Once Upon A Dyke Part 2

"What it seems like to me," Al said, "is that it's obvious why all of us are here except for you, Rosie."

"That's true," Wilma said. "The normal people who have joined up with us in the past have mostly been on the run... from the law or a bad situation at home. But here you are, a pretty girl with good manners from a nice family, choosing to spend your time with the likes of us."

Rosie knew that there was an implied "why?" at the end of Wilma's speech, and she was expected to answer it just as much as if it had been said out loud.

But what could she say? True, she was "on the run" in a sense- on the run from a man she didn't want to marry. But there was more to it than that, wasn't there? As meek as John was, she could have just politely declined his proposal, and while he would have been hurt, he would have been nothing but polite right back to her. Was her decision to join the show really about running away from John, or was it about running toward something else?

All she knew was that even though she grew up surrounded by people who loved her, whom she loved back, she had always felt different. Not the kind of different that everybody notices immediately, like Josephine's beard, but an on-the-inside difference that only she noticed. Inside her there had always been a longing, a longing made no less intense by the fact that she didn't know exactly what she was longing for. She just knew that the obvious path-husband, home, and children-that seemed to satisfy all the other girls would not be enough for her.

But what would be enough? Rosie still didn't know, but she did know that in the past few days, living on the road, being a part of the show, and becoming fast friends with Josephine, she felt closer to happiness than she had ever been before.

Chapter 4.

The bathtub conversations continued, and Rosie found that she looked forward to them more and more. After a long, hot day of selling tickets, getting knives thrown at her, and joining the other show folk in making fun of the marks or rubes, as they called the audience members (Rosie quickly discovered that whatever nasty comments the audience members made about the so-called "freaks," it was nothing compared to what the freaks had to say about them), Rosie looked forward to slipping into a warm tub and a long conversation with Josephine.

Rosie didn't quite know what it was that made her and Josephine's conversations so special. Maybe it was because Josephine treated her as an equal, as someone whose thoughts and opinions were of value. And Rosie valued Josephine's opinions, too. John had commented on Rosie's good looks a thousand times, but his flowery compliments never touched her as deeply as a simple "you look nice" from Josephine.

Rosie's bath time conversations with Josephine were her favorite part of the day. Until one night after several weeks of these talks, when things took a strange turn.

Rosie had finished her long soak and had washed her hair with the sweet floral shampoo Josephine always kept around. Rosie had gotten out of the tub and was toweling off when she lost her balance and upset the Oriental screen that separated her from Josephine. For a few seconds, Rosie stood naked before Josephine, the droplets from her wet, fragrant hair sparkling on her white shoulders and b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

Now Rosie's time was before our current "salad days" in which girls think they should only nibble the occasional lettuce leaf so they can show off the skeletons beneath their skin. Girls in Rosie's day ate three square meals a day and wore their curves with pride (and Rosie's curves were definitely something to be proud of).

Rosie stood before Josephine smiling, then laughing, not out of embarra.s.sment at her nudity but in amus.e.m.e.nt at her clumsiness, until Josephine sprang from her chair, turned her back on Rosie and barked, "Put something on, will you?"

Rosie was shocked and puzzled. "I... I was going to." She reached for her dressing gown. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to embarra.s.s you. Of course, it seems like if anybody should be embarra.s.sed it should be me." She tied her dressing gown. "You can turn around now."

Josephine turned around but didn't look Rosie in the eye. "Rosie, perhaps it would be better if, from now on, I left the tent while you bathed."

Rosie's heart deflated. It was not just the pleasure of the baths she came for, but the pleasure of Josephine's company. "But why? There's no shame in women seeing each other with no clothes on. Especially as close as we are. Why, in the past couple of months, you've become like a sister to me."

"A sister?" Josephine laughed, but somehow there was no humor in it. "Rosie, I'm tired. I think I'll go to bed early. Good night." She turned her back and waited for Rosie to leave.

Over the next two days Rosie stayed away from Josephine's quarters. They saw each other in the show, but they didn't speak except about business matters. At night, Rosie washed off the sweat and sawdust with icy water from a bucket, the coldness stinging her skin like Josephine's coldness had stung her heart.

On the third day, she couldn't take it anymore. She had to find out what had upset Josephine so much.

That night she called "Josephine!" once outside the tent door and entered before Josephine could try to send her away. Josephine looked up from her knitting, her expression shuttered.

"I have to know," Rosie said. "I have to know what I did to make you turn away from me."

"You did nothing," Josephine said. "It's because of me that our friends.h.i.+p cannot continue."

"But that makes no sense! Everything was fine until I knocked down the screen."

"Yes," Josephine said. "You knocked down the screen, through no fault of your own, and let me see what I want so desperately but cannot have."

