meek, “yes.”
“Okay. Do you know that Val is madly in love with you?”
“Not after what I did to her.”
“She does not care.”
“How do you know?”
“Because we’re not a bunch of idiots and Estelle—”
The name froze Michelle.
“Michelle. We know what happened with her.”
“It was a huge mis—”
“She thinks it was a huge mistake too and feels horrible about it. She told everything to Val when they were about to get into an epic catfight outside Ethel’s—Maggie was there to be the referee—and more than anything Val was upset because she was afraid she’d lost you. Okay?”