All The Wrong Places Part 13

I shrugged. "At least I'm honest about who I like to f.u.c.k."

"Leviticus, perv. Choke on it."

"Is that what you do?"

Roger c.o.c.ked his arm back and I knew if I moved he'd hit me. "Shut your f.u.c.king filthy mouth, Brandy, or I'll shut it for you."

I said nothing, did nothing, just stared.

"Queer," he snapped. With that towering insult, my brother stalked toward the house.

"When you stop hating yourself, call me," I yelled after him. I wanted to tell him all the things he'd said to me. If our mother would go to an early grave because of her d.y.k.e daughter, how would she fare knowing she had a queer son? I knew if I said it he would hit me, but that wasn't what kept my mouth shut. Someday, maybe, he wouldn't hate himself so much, and I couldn't bring myself to do anything that would slow that day's arrival.

I was still standing on the steps when the neighbor, Mrs. Salinski, paused to offer me condolences and an oatmeal-chocolate chip cookie. I accepted both.

It was a nice day. Outside the air was fresh and there was suns.h.i.+ne.

I realized I hadn't worn that stupid hat into church and the world hadn't come to an end.

Mom had never been mean like Dad, but her weapons had been more subtle. I didn't exist for her right now, and maybe I never would. I might check back every five years, just to see if she cared. She had Roger to dote on her, and that's who she wanted. Trying to get anything else from her would just frustrate both of us.

I didn't have to wear the d.a.m.n hat.

And I didn't have to go into the house now. I didn't have to endure anything I didn't choose. I was as free as I chose to be.

One block over I got into my Geo. Pointing it south I thought if I pushed I might be on the other side of D.C. before rush hour got really bad.

Okay, I was wrong about rush hour in D.C. I expected Air Force One to do a flyover or something, traffic was so bad. After a half-hour spent creeping toward the closest off-ramp, I headed into a part of the District I wasn't familiar with. To my relief, I found a crowded diner with a couple of cop cars out front. Though the area of town was dicey, it was probably safe with the uniforms swilling coffee at the counter. I joined them and they never noticed me. n.o.body noticed me except the waitress, who brought me a nice plate of fatty pot roast, real mashed potatoes and vegetables that had been boiled for a couple of hours, then salted.

The milkshake, like the potatoes, was real all the way through. I watched the waitress fill the tall silver tin with whole milk, chocolate ice cream, chocolate syrup and a spoonful of malt. I watched it the whole time it was hooked on the blender. A few minutes later she filled a gla.s.s with half the contents and left the rest of the frosty tin to tempt me.

After my queasiness of the morning it was one of the best meals I'd had in years. The knots in my stomach eased, and the headache edging around my eyes evaporated. I was free and I was starting to believe it.

I wanted to drive all night and get home, home to Tess, as soon as possible." Every minute away felt like I was losing her. Traffic would be against me. My own body, now drooping with reaction from the long drive and high stress, was against me.

My own heart began to argue against itself. Go home to Tess, it said one moment, then the next it was go play all night at Dupont Circle. Find a bar, get laid, really be free. You've spent too much time in your head. Dump it all and go to bed.

But the other part of my heart warned me not to confuse freedom with license to be stupid. I'd done that in college, and I'd regretted it ever since. I wasn't the kind of person who got to go through life lucky and dumb.

I mopped up the last of the pot roast gravy with the last of the biscuit and turned my attention to finis.h.i.+ng the milkshake. My cousin Judy had kids and a station wagon, but she did seem as full of zest as ever. That quick glance at Susan Porkland's withdrawn face, though, hadn't spoken of a happy life. We'd all changed and were changing.

I hadn't worked out in more than forty-eight hours and I could feel lethargy and a growing desire for Goo Goo Cl.u.s.ters and Moon Pies, by the case. I had just gobbled down an entire meal of comfort food and I wanted more. Okay, so I was still angry at my father, and p.i.s.sed off at my brother, and just plain hurt that my mother hadn't wanted any part of me except the Dutiful Daughter. I had shown up, hadn't I? Even knowing what my reception would be like, I'd gotten there in time.

Tess, I thought, would talk me through this. But I didn't want to throw myself on Tess's couch in an impromptu therapy session. I wanted to be on her couch only if she was on me. Remembering the way she had tasted, the way she had moved when I devoured her, left me s.h.i.+vering. I wanted it all: the talk, the laughter and the great s.e.x. All of it, with the same woman.

