Ain't Gonna Be the Same Fool Twice (29 page)

“Yeah, we did.”

“Stevie, what the fuck has gotten into you!”

“You mean besides your brother's dick? Sterling, why are you going to Hollywood? You pick up men at the baths and God knows where else.”

“Honey, I just take care of business.”

“So, you should understand attraction.”

“I can understand anybody wanting a piece.”

“I thought so.”

“What I can't understand is this flip-flopping. You don't see no sign outside my window, saying House of Damn Pancakes. Do you?”

“No.”

“Stevie, you don't wake up one morning, and just say, I think I'll be straight today.”

“It just happened, OK?”

“Well, don't let it happen again. You have to get your identity straight—I mean clear.” Sterling smiled. “You have your reputation to consider.”

“I do?”

“Yes, you're building a portfolio.”

“Why can't I be open to whatever feels right?”

“Because, then the next thing you know they'll be calling you bisexual.”

“That's so bad?”

“Stevie, everybody hates bisexuals. Lesbians will think you're just a straight woman experimenting at their expense. And heterosexuals will see you as a nymphomaniac.”

“Well, what's the solution?”

“You've either figured out you're really straight after one experience with a woman and you'll never look at another woman again.”

“I can't agree to that.”

“Let me finish. Or you can be a lesbian who just got attracted to a man. Quiet as it's kept, it happens sometimes. My cousin Jackie in L.A. says lesbians digress occasionally.”

“You mean like a recovering alcoholic falling off the wagon?”

“Exactly, but you can still maintain your lesbian identity and nobody's the wiser.”

“Why do I have to maintain anything? Why can't I just be myself?”

“Sounds catchy, but I think you'll discover it's a gay world, after all.”

15

I got the job at the Personal Change Center! I was alone when they called; Sterling was at work. They say success means nothing if you don't have anyone to share it with. So, I called Mama.

“Mama, I gotta job!”

“Which one?” she asked skeptically. Her dry tone took a little bit of the wind out of my sails.

“The receptionist job I told you about at the Personal Change Center.”

“Oh, the one with those nut cakes.”

“I can deal with them. I'm just happy finally to be working.”

“How much did you say it pays?”

I hadn't said. “Six hundred dollars a month, plus benefits.”

“They're paying garbagemen more than that. And you're young, benefits aren't that important.”

“I'm not tripping on the money. It's more than enough to make ends meet. I've been surviving on a lot less.”

“To think, after four years of college you'd settle for a receptionist job. Just letting your education go down the drain.”

“Mama, it's a foot in the door. I don't plan to be a receptionist forever.”

“What
do
you plan to be?”

“I plan to use this gig to get established. I'm still gonna keep my eyes open for jobs in the media. I might even go to graduate school.”

“If you get a master's degree, then maybe they'll let you be a secretary,” Mama said sarcastically.

“Mama, it's tough out here. You can't just pop your fingers and get a glamorous job. They've got Ph. D.'s waiting tables and driving cabs.”

“Anybody with a Ph.D. who's dumb enough to wait tables or drive a cab deserves to have his degree taken away.”

“You don't understand. There are people who'll take almost any job just for the privilege of living in San Francisco.”

“All I can say is they need to throw a net over the place.”

“Now at least I can start looking for an apartment.”

“Yeah, I guess you don't want to wear out your welcome in that fellow's house. You know how temperamental sissies are. Sterling might just come home one day and start redecorating and decide you don't match the new pillows.”

“Mama, you oughta quit.”

“You know they can get hysterical at the drop of a hat.”

I sighed. “How's everybody?”

“David hurt his knee in basketball practice.”

“Is he okay?”

“Yeah, the doctor says it wasn't serious. But he has to sit out a few games. Your other brother jumped up and joined the marines.

“What about his asthma?”

“It hasn't been acting up. So, they let him in this time.”

“Why would Kevin want to join the service?”

“Everybody can't play basketball. This way Kevin can get an education and see the world.”

