Katherine V. Forrest - Lesbian Pulp Fiction

It was taking Leda a long time. What could she say to them? Mitch was numb with torment, and the sheets on her bed were wrinkled and halfway off the mattress from her perpetual turning and moving as she waited. The ticking of the tin clock on the dresser sounded frantic and Mitch made the ticks come in three beats in her mind—Les-bi-an, Les-bi-an, tick-tick-tick. Leda was one too. The thought foamed in Mitch’s brain and hurt her. She did not know why she felt dirty when Leda told her that she was a Lesbian. She thought she should have felt happy and glad that they were two. But she did not want to be one. Abnormal.

From far off she could hear the sweet voices of a fraternity serenading a sorority house down the street.

She turned the light on and looked at the face of the clock. It was eleven-thirty. Leda had been gone too long. She saw Leda’s half-full package of cigarettes on the desk, and she took one from the pack and lit it. It tasted strong and sour and she squashed it in the ash tray and turned the light off again.

Tomorrow, she decided, she would move out of Tri Epsilon and into the dorm with Robin. If she and Leda weren’t put out of the sorority, she would leave anyway. But she could not leave Leda. “I love Leda,” she said softly to the darkness, “even though we’re both that way. I wish she wasn’t that way.”

The dream came in a half fit of consciousness. Her mother was very beautiful, with black hair that came to her shoulders, and clear green eyes. Mitch loved her. She wore pants and shirts and combed her hair back, wet from her swim, and went to her mother with jewels and furs that she had stolen for her to have. Her mother smiled and accepted them. Mitch heard her say, “You’d better not steal all the time. I couldn’t love a thief.” She ran down a long alley to escape the police who were looking for her. It was late when she got back to the Tri Epsilon house and her mother was there with the police holding her arm. Her mother was laughing. She said, “You didn’t know I was a thief too,” and the policemen led her away. Diamonds were spilling out of her mother’s pocket as she went down the steps with them.

She thought she had been asleep for hours, but it was only twenty minutes to twelve. Leda must be in trouble. The dream put a ragged edge on her anxiety. The bed was a sight, rumpled and torn apart as though it had been ravaged. Mitch straightened the sheets and fluffed the pillow. In the corner of the room by the bureau her clothes lay where Leda had taken them off, kicked to the side. Mitch picked them up and brushed them off.

Les-bi-an, Les-bi-an, tick-bi-an …

Mitch thought, I can get a job. Leda and I can run away and I can work someplace. If they put us out of the sorority I won’t go home. Leda won’t either, because of Jan. Colorado is nice, or California. She had a vivid picture of the open convertible speeding through purple and rust landscapes and along white desert with the cactus along the roadside. She added glorious black nights and ten thousand brilliant stars, and a warm wind whipping at their faces. It was no good. She hated the picture. Why? A slow self-disgust chewed at her and called her coward, but she was still afraid. She promised herself to be strong when Leda came back, no matter. Whatever Leda said, Mitch would not reveal her fear. Leda loved her and this was the price. Be strong for two. The words on the storybook she’d had as a child came dancing on the scene of her mind: “Now We Are Two.”

Part of it was the way Leda acted when she had said “No, faster! Faster, Mitch!” It seemed far away and morbid, as though there was an insane spark to their love that made them fierce and careless. Sitting on the side of her bed, under the harsh light of the electric bulb overhead, Mitch could not know herself in that scene. She reasoned that she was not violent. Never violent. Yet there was still the faint taste of blood on her tongue, and the way she knew she had been strong there with Leda.

Don’t blame Leda. You’re trying to blame Leda.

There was a sound of steps in the hall. Mitch caught her breath when they came to the door. It was Leda returning.

“What are you doing with the light on?”

“I had to find out the time.”

“I told you not to leave it on. I told you to go to bed.”

“I just turned it on. I was afraid.”

“Well, it’s over, so go to bed.”

“Over?”

“Yes. It’s all right.”

“Wh-what did you say? How did you explain it?”

Leda’s face was composed and placid. She took her soap from the tray on the rack behind the door. Her washcloth hung over the bar above the shoe bag and she put that with the soap. “I’m going to wash my face. I’ll tell you when I get back. Look, it’s over. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Mitch just sat there staring.

“Get in bed. I’ll be back.”

“I’ll come too,” Mitch said. “I didn’t wash yet. Wait for me and I’ll come too.” She started toward the bureau.

“No!” Leda’s tone came out sharper than she had meant it. She could not look at Mitch’s face, which was alive with a new hope. Her words went to the rug. “No, it’s better if you stay in bed. I told them you didn’t feel well. You see, that’s how I explained it. I said you were sick.”

“Oh,” Mitch said. “I—” She sat back on the bed and rubbed her forehead.

Leda walked toward the door. “Look, just get in bed. I’ll be back in a minute. I’ll tell you then.”

“OK, Leda.”

Before Leda turned the doorknob, Mitch’s eyes met hers.

“Leda?”

“What?”

“Thanks.”

When she was gone, Mitch felt sick and dull all over. She was ashamed of the way she had thought about Leda. The thoughts seemed to tease her still, pricking her knowledge that Leda had made everything all right, that now there would be no reason to run and hide. Steadily she rebuilt the structure of their love, amplifying it with Leda’s courage and with her own indebtedness to Leda. She could feel the physical ache for her down to the tips of her fingers, replacing the enfeebled numbness, charging it with renewed vigor. Healing time had conquered the doubt and fear, and her servility was sworn in that moment. Mitch felt humble and brave in the darkness of the room.

A tongue of light cut through the black as Leda opened the door and slipped back in. Mitch could hear her putting things away and getting out of her clothes. The thud of her shoes on the floor sounded unusually heavy in the silence. Mitch threw the sheets and blankets back and went over to her.

“For God’s sake, no! We just got out of one mess.”

“I’m sorry, Leda. I just feel so—”

“Get back in bed. My God!”

The covers felt itchy on her chin and she pulled the sheet up higher. She could hear Leda getting in bed.

“I know you’re upset,” she said. “I should have known better than to come over to you, Leda. I’m sorry.”

“Forget it.”

Mitch waited. Leda would tell her now—everything that had happened. The minutes crept and the clock began the game, ticking out the word.

“Leda?”

“What?”

“You said you’d tell me.” Mitch’s voice was thin and meek. She didn’t mean to keep at Leda like that, but she had to know.

“OK. I said you were sick. I said you went to bed sick and you were feverish when you came after me.”

“D-did you say that I came after you ?”

“Well, hell, I had to say something! When they came in the door, that’s what they saw.”

“Oh.”

The wind blew papers off the desk and they ruffled along the floor, the noise quick and airy.

“Leave them,” Leda said. She settled back and the noise stopped.

“Well, did they believe you? What about—My God, I was naked!”