Traffic was still wretched when I left, though I had dallied as long as I could. Trips down various promising boulevards didn't bring me to any shopping malls where I could kill a few hours. I made my way toward the Potomac, but ultimately, if you want to cross the river you have to use a bridge. The Clara Barton Parkway inched along. The sun was low in the sky before I was on the other side.

Virginia had become a gigantic parking lot. By eight o'clock I was seeing double and ready to scream from the noise in my head and the frustration of stop-and-go traffic. I wanted to pummel something, forget it all, have Tess and stay footloose. I headed toward a cl.u.s.ter of motels. Then I did what any sensible, ready-to-grow-up d.y.k.e would do. I booked a room for the night, and, courtesy of a nearby liquor store, I found my way to the bottom of a bottle of rum.

Chapter Eight.

I didn't remember how I fell asleep. I'll always remember how I woke up, though, which was throwing up everything I'd eaten for the last five years.

I don't recall ever being that sick from alcohol, but then again, I'd never downed a fifth of rum over the course of several hours. The first third of the bottle had turned me into the s.e.x G.o.ddess of all time, and I'd sprawled across the bed in all my naked glory, seducing and satisfying one woman after another, and not always one at a time.

Somewhere in the middle third of the bottle I had solved the national debt, cured h.o.m.ophobia, and had Tess on my lap, promising to be mine.

The problem with my alcohol-induced brilliance was that the last third of the bottle had obliterated it all. I had kept drinking because I could feel every time he'd hit me.

"You were born stupid... you'll never get it... Don't think, you'll just screw it up... You might run fast but you can't catch worth s.h.i.+t... No man will ever want you for more than an hour... You're useless... Tramp... worthless... pervert."

Every memory of his voice played over in my mind and I toasted it, over and over, until the only thing I could say for certain was that I had outlived him. Of course in the morning, whether I'd outlive him for long seemed uncertain.

Wors.h.i.+pping the porcelain G.o.d for several hours did not do my soul a bit of good. It wasn't s.e.xy, it wasn't smart. It wasn't a rite of pa.s.sage, even. Just because I felt misunderstood didn't make me a rock star.

I was a pretty ordinary girl from an unremarkable place. I had an outrageous name, I loved women, and when I asked my legs to run ten miles, they would. Nothing all that rare in me, and I didn't know what I could possibly offer to Tess. What had Celine Griffin seen in me beyond a great time in bed? I wasn't sure there was anything more to me than that.

When I finally checked out, a little after eleven, I got in my warm car and went to sleep, never leaving the motel parking lot.

The dashboard clock was broken, I decided. It had to be. It couldn't be five o'clock and I couldn't still be in Springfield, Virginia, possible home of the Simpsons-that is, if they had Southern accents.

Food was necessary, but I made a wise choice to go to a mall I'd pa.s.sed just off the freeway. Soup and bread went down. After a few anxious moments, it thankfully stayed down.

What had possessed me to drink my way to oblivion? So you're p.i.s.sed at your father, Brandy. Hurt him-that was now impossible. But hurting myself wasn't the next best thing. He won if I lost, and I was d.a.m.ned if I'd give him the satisfaction.

Maybe I was useless as the son he wished he'd had, but I was a woman, and I had use for myself. I touched the envelope of cash in my handbag and felt the warming comfort of knowing my life brushed against others' and we were better for it. I'd not heard anyone at the funeral say, "I'm a better person for Wally Monsoon being in my life."

If I succeeded at nothing else, it would be that. They would carve on my tombstone, "Life wouldn't have been nearly as good without her." It wasn't much of an aspiration but it was achievable. It was more than a great many people, it seemed to me, had ever managed. If I wasn't going to cure cancer or broker world peace, I could do far worse than being a good friend to as many people as possible.

I wanted Tess... she would understand all that I was thinking. She'd help me make even more sense of it. If Tess could understand how I was feeling then I'd know for sure I was figuring things out. Such a mix of anger and resolve and hurt and chagrin and ... hope? Was that hope I felt? About what?