Confused, Rosie thought that Josephine was saying that Rosie's smooth, feminine form had made Josephine wish that she herself could look like a normal woman. "But you shouldn't feel that way at all!" Rosie said. "You should never wish to look like other women. Why, girls like me are a dime a dozen, but you... you're extraordinary. And... lovely. I thought so the second I saw you in that green silk dress."

Josephine smiled sadly. "You're very kind, but you misunderstand me." She sighed and nervously twisted the pearl ring she wore on her left hand. "Rosie, I'm going to tell you something that may very well make you run screaming from this tent. But even if you do, at least you won't spend the rest of your life wondering why I sent you away." She paused, searching for words. "My beard isn't the only thing that makes me different from other women."

Rosie knew this was true. Josephine was different from any other woman she'd ever met-more independent and more intelligent. But she sensed it was Josephine's turn to talk and said nothing.

"Do you remember when I told you about my parents selling me to Samuel Perkins when I was thirteen?"

"Of course."

"Well, there was an incident leading up to that event which I neglected to tell you about. A few days before, my mother had caught me in the woods with a girl who lived on the neighboring farm. When Mother saw us, we were... kissing."

Rosie didn't understand. "Kissing like sisters?"

"No. Kissing like sweethearts."

Rosie couldn't decide what surprised her more-the fact that two girls could kiss like sweethearts, or the fact that this possibility had never crossed her mind before. She would never have thought it could happen, and yet why couldn't it? Girls had lips, didn't they? Lips that were softer than boys'. Rosie felt a little leap in her stomach like she felt the first time she saw the bright lights of a carnival. "Oh," she said.

"My mother took what she saw as a sign of how cursed I was. The beard, the unnatural feelings toward girls, even the fact that the cow had stopped giving milk-these were all signs of my cursedness. So she decided to get rid of me." Josephine shrugged.

"Oh, Josephine," Rosie sighed. "Such cruelty."

"Of course, as it turned out, selling me to Pop was good for me in that respect, too. Pop preferred the company of men-well, of one man in particular. He and Mario, the carnival's strong man, had been together for ten years before I even joined the show. So the fact that I cared only for girls was fine with Pop. He wished me the same kind of happiness that he and Mario enjoyed. The only problem was that few girls cared for me. There are few enough girls in the world who prefer female companions.h.i.+p, and those who do want women of their own smooth-skinned kind, not women who look like me. So in a way, my mother saying that I was cursed such that I would never know real love has come true."

Josephine paused and looked at Rosie. "But in another way it hasn't. I know you, and I love you, even though I know you can never love me." A tear formed in Josephine's eye, then slid down her cheek and disappeared into her beard. "When I saw you the other night, standing before me like Aphrodite rising from the foam, it was more than I could bear. I had to turn away. Now you know why."

Rosie didn't run away, as Josephine had thought she would. Indeed, her feet seemed glued to the spot. "You... you love me?"

"Yes."

"Like a sweetheart?"

"Yes."

Rosie didn't know exactly why she started crying. Was it her reaction to Josephine's bravery in confessing her feelings? Was it because she was touched or just because she was so overwhelmed she didn't know what else to do? "I... I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. I'm just happy you haven't run away yet."

"I don't want to run away. I want to... understand. Explain it to me."

Josephine wiped away a tear. "Words can't explain it." Then, perhaps figuring that the worst that could happen was Rosie slapping her face and running away, she took a step closer, reached up, and pa.s.sed her fingers over Rosie's thick auburn hair. When Rosie didn't jerk away, Josephine leaned in close and pressed her lips to Rosie's.

Rosie closed her eyes and let herself be kissed. Josephine's lips were fall and relaxed, very different from John's thin, tight ones, and Josephine's beard was not at all wiry and scratchy (as Rosie could remember her grandfather's beard being), but as silky and soft as the hair on Josephine's head. Through her lips, Rosie felt the power of Josephine's love-not the safe, comfortable love that men and women settled for when they followed their parents' and society's wishes and took their vows before church and state.

No, this love was something else entirely-a love that had nothing to do with the wishes of anyone but the lover, a love so powerful that it trampled over the rules of mothers and fathers and polite society in order to make itself known, a love that bloomed in a world different from the world where Rosie had always lived. The sheer force of this love nearly made Rosie swoon, even though she wasn't the swooning type.

When Josephine broke away, Rosie was as dizzy as a child who has ridden the carousel one too many times. Her senses were overwhelmed. "I... I have to go" was all she could say.

"Of course you do," Josephine said with a knowing sadness, sitting back down to her knitting.

