Part 8 (1/2)
She turned the page again and was presented with a view of another rear end - good G.o.d, she was seeing more of this model than she'd ever seen of Parker. The headline on a personal ad caught her eye: Hung Hunk Hankers for Head.
She grimaced. It wasn't that she was a prude - well, maybe she was. It's just that she didn't think that a few breathless moments with every nerve in her body yearning for another woman's touch meant her entire life was about s.e.x. What about... affection? Trust? The real L-word- Love?
Her mother had always said that when the critics are out to get you, you have to put on a brave front. Maybe that's what these ads were all about. They made an interesting contrast - on the right was freewheeling s.e.x. On the left a photo of a fundamentalist throwing acid at gay rights demonstrators.
Her common sense spoke up. You know, Jackie, you have a new job and lots of stress and strain right now. There's no point in trying to figure this all out in a day. Why not go home and make a reservation for the Christmas dinner? And just concentrate on work for a while?
She frowned again. The reason she was sitting in this coffeehouse was because she didn't know how to spend weekends in her studio. It didn't feel like a home and she now realized that part of the emptiness she had felt with Parker had been the lack of a shared home. Her roots weren't in her apartment and she felt adrift.
To fill time, she'd spent all of yesterday composing a two-line note to include with Leah's gloves. That at least was done. Today the apartment had seemed cold and dark. It was too soon to feel lonely, but if she gave it half a chance, she would.
She wasn't ready for Noe Valley. At that idea she smiled. She certainly wasn't ready for the Castro. At 27, she was definitely a member of the ”older crowd” in the coffeehouse and one of a few with monotone hair. Her black jeans were okay, but the Shetland sweater did not exactly fit in. She wondered if the local AIA chapter had a gay/lesbian bulletin board on Internet. She smiled again. Now that was a good idea.
”I didn't know you lived around here!”
Jackie glanced up in surprise and found Mary Nguyen giving her a lopsided smile. After exclaiming over the coincidence of running into Mary, she said, 'I thought you lived in the Sunset.”
”I do, but I had a date. Come join us,” she said with sincerity. Mary nodded toward a slender, mid-twenties Filipino woman who nodded back at Jackie and sent a look that said Jackie shouldn't even consider joining them. Jackie smiled to herself. San Francisco had a lot more lesbians in it than she'd ever had cause to notice.
”I don't think so, but thanks. I've just finished my second cup and should head for home.” Jackie stood up.
”Can I ask a stupid question, then?”
”Okay.” Jackie had a feeling she knew what was coming.
”Where's what's-his-name?”
Jackie chewed on her lower lip, then realized she didn't feel self-conscious about it. ”There is no what's-his-name anymore. And I don't think there'll be any more what's-his-names.”
Mary's eyebrows shot up. ”Well! I... I did wonder, you know. When we first met. But then I wonder about most women.” She laughed engagingly.
”I haven't exactly crossed the Rubicon yet, but I'm definitely on the bridge,” Jackie said. ”Ever since I broke up with Parker I feel okay. Happy.”
Mary stared at her intently. She grinned suddenly. ”Let's have dinner again, okay?”
Jackie found herself grinning back, feeling a little lightheaded. ”Yes, I'd like that. Um, well. Let's try again with the work-masks off. Do you still have my number at NDA?”
”Definitely. Well, I'll call you. Tomorrow.”
Jackie picked up her newspaper and said goodbye, then wandered to the bus stop. Uncertain tomorrows stretched ahead of her, but she could meet them with her eyes wide open and only an occasional blink.
Butch nosed the door open as soon as Leah unlocked it. With a bark, she scampered around the ground floor of the house, sniffing the corners and reacquainting herself with the furniture. She leapt up the stairs to the second floor, then barreled back down them to whine at the back door, wanting to go out.
Leah laughed and let her out, then followed Butch into the backyard. She grimaced. Maureen had been right. The yard was overgrown and unkempt, which Sharla would have hated.
Still, a bright row of purple and white crocuses lined the walk and daffodil bulbs were beginning to break the soil behind them. Unthinkable in the mountains.
