Warm November

by Kathleen Knowles

  “I don’t know. She was nice and all but…” Hayley struggled with how to articulate what was bugging her. She wasn’t all that into Sherrie. She seemed fine but something seemed off. She was likely just being too picky.

  “I think you can exercise your own judgment. If it’s not there, it’s not there.”

  Hayley wanted to be that decisive. “I don’t want to dismiss someone because she’s not perfect.”

  “And just who, missy, is perfect?” Merle was playful. Her earlier despondence had disappeared. “Besides you and me.”

  Hayley grinned. “No one, of course. But seriously, I think I might be dismissing her too quickly.”

  “So email her back and go on another date.”

  “Right. You’re right. I need you to help me. I really do. I don’t know how to date women.”

  “It’s confusing sometimes but it’s not that hard. At least how I remember. I’ve been out of circulation for a long time. Dating is more like cooking really.” Merle put a lid on the soup pot, lowered the heat, and turned around to lean against the kitchen counter. She flipped her wooden spoon back and forth.

  “You have to have the right mixture of ingredients, the right spices. You can’t cook it too long or you’ll ruin it. You can’t make it work if things aren’t balanced or the ingredients aren’t the correct ones to begin with.”

  “I’m not sure I follow you.” Hayley thought she did follow actually, but she wanted Merle to keep talking because she enjoyed listening to her; she liked the way her mind worked. She was logical and sensible and down-to-earth.

  “Hmm. Well, you have to have the flavors that complement each other. Like salty and tangy. You don’t want too much salt or too much sugar or too much acid. The other woman’s personality has to complement yours.”

  “Oh, like you and me. I’m more talkative, you’re quieter. I’m anxious, you’re a go-with-the-flow type.”

  “Um, yeah, sort of. I guess I wouldn’t use the two of us as an example because we’re just friends. You can have compatibility but not have that, you know, sexual spark. The romantic attraction.”

  To Hayley’s surprise, Merle blushed.

  “So without that…you, eh. Well, the dish might taste okay, but it’s not going to last.” Merle’s voice trailed off. What was she thinking about? Herself and Kay?

  “I’m afraid your analogy fell apart there.”

  “No. It’s valid. Lots of women get together and think they’ve got it, but all they’ve got is a good friendship. Emotional compatibility but no sex.”

  “Really? That happens?”

  “Oh yeah. A lot. Then the person finds a new woman and cheats on her lover and goes off with the new girl.”

  “No! Yuck.”

  “Serial monogamy. It’s kind of a game.”

  “Now I’m truly scared of dating.”

  “Don’t be. It’s not always like that. My friends Sigrid and Clea have it all. They’re totally compatible. They work.”

  “Yes, I could see that.” But Hayley didn’t want to hear about Sigrid and Clea just then. She wanted to know why Merle had suddenly gotten so embarrassed but didn’t want to come right out and ask. Instead she said, “Look at this one.” She moved the laptop around and pointed to the picture of a vivacious-looking woman who had soft, light-brown hair and was clearly mature.

  Hayley read the profile out loud. “I’m a dreamer and thinker. I love nature and travel. I can be serious but I like to laugh.”

  She looked at Merle, who’d crossed her arms with the wooden spoon still clutched in her hand. She looked as though she was ready to do battle. But with whom?

  Merle shrugged. “Why not? What have you got to lose?”

  *

  Merle went out with Arthur to let him pee before they went to bed. He wandered his backyard sniffing here and there and took his time about it.

  She brooded. It was crazy to react the way she had during her little speech to Hayley about the similarities between love and women and cooking.

  The problem was, something was going on with her. Every time she saw Hayley, she caught her breath. She didn’t have to manufacture excuses to spend time with her because they already spent a great deal of time together. She stared at Hayley when she wasn’t looking, focusing on her face or the way her hair swept her collar and how she always unconsciously tucked it behind her ear. She noticed the way Hayley walked, the way she sat. She was graceful and at home in her body, which was just curvaceous enough. Her breasts were a perfect size 36C. Merle had actually looked at one of her bras in the laundry room and then felt terrible but secretly vindicated because that was the size she’d guessed.