All the show folks looked forward to playing the bigger towns. In the little burgs where they most often performed, they slept in tents, washed as best they could, and lived on sandwiches and pots of beans they cooked over the campfire. But in the bigger towns like Richmond and Raleigh and Louisville, there was usually a hotel or boarding house that welcomed show people. The proprietors of these places didn't care if their customers had three legs or two heads or scales instead of skin, as long as they paid in cash. With their pockets nicely lined, they were happy to provide any a.s.sortment of people with a hot meal and a real bed and bath.

The night after Rosie and Josephine's kiss was the group's first night in Raleigh and Rosie's first night in a real hotel. When she went up the narrow stairs to the room she was a.s.signed, she was surprised to see Josephine already there.

"After you left last night, I figured I would be having this room to myself," Josephine said.

"You thought I was leaving?"

"You said you had to go."

"I didn't go far. I just went to my tent."

Josephine let herself smile a little. "Well, I want to make clear to you that you have nothing to fear by sharing a room with me tonight. It's a matter of economy, really. It's too expensive for everybody to get a room alone. Billy does because a person of both s.e.xes demands some privacy, but everybody else always bunks down together. Al and Tom share a room, and Stanley and Wilma."

"Stanley and Wilma share a room?"

"Yes. The two of them have been together for over a year now. I always register them in hotels as husband and wife. They would be husband and wife, too, if the husband Wilma left would go ahead and give her a divorce. He's just holding out on her to be mean. I've got half a mind to offer to pay him to divorce her, so she and Stanley can tie the knot, and I can bill them as World's Strangest Married Couple. Married acts really bring in the crowds."

"I had no idea about the two of them," Rosie said. "Does everybody else know?"

"Yes. In normal circles, it would cause quite a scandal that Wilma is still married. But we don't judge each other." Josephine looked away for a second, then said, "The reason I told you this has nothing to do with Wilma and Stanley. I just wanted you to know that you're rooming with me because it was the only choice, not because I was trying to be alone with you."

"I understand."

"Good. And I understand what it meant when you walked out of my tent last night. I'm just glad my little display didn't drive you from the show entirely."

"What did it mean?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You said you understood what it meant when I walked out of your tent last night," Rosie said. "I was hoping you could explain to me what it meant because I'm not so sure I understand myself."

"Well... my understanding was that it meant you did not return my feelings."

"Hm," Rosie considered for a moment. "Maybe it meant that at that moment I was having too many feelings-more than I could possibly make sense of."

Now it was Josephine's turn to say "Hm."

Rosie sat down on the floor near Josephine's feet and looked up at her. "Josephine, you're not anything like who I ever imagined myself loving, but all my imaginary loves were heroes in books. All I know is that I spend my days looking forward to being alone with you. I don't know if it's love or friends.h.i.+p or sisterhood I feel for you, but I do know I feel more for you than I ever did for John."

"John?"

"The man who proposed to me the night I joined the carnival."

Josephine laughed. "That's one way to turn down a proposal." But then her smile faded. "Rosie, I want you to understand the seriousness of what you would be doing if you chose to... to become closer to me. By being with me, by staying here in the carnival, you would be leaving behind all that the world says is normal and natural. We would create our own life together, but it would be a life that would make no sense to anyone except us and our family of show-folk." Before Rosie could say a word, Josephine rushed on, as though if she didn't say everything in her heart right then she wouldn't have another chance.

"That's what I want, Rosie, a whole life with you. I know that many before me have been drawn to your great beauty, and heaven knows, I am, too. But even more than that, I find myself drawn to your inner light... a light that brightens the darkness that has surrounded me my whole life. Mine is not an easy path, Rosie, as you will see if you join me on it. And a woman with your beauty can always choose an easy life. But to choose me you have to take more than a vacation from the life in which you grew up. You have to leave it forever. It is a lot to ask-perhaps too much-and if you can't give it, don't toy with me. It would be better for you to go back to whatever little town I found you in and say 'yes' to your would-be fiancee."

Rosie thought of her life back home and all those evenings spent with John when she would rather have been at home with a good book. How was it, she wondered, that she had found so much more happiness in one month with Josephine than she had in two years with John? But when her thoughts turned to her father, she felt a twinge. Leaving John behind was easy-she had already done it. Thinking of her father sitting down to a lonely cold supper every night, though, caused her real pain. Still, hadn't he always told her to get on with her life, to find happiness?

Finally, Rosie gathered her thoughts enough to speak, wondering if she could even hear herself over the pounding of her heart. "Josephine, the world I've found here with you is the only place where I've ever felt like I belong. And the days that we didn't speak to each other were the saddest days I've spent since my mother died. So, if I can still visit my family occasionally, I am prepared to say no to the rest of the world if it means saying yes to you."