“Yeah, he can go to exotic places and meet exotic people and kill them.”

“Vietnam is over.”

“Yeah, but you never know when they'll get involved in another one.”

“I'm not for killing. But I'm not gonna knock his decision. They're doing more killing right here in Chicago. They've been pressuring Kevin to join a gang.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yeah, it's getting rough out here. Kevin's friend Taureen just got shot last week in the arm. He's got a cousin in the gangs. Kevin says it was a revenge shooting.”

“Is Taureen all right?”

“Yeah, he's OK. But you know he's scared. He never knows when it might happen again.”

I sighed. “How's Daddy?”

“Better, now that Kevin has enlisted. They've had a few runins. Kevin's no white tornado around the house. And he likes to stay on the phone when he's not out in the streets. Ray resents him, and when he's had a few drinks your father is Chief Snorting Bull. But the doctor told him he better lay off alcohol.”

“Hope it didn't go through one ear and out the other,” I said.

“Time will tell.”

“How's Grandma?”

“She's right here. But she gave us a little scare last night. Thank the Lord, when she woke up this morning her bed wasn't her cooling board and her sheet wasn't her shroud.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I'll let her tell you.”

“Grandma, what happened?” I asked, concerned.

“Chile, I liked to left here last night.”

“What do you mean, Grandma? You've hardly known a sick day in your life.”

“Well, the old gray mare ain't what she used to be.”

“Come on, you're still frisky as a filly.”

“Well, last night, I didn't think I could gallop another further.”

“What happened?”

“I thought my heart was going to give out. I was in the middle of ironing.”

I felt scared. “Are you okay now? Did you go see a doctor?”

“I'm fine. I took some Alka-Seltzer and everything is hunky-dory.”

“Maybe it was just indigestion.”

“That's all it was. Today I'm fit as a fiddle.”

“It still wouldn't hurt for you to go get a checkup, though.”

“You know I don't fool with doctors. My grandmother lived to be a hundred and seven and never saw a doctor in her life.”

“Grandma, this is a different era.” I almost reminded her that her grandmother had been a slave. But instead I told her about my new job.

So far, I liked the gig. Probably at this point I'd like any job. But I actually enjoyed dealing with people who wanted to grow.

And the reception area was pleasant and comfortable. It used to be the living room of a stately Victorian. It contained enough wood to be considered quaint and enough of a draft to remind you that you were in San Francisco. Unfortunately, the fireplace no longer worked. So I wore my bulky knit Mexican sweater most of the time. And if I still was too cold, I turned on the space heater.

I was the only person of color on staff, except for Carolyn, who was Chinese. She was the bookkeeper, and only came in once a week. The Personal Change Center was one of several organizations she worked for.

Carolyn had a baby, named Jeffrey, but she didn't show you his picture or brag about a new tooth or a first step. The only way I knew about him was the director mentioned something in relation to Carolyn being on maternity leave last year. That's when I found out she had a husband and a child. I asked Carolyn how come she didn't talk about her baby.

“I want him to go to Stanford and become a doctor or engineer. Until then, no reason to brag.”

Carolyn was like that, cut-and-dried, no nonsense. I'm not saying she wasn't a good mother, but let's put it this way, I wouldn't want to be her child.

The telephone interrupted my thoughts. “Personal Change Center, may I help you?” I could barely hear the faint voice at the other end. “Could you speak up a little louder, please?”

“My name is Bonnie MacGregor and I'D LIKE TO SIGN UP FOR THE ASSERTIVENESS TRAINING GROUP!” the woman shouted.

I reached for a folder. “I'm sorry, but that group is full.”

“This is the second time I've tried to get into Assertiveness Training and it's been full. Oh shit! This really pisses me off.”

“Would you be interested in another one of our groups?”

“Just forget it. This just isn't my day. And to top it off, I'm out of Valium.”

“Well, I'm sorry I couldn't help you.”

“It's not your fault. What else have you got?”