  She couldn’t detect anything like this going on with Hayley. The worst was how grouchy she felt when Hayley was talking about her dates. She took special pains to hide this horribly juvenile reaction, for her own sake as well as Hayley’s. No amount of self-talk seemed to make it go away though.

  “Arthur. Come on.” Now she was getting cranky with Arthur because he took too long for his business. Sheesh. She was a head case. Hayley kept coming to her and either asking for help or being helpful. It was wonderful yet insane. She was the opposite of Kay; every emotion was on the surface. So if that was true, it followed that if Hayley was attracted to her, she’d show it, wouldn’t she? Merle couldn’t answer that question to her satisfaction. And, even if it were true, they were never going anywhere so it was all fruitless speculation. Arthur finally came trotting over, quite pleased with himself because he’d accomplished his mission.

  The living room was quiet and empty. Hayley had gone upstairs to bed. After she locked the doors and turned out all the lights, Merle trudged up the stairs, her thoughts about Hayley still swirling.

  *

  For her date with the “dreamer / thinker” brunette, Hayley chose a simple, low-impact milieu: a walk in Golden Gate Park. They arranged to meet at the Children’s Carousel.

  Their profile pictures made it easy to locate one another in the crowd. After they shook hands and introduced themselves, Hayley suggested they sit for just a moment and plan which direction to take for their walk. She’d thought of a couple of questions she could ask to help them overcome their discomfort and start talking.

  Mona was her name, and other than the fact that her profile picture was clearly outdated, she was as advertised.

  “Did you like merry-go-rounds when you were a kid?” Hayley asked. They were sitting on a bench just outside of the park’s vintage nineteenth-century carousel.

  Mona’s eyes lit up like she was a ten-year-old on Christmas morning. “Oh yes. They were my all-time favorites. You know, we lived on the east side of Pittsburgh and there’s a great amusement park there, Kennywood Park. Have you heard of it?”

  “I—”

  “We always went there for our school picnics, every year in May. They gave us the day off and everything. I went on all the rides twice and maybe four times on the merry-go-rounds ’cause they were the best. One year, I got a plantar’s wart and it hurt like hell to walk around, but I didn’t let that stop me, no way. I was hetero in those days so you know I was always plotting to be with some boy in my class. My senior year I was stuck on Rob Jones. Boy, was he ever the cutest…”

  Hayley lost the train of conversation even though she tried hard to follow. She couldn’t say a thing and gave up trying until Mona, at last, stopped for breath.

  “Let’s go this way,” Hayley suggested and led them past the bocce ball courts and toward Kennedy Drive. They were in front of a sign that read National AIDs Memorial Grove.

  Hayley interrupted Mona mid-sentence to ask, “How about we walk down here?” She indicated the path that led downward to a concave area.

  “Oh. All right.” Hayley thought she detected a note of negativity, but it was likely just because she’d interrupted the flow of Mona’s words.

  They walked to a small area lined with stones, names engraved in many of them.

  “In the law office where I
got my first job,” Hayley said, “a lawyer, one of the partners, got AIDS. He would struggle to come to work when I could tell he didn’t feel well, and then he stopped showing up. We went to his memorial, which was one of the saddest things I ever experienced. Such a waste. I knew a couple of other people, but they were—”

  “I don’t like to think about it.” Mona’s eyes were narrowed and her lips a straight line. “It was their own fault. They ought to have known better. It wasn’t something women would have ever gotten. We just got caught up in the anti-gay hysteria. I don’t know why lesbians even bothered getting involved. They were so misogynistic, they wouldn’t have done a thing if it was us…”

  Hayley was too stunned to even try to interrupt that monologue. Mona was pretty, enthusiastic and, it seemed, gainfully employed. However, Hayley wondered how her coworkers in the investment office where she worked coped with her conversational style.

  They made an hour’s circuit and ended up back at the carousel, where they made their good-byes.

  “I’ll give you a call,” Hayley said.

