Ain't Gonna Be the Same Fool Twice (19 page)

“I marched with him in Selma,” Donna continued.

“My grandmother and I marched with Dr. King in Chicago. And my parents took us to hear him speak at Soldier Field. It was very powerful.”

“I also worked with the Black Panthers,” Donna announced.

“And she knows where Patty Hearst is, too.”

“I didn't say that. However, I do know Bill and Emily Harris from my political work.”

“Donna, maybe we could try something a little different.”

“Sure, dear, what?”

“Maybe we could ask Stevie something about herself, or the waiter, or that woman over there. Maybe we could have a conversation that doesen't revolve around you for a change.”

“I haven't minded listening,” I said diplomatically. Donna looked embarrassed. She picked at her tostada.

“How was the movie that you and Traci saw last night?” Jawea asked me.

“
Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore
. It was good; it was about a woman whose husband dies. He was a jerk anyway.”

“That doesn't surprise me,” Donna cut in. Jawea had told me that her parents were divorced.

“Well, anyway, Alice sells everything and strikes out with her son and pursues a singing career. She gets involved with another jerk and works in Mel's Diner.”

“That movie got a good review in
The New York Times
and
The Bay Guardian
. I also noticed your reviewer in Sunday's pink section liked it.”

“Donna, I don't give a shit what
The New York Times
or
The Bay Guardian
said, or whether the little man in the pink section was jumping out of his seat or not.”

“I was just simply showing that there was a consensus. Those sources represent a diverse sampling of opinions.”

“I don't give a shit about a diverse sampling of opinions. What I care about is what Stevie thought, felt, and experienced. Not what some critics who I don't give a shit about thought.”

“Well, didn't Stevie already say that she liked it?”

“That's right, I did, so now let's drop it,” I commanded. “Just watch the people getting off the ferryboat or something,” I suggested. “I don't want to hear any more mess.”

We were walking toward the parking lot, having actually managed to finish our meal in peace. I wondered if the three of us could get back to San Francisco without another argument.

“Look out, Jawea,” Donna said pointing to the ground.

“I don't need for you to tell me to look out. I've been capable of avoiding dog shit for all these years without your help.”

“I wasn't sure that you saw it.”

“Well, if I didn't, then I would learn to be more observant in the future. And besides, if it's my karma to step in dog shit today, who are you to interfere with it?”

“I really don't care, except that we're all riding in the car together and I would have to smell it,” Donna snapped.

After Donna dropped us off, Jawea said, “That's the first time she's ever stood up to me like that. Stevie, I think you brought out the ‘Mama' in her.”

10

I'd decided to come out to Mama, if I could work it into the telephone conversation. Maybe seeing that there was hope for Jawea and her mother had given me courage. Artemis was in my lap. I wasn't sure if she was sticking around to give me moral support or if she was just being nosy.

“Today called, wanted to know if you were still out there with that man,” Mama said, sounding resentful.

“Oh,” I gulped. As far as Mama was concerned, I was out here checking into graduate schools and trying to find work.

“I just sent Today a postcard.” But I'd kept it short and sweet. I hadn't given her the “411” on me.

“Jean, what man is this? I hope that you're not letting some man use you. You're not out there shacking up are you?”

“Mama, whatever I'm doing, I'm over twenty-one.”

“Everybody feels like they have the right to do their own thing these days,” Mama continued. “David announced that he's moving out of the dorm next semester, and Kevin has jumped up and joined the army.”

“And I'm gay,” I said, trying to casually complete Mama's sentence.

“What do you mean, you're gay?”

“I'm a lesbian.”

“Jean, don't be ridiculous! There's no way that you're a homosexual. That doesn't run in our family.”

“You make it sound like it's a disease.”

“I read enough to know it's not a disease. It's a mental disorder.”

“No, it's not, Mama, the American Psychological Association dropped homosexuality from its list of mental disorders two years ago.”

“Why would they go and do a thing like that for?”

“Because it's not a sickness, that's why.”

Mama sucked her teeth in. “They probably just couldn't come up with a cure. So they threw in the towel. They took the easy way out.”

“There's nothing to cure.”

“Hold on while I take a pressure pill.” I felt my stomach tighten and I took a deep breath. At least we were talking about it. That was better than having to keep it all a big secret. But it was hard; I'd driven Mama to take a blood pressure pill. I tried not to feel guilty.

Mama had returned to the phone, but Artemis had jumped out of my lap. I guess she didn't want to be bothered with this conversation anymore. I was on my own.

“Well, Jean Eloise, you might be able to outwit the psychiatrists, but you can't outwit the Master. You can't go against God and Nature without paying the consequences.”

“God made gay people too.”

“God made everybody, including rapists and murderers.”

“Mama, are you equating gays and lesbians with rapists and murderers?”

“I'm just saying that people make choices. And you can't blame God for your actions.”

“What if people are born gay?”

“They still don't have to act on it.”

“But straight people get to act on their feelings.”

“Sin is wrong no matter who commits it.

“But we're not allowed to get married.”

“Don't give me this ‘we' stuff. You're not one of
them
. And I know for a fact that
you
weren't born gay.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I carried you for nine months, that's how. I knew you before you knew yourself. There has never been anything abnormal about you. You weren't even a decent tomboy. If you had some boy in you, I would've picked it up a long time ago.”

“Mama, not all lesbians are diesel dykes.”

“Well, I know that you're not a lesbian. You need to get your behind out of that crazy place and away from those sick people. That's why California is sliding into the ocean now.”

“Why is California sliding into the ocean?”

“Because San Francisco is dripping with sin, that's why. I saw a piece on that ‘Gay Parade' they had out there. It was just like Sodom and Gomorrah.”