“Let's see, there's one space left in the Pre-Orgasmic group. I mean, if that would be appropriate.”

“Yeah, go ahead and sign me up. What the hell, maybe I'll learn how to assert myself in bed.”

Carolyn walked into the reception area lugging her briefcase. Although she was only pushing thirty, she looked matronly in her drab pants and top.

“Have a nice weekend.”

She shook her unstylish bob. “Relatives coming from China.”

“I guess you'll be doing a lot of cooking then.”

Carolyn shook her head again. “Uncle own restaurant, go out every meal.”

“I heard that.”

“What your weekend plans?”

“I'm going to be looking at an apartment, down in the Haight tomorrow. I might end up living right near the corner of Haight and Ashbury. Imagine me living where it all happened!”

Carolyn groaned. “Decent people don't live in the Lower Haight.”

“Where do you live?”

“Richmond District, very respectable.”

I'd gone with Traci to Peg's Place, a lesbian bar on Geary Street. Traci had said it was in the Richmond District.

I bet Carolyn didn't know about her local lesbian watering hole, I thought. But who was I to burst her bubble? “Yeah, but it's flat, out in the Richmond.” I frowned. “No hills, no views.”

“Don't need views if you have inner peace.” Carolyn pointed to her head. “Best views inside here.”

Sterling washed dishes and I swept the floor. He liked to wash dishes so that he could use Palmolive. He swore it softened his hands. What can I say, we were into roles. After a childhood spent being the only girl, I was all too happy to be relieved of dish duty to sweep and mop and take out the garbage instead.

“I've got my eye on this fine-ass Mexicano, darling. Muscles like you wouldn't believe. Works in the mailroom.”

“Latino, huh?”

“
Sí, señorita
. If they fine, they mine.”

“I have a feeling you move fast and you might need the entire mansion to entertain. I don't want to cramp your style.”

“You're not, so don't even trip. Take your time looking.”

I felt relieved that Sterling didn't want me to take just anything. “They wanted a hundred and sixty dollars a month for a studio, and it was a dump!” I complained as I slid the broom under the kitchen table.

“Honey, sometimes it's harder to find an apartment in this town than a job or a lover,” Sterling declared.

I sighed. “The killer was, there were ten people ahead of me. I couldn't even get it if I wanted it. I'm young, black, haven't established any credit.”

“You gotta uphill battle.”

“Carolyn says no decent people live in the lower Haight, anyhow.”

“Don't tell me you came to San Francisco to be surrounded by decent people?”

“Hell no,” I laughed, sweeping up the trash.

I awakened from a nightmare and sat up on the couch. I recalled my dream. “I'm really a good person! I'm really a good person!” I'd shouted. “No, you're not!” An angry mob had insisted. “You're a lesbian!” Then they scurried away, grabbing their children as if fleeing a plague.

I wondered why I hadn't told the people in the dream that I wasn't a lesbian. I didn't see a lesbian when I looked at myself in the mirror. I just saw me. I was attracted to men. I'd even received a postcard from Buster. He wrote that everything was cool. He was working hard and making good money. Buster told me to “stay sweet” and to tell Sterling, “hey.” I missed him. Buster had shown me that I could be satisfied by a man.

But I still felt torn. I didn't want to go back to Traci. But I hadn't forgotten that holding a woman's body had felt like floating on a magic carpet. And sucking a woman's breast had calmed me more than soft music and candlelight. I wanted some more.

Later that day, I was at my desk, bright eyed and bushy tailed. The women were coming in for the first meeting of the Pre-Orgasmic group. Most of them seemed nervous and a little stiff. They were all white, in their twenties or early thirties, except two of them were considerably older. My heart really went out to them. All those years without “getting a nut,” as Sterling would say.

Suddenly, this hip young woman with long blonde hair came bopping in, smiled at everybody, real comfortable-like. Turned out she's the facilitator. She looked to me like she could have multiple orgasms, the way she radiated. Everybody was gazing at her and you know they were all thinking, I hope she can help me.