Butch was busily marking the two trees. She would probably wander down the fence and get in the stickers and then come back wanting to be brushed. Leah sighed with something like contentment. Sharla was gone, but some things-like the doggie love of getting dirty - didn't change.
She went back inside and was glad that it was clean and presentable. She didn't want to spend any time on housekeeping, not with ideas bottled up for the last two years aching to seep out through her fingertips. A new start on New Year's Day.
She hauled in her suitcases and boxes, then unloaded the canvases. One by one she carried them around the back to the studio, feeling immediately comfortable in its orderly confines. She noticed that she had several new neighbors - the neighborhood had become more prosperous-looking since she'd left it two years ago for the seclusion of the cabin. She wrinkled her nose. Suburbia had caught up with her.
Hayward was not a fas.h.i.+onable address, but it was one of the least costly Bay Area places to have a view and enough room for privacy. Her house perched on the edge of a deep canyon filled with pines and eucalyptus. In the summer the air was fresh and clean and fog was something she watched blow into Berkeley, far to the north. In the distance San Francisco sparkled in the bright sunlight, but it couldn't be called a city view - hence the reduced price. As she took note of the BMWs and Volvos that now dotted the driveways she realized that other people had figured it out, too.
The riding school was still in business. Its gates were painted fresh white as always and stood open at the dead end of the block. She paused for a moment and listened. Children were playing somewhere nearby. A horse was being exercised, its hooves making a steady clop-clop rhythm on packed earth. The wisteria rustled in the breeze. A bee buzzed lazily not far from her ear.
What was missing was the sound of Sharla busy in the kitchen or on the phone, pestering gallery owners about forwarding commission payments, booking exhibits, making reservations. She had been a tireless agent and had had good business sense. She had insisted on buying a house as an investment, then gone about having the perfect artist's studio built in the large backyard.
Leah knew why she had dreaded coming back here - this was home. Where she would miss Sharla the most. A place that screamed for two people to fill it. In all her life she had never lived alone until the two years at the cabin. But the cabin was small and it had been easy to fill up the s.p.a.ce.
Butch barked at her from the door of the studio. Lucky for Leah, she seemed to recall she wasn't allowed inside. ”You're not half as dirty as I thought you'd be,” Leah told her. She barked again and disappeared back down the hillside. Well, Butch seemed happy to be home.
She was just unloading the last canvas when a peach and white '57 T-bird cruised to a smooth halt at the curb. Constance's pride and joy, after her art collection.
”You're a welcome sight,” Leah called to her, and she meant it.
Constance was sparkling with good humor. She opened the tiny trunk and produced a picnic basket. ”I knew you wouldn't have had time to stock up on any food, so I stopped for your favorite things.”
”I brought a few things,” Leah said. ”Food for Butch, mostly. She gets really cantankerous when she's hungry.”
”As if you don't!” With a laugh, Constance disappeared into the house. Leah took the last canvas around the back. She heard Constance in the kitchen and discovered her unloading burgers, fries and onion rings from the hamper, along with sodas.
Leah laughed. ”You are a doll, did you know that? I haven't had fast food in ages!”
”Just trying to make myself indispensable.” Constance helped herself to some fries.
They settled at the Shaker-style dining room table, Constance saying, 'I have some fabulous news.”
”Do tell.” Leah unwrapped a burger and bit into it. Delicious. She could feel her arteries going into shock even as she swallowed the first bite.
”Well, good news for you, bad news for Henry Eli. He broke his arm skiing and won't be able to get his show finished for the March opening. So you can have the three weeks, if you want them. You're practically finished with the Painted Moon series, aren't you?”
Leah gulped. ”Yeah... almost. It came together so quickly. I have more metal work to do, but that won't take long. I'm anxious to get on with the next project.”
”When do I get to see it? You've been so secretive.”
”Not yet. It's too different. I don't feel confident about it yet.”
”Okay. I'm dying of curiosity, though.”
Leah ate another onion ring. ”Thanks for bringing this. Thanks... for being here.”
”Any time.” Constance put a hand on Leah's arm. ”I'm here for you in any way you'd like.”
Leah had a hard time swallowing.
”It wasn't so bad, was it, the time we spent at the cabin?”
”It was fabulous.”