  “Thanks. I really enjoyed myself. I’d love to see you again.”

  Hayley wondered how Mona had reached that conclusion. She knew more than she wanted to know about her, but what Mona had learned about her was minimal.

  When she was home and Merle returned, she said, “I can’t wait to tell you about this one.”

  “I have to do some weeding.” Merle looked at Hayley with a question in her eyes.

  “Oh sure, yeah. Let me help you.” They went to work on the foxtails that threatened to crowd out the flowers.

  Hayley told Merle about the date with Mona, and she chuckled. “Must be a nervous reaction.”

  “Oh, do you think that’s it?”

  “Might be.” Merle stabbed her spade viciously at a stalk of thistle.

  “Well. I liked her. She seemed nice, but Lord, the stream-of-consciousness talking.”

  “So you’ve had three dates. The walker, Terry, and now the talker, Mona. What about Sherrie?”

  “I don’t know. She wants to go out with me again, but I can’t decide if I want to. She’s nice enough but there’s just something off. Maybe I’ll see her again. What do you think?”

  Merle wiped her forehead with the back of her arm. It was warm in the backyard in the late afternoon, and she was flushed. Hayley liked the look of the color in Merle’s cheeks. And her slightly tousled hair had sweaty ends. Merle was quieter than usual, though. What was she thinking? She waited, watching Merle closely.

  “I think,” Merle paused and stuck her hoe in the dirt before answering, “you should do what you believe is right for you.”

  This wasn’t what Hayley wanted to hear. She wanted Merle to tell her positively either not to see Sherrie or to see her. Merle’s tone was off. She wasn’t super-expressive in normal circumstances, but now she was speaking in a monotone.

  “I’m asking you for your opinion.”

  “I generally don’t offer opinions or give advice. What if I’m wrong?”

  “What if you are?” Hayley was being a pill but she truly wanted to know.

  “Look. If you’re not sure, why not just go out with her again and see what happens?”

  “Right. That wasn’t too difficult to say, was it? Thank you. I appreciate your feedback. I really do. Now, what can I do to help?”

  “If you’d like, start taking out that bitter cress over there. Here’s the hoe.”

  *

  Hayley was in the kitchen fixing dinner when Merle’s cell rang in the living room and Merle picked up.

  Merle didn’t go up to her bedroom to talk but instead stayed on the couch. Hayley knew she shouldn’t listen, but she couldn’t help it.

  “Oh. Yeah. I’m glad you called. How’re you doing?” A pause as she listened to the person on the other end.

  “Uh-huh. I know…That is pretty awful. It’s a sad truth that when we first get sober we don’t necessarily get peace. Instead we get a whole lot more chaos. Is he still drinking?”

  She was talking to someone in AA, someone evidently in trouble.

  “You are not at fault for this. He’s going to do what he’s going to do. Your first priority is taking care of yourself. Are you afraid you’re going to drink?” Another long pause.

  “Do you have a safe place you can go?” Pause. “Good.” Pause. “Think through the drink.” Merle laughed.

  Such levity in the midst of what sounded like a tense situation surprised Hayley.

  “Oh. It means that you picture the steps that follow that first drink. You have the second, and then pretty soon you’re on the tenth. Then you’re online to cruise for sex, and then you get high and then you maybe have unsafe sex. Then the hangover. Yada yada. You get the picture.” She laughed again. Hayley surmised she was talking to a gay guy.

  “Right. Go into the guest room. Close the door. Read your big book. Do the next right thing.” Pause. “Yes. I swear it will pass.” Pause. “Oh, already? Good. See? Gone. For now.” Pause. “Yes. Of course. Call me whenever. I’ll see you at the meeting on Tuesday.”

  While they ate their dinner, they stuck to innocuous, general subjects. Merle seemed calmer and smiled a few times, but Hayley still wondered. She wanted to ask what was wrong, but that would be intrusive. She’d grown so fond of Merle and her quiet persona that hid so much strength and compassion. The tenderness in her voice and the wisdom of her words to the person on other end of the phone greatly moved her. How could someone so loving lose the love of her partner? How could she live without love now?