Josephine gathered Rosie in her arms, kissing her hair and whispering her name, her voice choked with tears. Soon their lips touched. A few short kisses melted into a long one with parted lips and slippery tongues. When they pulled apart, Rosie panted, "I don't remember the last time I was so out of breath."

Josephine smiled. "Did kissing what's-his-name do that to you?"

Rosie laughed. "The only time John made me out of breath was when I ran away from him after he proposed to me."

"Come to think of it, you did look a little winded the first time I saw you." Josephine reached up and stroked Rosie's cheek.

Rosie started to speak, but the dewy look in Josephine's eyes said that the conversation was over. Rosie's excitement was sharpened by a flutter of fear. "Josephine," she whispered, casting a nervous glance at the iron-framed double bed, "I need to tell you that I've never..." How could she say it? "I mean, not with a man or a woman either ... I know a little about it with men from books, of course, but with you ... I don't know what to do."

"Well," said Josephine, her arms encircling Rosie's waist, "I will be more than happy to teach you." She kissed Rosie's cheek, then left a trail of kisses down her neck. "I think you'll be a very good student."

Rosie felt a tremble of antic.i.p.ation as Josephine took her hand and led her to the bed. The fact that she wasn't even sure what she was antic.i.p.ating made it even more exciting. Standing by the bed, Josephine unb.u.t.toned Rosie's dress and let it fall to the floor, so Rosie stood before her in her white lace chemise and bloomers. Josephine motioned for Rosie to sit on the edge of the bed, then knelt on the floor at her feet, where she slipped off Rosie's shoes and rolled her stockings down each leg, kissing her from knee to toe.

"So beautiful," Josephine whispered as she pushed Rosie back on the bed and moved down to kiss the hollow of her throat and the plane of her collarbone. She loosened Rosie's chemise and kissed her white, freckle-dusted shoulders.

Rosie lay back, savoring each kiss, but was suddenly struck by self-consciousness. Freckles were far from the fas.h.i.+on of the day, and Rosie's sister had always offered Rosie salves and advice in hopes of getting rid of them. "Sorry about the freckles," Rosie muttered.

"They're beautiful," Josephine breathed. "Like little stars."

Soon Rosie's chemise was on the floor with her dress, and Josephine was kissing down from her collarbone to her full, white b.r.e.a.s.t.s. How strange and yet how lovely it was for Rosie to feel Josephine's hands stroking places that Rosie had only touched perfunctorily while bathing-to feel Josephine's lips where no one's lips had been before. It was as if these places on Rosie's body had been incapable of sensation before Josephine's lips touched them, and now each kiss woke them up to pleasure. Rosie gasped and sighed, amazed by both Josephine's kisses and her body's response to them, and reached down to stroke Josephine's l.u.s.trous black hair.

When Josephine's fingertips touched the waistband of Rosie's underwear, she asked, "May I?"

"Yes," Rosie whispered, not wholly sure of what she was saying yes to, but still confident that "yes" was the right answer.

Josephine slipped off Rosie's underwear and slowly stroked Rosie's thighs and belly until Rosie moaned in a mixture of delight and frustration. When Josephine finally stopped to stroke the soft auburn hair between Rosie's legs, she said, "You see, all ladies have beards; they just don't display them most of the time."

Rosie didn't laugh for long because she was too distracted by the blissful sensation of Josephine stroking her softly with her fingertips and then bending down between her thighs and planting soft kisses there. "Can... can we do this?" Rosie gasped, for such an act had never occurred to her.

"We," Josephine said, pausing to plant a light kiss on each of Rosie's inner thighs, "can do anything we like."

Josephine's wandering mouth soon found a spot that most girls today are thankfully familiar with but which until that moment, Rosie hadn't even known existed. She cried out as Josephine's tongue touched it and felt herself melting into the bed as Josephine continued to caress it rhythmically, each stroke liquid fire, making Rosie soften and burn white-hot like metal in a blacksmith's forge. To Rosie, the world had shrunk to the size of her and Josephine and the bed and the pleasurable flames she was sure were surrounding them. And then that tiny world exploded, and Rosie shook and cried out, "Josephine!" It was amazing that she could say Josephine's name at that moment since she could scarcely remember her own.

When Josephine slid up the sheets to lie beside her, she murmured, "You can let go of the headboard now."

Until Josephine mentioned it, Rosie hadn't noticed that she had been holding onto the headboard so hard that her knuckles had turned white. Still too short of breath to talk, she released her grip and snuggled into Josephine's soft beard and bosom. When she could finally speak, she said, "How... how did you know ... how to do that?"

Josephine kissed her forehead. "I don't know. I suppose I've always known what I wanted."

Rosie smiled and snuggled closer. "Funny, isn't it, how you've always known what you wanted, and I didn't learn what I wanted until just now."