“It had nothing to do with Sodom and Gomorrah. The parade had to do with people standing up for their rights and celebrating themselves.”

“Half-naked men dancing with each other; bare-breasted women kissing on one another. God could send an earthquake there anytime. We're in our final days. You need to read Revelations.”

“We've been in our final days ever since I've known you.”

“Jean, the signs are everywhere now.”

“Hold on, there's somebody at the door, I don't know who it could be. I'm not expecting anybody. I'll be right back.”

I returned to the phone.

“Who was it, Satan?” Mama asked with a touch of humor in her voice.

I had to laugh. “No, it was somebody dropping off something for my roommate. Anyway, it really bothers me that you won't accept me for who I am.”

“That's not true.”

“How can it not be true?”

“Because, I accept you just fine. It's you who doesn't accept yourself. You're the one who's going against your own nature.”

“Mama, loving another woman
is
my nature.”

“No it's not. You think rubbing your body up against another woman makes you a lesbian. Well, you're wrong. You're just going through a phase right now, that's all.”

“A phase?”

“Yes, and all I ask is that you keep this mess to yourself. It would break your father's and your brothers' hearts if they knew. They might take this as a rejection of them.”

“Mama, this is not about hating men. This is about loving women.”

“And you certainly don't need to upset your grandmother,” she continued. “Her blood pressure is higher than mine. You don't want to cause her to have a stroke, do you?”

“So I'm just supposed to pretend to everyone, live a lie?”

“I'm trying to protect you.”

“Protect me?”

“Yes, because when you grow out of this mess, you'll look back at this time and thank me for not letting you make a complete fool of yourself with everybody.”

“Mama, I am not going through a phase. I'll be twenty-two years old next month. I'm old enough to know what I want.”

“Talk to me again when you're pushing thirty-five. Then I'll give what you say more weight.”

Pushing thirty-five! “Mama, I'm no virgin!” I blurted out. “I was never satisfied by a man.”

“How many men have you been with? You sound like a streetwalker.”

“I've had a few experiences, OK?”

“Jean, there's more to a relationship than just sex. And most of these young dudes out here don't know what they're doing anyway. You just haven't met the right man yet, that's all.”

“Mama, there might not be a
right
man.”

“When your father and I were newlyweds, I had problems.”

“You and Daddy had problems?” I shouldn't have been surprised, since I'd never remembered them showing any affection for each other.

“I had trouble relaxing,” Mama whispered, even though I was sure that she was alone. “The doctor told me to drink a glass of wine beforehand. It worked, and I have three children to prove it. That's what you need to do. Find you a good husband and drink a glass of wine beforehand.”

“Mama, it's not that simple.”

“Jean Eloise,” Mama lowered her voice even more, “you're not doing anything oral, are you?”

“What's this about Kevin joining the army? Is he crazy? I know the Vietnam War is over, but still.”

“Never mind about Kevin, I'm gonna say an extra prayer for you, just in case.”

That night Traci and I rolled around naked on clean-smelling sheets. The Isley Brothers album was playing on the box. We held each other and kissed. “You wanna do 69?” Traci murmured.

“What's 69?”

“We both eat each other at the same time. We're head to toe and toe to head.”

I tensed up. I'd never done oral sex before. Except for the time a college boyfriend forced me to go down on him. When Myron initially asked me to give him some head, I refused, saying I wasn't ready for that. I was still pretty green, sexually.

To my surprise, Myron became angry and pushed my head on top of his dick. I was afraid not to go along with it, because we were already in the middle of having sex. I knew Myron was stronger than me and I was afraid of getting hurt. So, I sucked Myron's dick like he ordered me too. But I went numb, and I didn't feel much of anything. After that incident, I broke up with Myron. He apologized later, saying he only wanted to make me an all-the-way lover. But I was too through with him. Grandma used to say, “Don't never stay with a man you're afraid of.” And Daddy used to say, “If you ain't got respect, you ain't got anything.”

Traci and I had taken a hot bubble bath together earlier. And even though I'd washed her pussy myself, the thought of tasting genitals didn't appeal to me.

“I … I … I … d-don't think I'm ready for that.”

“Well, I don't want you to do anything before you're ready.”

“I'm sorry,” I said.

“You don't have to be sorry. You just have to be comfortable.”

“You're so sweet.” I kissed Traci. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

I felt a warm glow. It was the first time that Traci and I had said we loved each other.

“If you like, I could just go down on you,” Traci offered.

“No, that wouldn't be fair.”

“Haven't you heard all's fair in love and war?”

“I don't believe everything I hear.”

“Well, let's just rub our chocolate pussies together and see what we come up with then.”

I got on top of Traci and mashed myself into her. We giggled when our vaginas made mushy sounds. Our clitorises touched and we both moaned. I imagined myself wallowing naked in warm sand, waiting for the tide to come in.

I became aware of my own saliva and my tongue pressing against the roof of my mouth, tasting my teeth. The walls of my jaw trembled. Suddenly my mouth felt the urge to merge with Traci's pussy. I slid down her hot, sweet, cinnamon skin. Traci writhed with pleasure when my tongue sampled the salty, gumbo flavor between her legs.

I was sitting at the kitchen table staring out at the overcast sky when Jawea walked in with the mail and handed me an envelope. It turned out to be a rejection letter from a public relations firm I'd interviewed with. I felt disappointed, even though the people in the office had been uptight.

“This woman named Bear came by and dropped off a bunch of fliers. Over there on the counter.”

“Far out,” Jawea said, picking up the stack of papers. “These will help Inez Garcia's defense.”

“Who's Inez Garcia?”

“She's a Latina sister on trial for killing some asshole who raped her.”

“Sounds like self-defense.”

“Damn straight, but they're trying to nail her cause she killed him some time afterward. Like big fucking deal.”