  Hayley longed to ask her those, along with many other, questions, but she wanted to be sure the questions would be welcome. How wonderful it must be to be loved by Merle. Hayley would never have the answer to that question, and she had to stop thinking about or speculating about Merle or she’d lose her mind.

  She booted up her laptop and emailed Sherrie, suggesting a movie and coffee or a drink after the following week. She got an answer almost immediately, which startled her. Sherrie’s email was effusive, going on in detail about how happy she was to hear from Hayley and how fun it would be to get together and so forth. Hayley wrote a short note back, asking Sherrie to pick a couple of movies, and then she logged off, again feeling a little uneasy, but she tamped the sensation down.

  *

  Merle rinsed and put the dishes in the dishwasher and then turned to the pots, which she always washed by hand. She turned over the conversation with Hayley in her mind. Hayley was far too sensitive not to notice how quiet and unengaged she’d become. She simply didn’t want to discuss with Hayley the women she was dating. She couldn’t say anything about how she felt. She was veering very close to having a huge crush on Hayley, and that was crazy. She scrubbed savagely at the pan Hayley had used to make fried rice. Crazy was the only word for it, and she’d have to do something soon. She was praying for release and for acceptance, but it wasn’t working.

  She turned on the water full blast to rinse the soap away and stared out the window over her sink into the backyard. Feeling something cold on her left foot, she looked down and discovered she was standing in a pool of water, so she turned the tap off quickly. She didn’t seem to have splashed water out of the sink, but it was all over the floor and dripping from the cabinet. Annoyed and somewhat anxious, she pulled the cabinet doors open and peered under the sink. The water was dripping from the pipe, just above the joint.

  Shit. It must have sprung a leak. She’d have to call a plumber, damn it.

  It was Sunday night, which would mean overtime. The plumber charged two hundred dollars just to walk through the door. Merle strode into the laundry room and found some old dog towels and started packing them around the items under the sink and spreading them on the floor to soak up the water. Then she remembered that Hayley had told her she could do basic home repairs. Merle hoped this qualified as “basic.” She ran upstairs and knocked on her bedroom door.

  When Hayley opened it, she looked upset,
and Merle wanted to ask her why, but she had a more important issue.

  “Hey. Sorry to bother you, but I think the kitchen sink’s leaking.”

  “Uh, sure, I’ll be right down.” Hayley turned away, muttering something about where she might have stored her tools.

  Merle pulled all the junk out from under the sink and located her strongest, brightest flashlight. Hayley appeared a few minutes later with a large metal box in her hand.

  “Can I have the flashlight? Go ahead and turn the water on—not too fast.”

  “Right. How’s this?”

  Hayley was down on her hands and knees halfway into the cabinet. The flashlight roamed. “Okay. Turn it off!” She backed out and stood up,

  “How old’s the pipe?”

  “Lord. I have no idea.”

  “Well, these things rust and get fragile over time, especially if you cook with a lot of lemon. The acid eats away the metal. But they just get worn out as well.”

  “Hmm. Kay went through a long phase of eating fish cooked in lemon a couple years back.”

  “There you go.”

  “Can you fix it?”

  “Yeah, but I need to go get a new pipe fitting. See this part…” Hayley motioned for Merle to lean into the cabinet. They were side by side, kneeling on the floor, their shoulders touching. Their heads were so close, Merle could smell her shampoo, some sort of lavender-scented thing, and a wisp of Hayley’s hair brushed her cheek. She held her breath and tried to concentrate as Hayley pointed out where the pipe was leaking.

  “It needs a new U-trap. We can get one at a hardware store if we can find one open. Oh. Home Depot—right? That’s open like every day till midnight, right?”

  “Yeah, I guess. I don’t know for sure.”

  “I’ll call but I’m pretty sure. Let’s go.”

  “You want to go now?”

  “Sure. Unless you want to wait until tomorrow? We need the kitchen sink, don’t we? You don’t want to rinse dishes in the laundry room.”

  “No. Let’s just do it.”