Almost feeling like a human being, I hit the road with every intention of driving nonstop all the way home. But within a few hours my vision was swimming and my temples were throbbing and I had to find another place to sleep. Florence, South Carolina, was a place I'd always wanted to visit, I told myself. Right. It was good-bye Thursday within moments of putting my spinning head onto the pillow.

I usually don't dream that I remember, so when I woke up Friday morning, I wasn't disappointed. My vision still felt like I was tracking slow. Inversions during any kind of stretching were out of the question, but I was going to live.

The nightstand clock said seven a.m. I visualized the map in the car and a slow smile crossed my face. If I left now I'd still make Celine Griffin's show. I'd missed out on Circus Night, my one early morning on the greens, admiring and flirting with d.y.k.es for several days, and-worst of all as my stomach growled-French oatmeal on Friday mornings, with vanilla sugar and dried diced mango.

Okay, so I couldn't do anything that put my head below my heart, but I lost myself in the gentle rhythm of unchallenging yoga. My right thigh told me it didn't want to do forward bends, but I coaxed it, relaxed, and let go.

I was letting go of other things, I could feel that. Sunrise, a new day, a new phase in life. Tonight I was going to see the woman I loved and the thought of that was the best drug I'd ever had. I didn't know if I'd have the courage to muddle my way through explaining all that I wanted. I hoped when I got there that I would know what to do.

Unlike the drive up, I was intensely aware of the landscape outside the car's confines. The rolling green woods gave up flocks of birds to the morning air. A smoky mist lifted from cotton fields nestled in the embrace of hills. The sky lightened with the pa.s.sing hours until the blue was dusted over with tiny white puffs of cloud.

I left the rolling hills of the Carolinas to glide into the slow, easy landscape of Georgia. Nearing the Florida border I picked up some fruit and crackers in a minimarket where I also got gas, then followed the signs to a parking area overlooking a large waterfowl sanctuary.

The overlook didn't seem promising, but a lush, rolling beauty took my breath away. The wetlands were lovely. I wanted Tess to see the flock of glistening gulls, so white against the sky it hurt my eyes.

Was this what it would be like? The rest of my life, wis.h.i.+ng she was there to share so much more than s.e.x with me?

I know she liked me, but could she love me? Or would she be like Susan Porkland, and like the s.e.x but go for a man when it was time to be real about life?

I wasn't going to be able to sleep, to breathe even, until I knew how she felt. I had laughed at people in movies and books who dithered about love and couldn't make a cup of tea because love was so painful and wonderful. So I had to laugh at myself. All I could do right now was point the car south and think about her.

I couldn't even see past the moment when I asked her how she felt. I wouldn't be alive until I had her answer.

I knew I was back in Florida when no music I brought with me was loud enough to compensate for the seemingly unchanging landscape. It was a relief to reach the strip malls of Orlando and drive by the Mickey Ears on 1-4. I would get home by dinner. I'd have one last evening with all those great women, none of whom hated themselves for what they were. Most of whom were busy being grown-up and real. They made their families in their own image, and I wanted to be a lesbian with them. I wanted to feel normal again, what was normal for me.

I was in time to find the raisin nut cake still warm at the buffet. I'd parked the car and come directly to dinner, my stomach a growling knot. My arms and legs were trembling ever so slightly, from all the sitting and vibration, I thought. Several staff members welcomed me back, and I kept my eyes open for Tess.

Smoked salmon was wonderful on a bed of spring greens. The diner meal had been comforting, but this was home. Being away made me appreciate my good fortune to like my work and coworkers, and be in a position to decide if this week's smoked salmon was as good as last week's. I was welcomed at the table where other staffers were dining and a.s.sured everyone I was doing fine, as was my family. Why give them a downer at dinner?

There was no sign of Tess, however, but it was after seven and we always tended to eat earlier in the evening. Perhaps she was dressing up for a date. I did not want to think she was... otherwise occupied.

I was headed for the parking lot and my suitcase when I heard Celine calling my name. We exchanged a firm hug.

"Shouldn't you be sequestered away with preshow jitters or something?"

"Nah, I don't do that, though I will disappear for fifteen minutes or so. How was your trip?" Her yellow-ringed blue eyes searched mine.

"What I expected, mostly. I was there long enough to remember all the reasons I left. So I came back." Our arms were still around each other and I sighed into another embrace. It felt good to be held.

"I didn't think I'd see you again, and that would have been a shame."

