Please change the subject.
Janice shrugged and again hid behind the mask of a smile. “Just doing what I can to help.”
She chose another book, her nerves on edge. She’d gone out to run errands to try to clear her mind of Carla, and the bookstore, one of her favorite places, was the last place she’d expected to have trouble in doing so.
“How are you?” She decided to change the subject herself.
“Oh, I can’t complain. My mind is sharp, and my body is functioning. That’s a good day to me.” She fingered the imitation pearl earrings Janice often saw her wear. They went well with her perfectly set, snowy white hair, as well as her name. Her blouse, a pale pink with shiny buttons and ruffled collar, was perfectly pressed.
“I’m glad to hear it,” Janice said.
“You know, you are a good woman, Janice. Polite, kind, professional. Always willing to lend a hand. I can’t say I’m surprised at you’re letting Carla stay at your home, but in a way, I am.”
Janice glanced up quickly.
“Why is that?”
She won’t say it. She wouldn’t. I’ve known this woman for years.
But Janice’s face was already burning in anticipation.
Pearl dropped her gaze and began tidying the already neat countertop. “Because she’s, well, you know, a homosexual.”
She said it. She actually said it.
Janice squeezed the book in her hand so tight she could feel it marking her skin. She’d heard people in her community state their opinions about the subject throughout the years, some of them even her own relatives. She’d disagreed and spoken up a few times only to be verbally attacked and ganged up on. So, she was aware of how people felt, and she’d chosen to no longer confront anyone on the matter. The last time she had, she recalled, had been years ago. Right after college.
The recent discoveries she’d made about herself had, of course, brought people’s disapproval to mind. It caused her a lot of worry when she thought about it. So much so that she’d eventually just refused to deal with it. The second it crossed her mind, she forced it away. And she’d justified that with the excuse that she wasn’t out. No one knew of her attraction to women. So, she’d told herself it wasn’t an issue.
Pearl began reorganizing the display of bookmarks. She must’ve taken Janice’s silence as an invitation to continue.
“I just don’t know if I’d be comfortable with that if I was you. A single woman living alone and all.”
“Why, you think she might hit on me or something?” The words were out before she could stop them. An instant fury began to brew inside. It seemed to grow stronger by the second and she wondered if she’d be able to contain it.
Pearl glanced at her. “Well, yes. That would be something I’d be worried about.”
“I think it’s safe to say that Carla hitting on you wouldn’t be something you needed to worry about.”
“I don’t know what people like her think. I’m single and I’m a woman. That may mean I’m a target. Or it may not.” The subtle insult had gone over her head, which Janice found disappointing. She’d wanted it to sting. “But if I were you, I’d be concerned.”
Janice lowered the book and inhaled deeply through her nose.
Is this what Carla deals with?
Is this what I would have to deal with?
Judged by a woman I’ve known for years? A woman who was good friends with my mother?
She considered, in a hasty, frenzied moment, to readily admit that she wanted Carla to hit on her. Just to see the look on her face.
“Well, I guess that’s you then, Ms. Pine. I don’t have a problem with Carla’s sexuality. She’s a wonderful person and I love her. Who she’s attracted to and chooses to be in romantic relationships with isn’t any concern of mine. Nor should it be yours. Especially since Carla doesn’t concern herself with who you share your bed with.”
Her face burned hotter. She absolutely concerned herself with Carla’s romantic life. It was all she thought about. But it certainly wasn’t because she disapproved. Pearl, however, didn’t know, and though she wanted to stand tall and declare her feelings for Carla to her face, she kept control and remained poised.
“I’m a little surprised to hear this from you, Ms. Pine. Seeing as how long you’ve known Carla. I never would’ve pegged you for someone who judged people and held such prejudice. And I never would’ve imagined you unjustly snickering about someone to others, trying to spread fear and invoke judgment in them. But I guess I was wrong.” She left the book at the table, her inner fury so close to exploding she was shaking. The bookstore was no longer her favorite place. It didn’t matter how long she’d been going there or how good those worn pages smelled. To her, the bookstore had just fallen off the face of the earth.
She headed for the door.
“I do like Carla, Janice. I’m not saying—I—” Pearl couldn’t seem to recover from her own statements. She’d boxed herself in.
Janice pushed open the door, causing the bells to clamor louder than before, announcing her dramatic exit. She turned back to Pearl, compelled to say one last thing.
“We’re all human, Ms. Pine. And I know you’re trying to defend yourself because you don’t like being accused of being judgmental and prejudice and well, just an all-around shitty person. You’re probably thinking how my thinking that about you is unfair. That I don’t really know what’s in your heart. Well, I want you to consider that Carla probably feels just like you do right now when people judge her. It’s not a good feeling is it?”
She stepped out into the muggy air, leaving Pearl behind the counter with her mouth hanging open. She hurried down the sidewalk, feeling physically ill. Pearl had verbally slapped her in the face, insulting both her and Carla, and the anger it had provoked was to be expected. The fear that came along with it, was not. She fumbled in her purse for her keys. She cursed as she walked and continued to dig, wanting to get the hell out of this town. Her distraction caused her to slam into someone just as she pulled out her keys, sending them and nearly herself flying through the air.
“Oh, God I’m sorry,” a deep voice said.
“No, it’s—” Janice looked up, the voice registering. Her ex-husband, Chuck, stared down at her.
“Janice.”
“Hi.”
He knelt and quickly scooped up her keys. He placed them in her palm.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t see you, and—” He fell silent. A merciful breeze played with his hair, which, she noted, needed to be trimmed. She studied his face, once so familiar, now seeming foreign. He still had the deep-set eyes, more of a milk chocolate color as opposed to the dark chocolate color of his hair. His nose was still long and straight, his jaw strong. His thin lips were creased with a kind smile. But none of it felt known. She’d had to reexamine it all to recall it.
He appeared to be taking her in as well, standing before her with his hands in his khaki shorts. His collared Polo shirt, which had always been his preference when it came to casual attire, was a light green in color and, along with his leather loafers, helped him achieve a relaxed but very presentable summer ensemble.
“You look amazing,” he said.