"I wanted to see your show," I said, which was the truth. It just wasn't the only reason I had tried to make it back tonight. "I've been a big fan for a really long time."

She squinted one eye shut and gave me a sheepish look. "Don't go all fan on me. It was too real. If you were with me because I'm famous it'll break my heart."

I shook my head. "I was with you because you're s.e.xy, appealing and smart. The second time because you're s.e.xy, appealing, smart and a powerful, wonderful lover."

She cupped my face with a hand I remembered all too well on other parts of my body. Softly, she asked, "What about tonight?"

"I... I'm hoping to spend some time with my best friend."

"The blonde? Tess?"

"Yeah. I hope we can talk about a broader definition of best friend, actually."

"Oh, as in...?" She gazed at me a moment, then said, "Still looking for forever?"

"I don't know if I'll find it. But looking could be a lot of fun."

She pulled me close for a moment. "If you ever go out looking in the wide world again, drop by. It's the d.a.m.nedest thing that as soon as you left I kept thinking we never got a chance to talk about anything, and I think I would have liked that."

I shrugged and rested my head on her shoulder. The sticky night air didn't mask her intriguing cologne. "I think I would have, too. Let's agree to be wistful and say things like, 'We'll always have Florida.' "

She laughed as she let go of me. "Wistful. Yeah, it's how I'll remember you, Brandy Monsoon."

"You should go get ready, I think." I grinned at her as she took several side steps in the direction of her room.

"You're right. See you later, I hope."

"Break a leg," I called lightly.

"Brandy?" She was now on the other side of the reception area walkway. "I'll also remember your great a.s.s."

I laughed and didn't mind that several people obviously overheard. I retrieved my suitcase and rolled it happily to my quarters.

From the moment I unlocked the door I knew something was different. The aroma was different-pine-scented cleanser, very faint. Once I was all the way in I realized I wasn't smelling my laundry pile or the ubiquitous musty mildew aroma of damp corners. Tess had done my laundry and scrubbed down the kitchen. The bed was made and turned down. It even looked like there might be clean sheets.

What a sweet thing to do, I mused. It was so... her.

Leaving my suitcase to be unpacked later, I quickly rinsed off in the shower and reached for the little black dress I saved for special occasions. I added the high-cut lace panties that I hoped Tess would enjoy taking off of me later. That is, if I could convince her to come back to bed with me, if I found the courage to tell her how I felt and if she, well, liked hearing that.

My hair pulled back into a glittering hair tie Tess had given me for Christmas, I slipped into slinky black ballet flats and headed out the door.

Tess wasn't in the dining room or bar, nor did I spot her in the slow-moving crowd heading for the performance. It was chaotic in Village Square, with little people das.h.i.+ng about in face paint. I spotted Bleachie, but Tess wasn't anywhere near, which was a relief. I didn't think Tess would forgo the entertainment, so I slipped my way through the crowd to look inside.

The lights dimmed by half just as I took stock of the room. Tess wasn't immediately in sight, but she had to be there somewhere.

Moika was taking a seat near the back. I got her attention with a hand on her shoulder. "Have you seen Tess?"

"You're back!" She hopped up to hug me. "Yes, she was here a bit ago. Your family is well?"

"As well as can be expected," I answered noncommittally. The lights dropped another half. "Oh, darn it, they're starting."

"Maybe she's backstage," Moika suggested helpfully.

Of course, I thought. I excused myself and hurried along the side wall to the stage door. No way was I going up the center stage stairs in this outfit. Half the audience would see my a.s.s, and I only wanted one woman admiring it tonight.

Maneuvering my way to the wings I caught sight of a tousle of blonde hair. I paused, overcome with shyness. After a minute I managed a few little steps, hoping that Tess would finish what she was doing and turn around.

Randall began his announcements and usual stage patter.

Celine abruptly clattered up the stairs behind me. Before I could say a word, she let out a wolf whistle and pulled me into an embrace. "You could kill with that dress."

I was acutely aware that Tess had to have heard and was probably looking at us now. "You could kill with those jeans," I replied in kind, trying to extricate myself before Tess reached us.

"Thanks, darlin'. I meant what I said about your a.s.s."

Blus.h.i.+ng, I laughed. "Randall is just about to introduce you."

"Be down front for me?" She leaned into me for a smooch on the lips.