Dancing. Tenille heaved a desolate sigh. Would she ever dance again? She pushed the sheet away from her. She wanted to go back to dance classes, respond to the heady beat of Flamenco music. She'd stopped listening to it in these past weeks. To be a part of that world again, could she? And what of Devon? She really would like to see her. They would be back now. She made a mental note to call her, give her the new address and phone number. Another thought. Could Devon and Sidonie be friends? Anxiety was suddenly sharpened. Perhaps it wasn't so easy to blend the straight and gay worlds. Okay if you weren't out, but then that would be like a masquerade. False pretences. It would be like playing games. Light dawned. This could be exactly what many Lesbians and Gays did. Only the strong ones proclaimed their sexual preference to the world. They put themselves up for derision and ridicule; hate even. She couldn't do that, not being resolute enough, and felt ashamed of her weakness. Would she ever find the resilience needed to stand up and be counted? Taking the pressure off the left heel, she turned on her side, at the same time as she turned her head around to face some new realities.
“Sidonie, you are one of the strong ones,”
flashed into her mind.
“You go about the world bold and honest. You don't hide what you are, people take you as they
see
you. Have you had bad times my darling?”
she wondered. Gay bashing happens to women as well as men. Could she ever get her to talk about this stuff?
Sleep eluded her tonight, not because of her body this time, but an overactive mind that would give her no peace. She took a prescription tablet. Back in bed she let her body sink into the softness of the mattress, closing her eyes, trying some slow breathing. Another revelation. Friends. Friends become even more important in the gay world. They are the support family: solidarity with kindred spirits must make all the difference to one's quality of life. A counselling centre could fulfil a vital need in the Community.
âIf they'll have me I'll do what they ask,' she resolved solemnly. It's not right that Society can make people suffer just because they love someone of whom they disapprove. For the most part we don't even contribute to the population explosion. People should be grateful. She began to feel an indignation rising within her, but she knew she was not yet ready to come out of the closet. Not at work, not at dancing. She still needed the protection of stronger Lesbians. Those who could get a gay bar up and running; organize sports teams and such like. She couldn't stand alone in her lesbianism. How she let the others down.
The pill was beginning to work at last. She could feel a heavy weight taking over her body. Then, just before sleep finally took all her thoughts away, she remembered that she had stood up to her mother. At least there she had passed the test.
“And 1ook where that's gotten you,”
she considered ruefully:
“No family at all.”
*Â Â *Â Â *
When Sidonie saw Tenille again she had been refreshed by sleep. The introspection of the night before had passed into the nether regions of her consciousness. She wore practical shorts today, light cream with a pale, olive green sleeveless top. The colors set off her honey skin and Sidonie saw how she glowed. Her wealth of shining hair was tied back in a cream scrunchie and to Sidonie she looked as gorgeous as ever, no matter how little trouble she took on her appearance, the inner beauty always shone through ⦠and those breasts ⦠They became more desirable by the day.
“Sid,”
she scolded herself as she reluctantly dragged her eyes away:
“You said you wouldn't let your thoughts, or eyes wander like that and look at you, not together five minutes and you're at it.”
She gave herself a mental shake.
The day was a scorcher; the pollution index sky high. On a day like today the elderly and those with respiratory problems would be stuck indoors. Restrictions on garden watering had been in effect for three days already and the grass was so brown, it looked dead. This afternoon Sidonie had on a little cloth fishing hat; old and battered.
âDo you fish,' Tenille asked, eyeing the headgear askance, as they drove along to the hospital.
âNo Honey. I don't approve of fishing,' Sidonie replied, as she negotiated round a temporarily, double parked, Black Diamond cab. They seemed to feel free to pull up just where and when they pleased, she grumbled. âI'm on the side of the fish.' She honked her horn at a parked car, hoping to sneak out. She couldn't accommodate it, there was too much traffic behind.
âThis sort of hat suits me better than a broad-brimmed sun hat. Yours looks good on you.' Tenille's hat sat in her lap; the one that was all brim and no crown.
âMy other hat's the soft ball one, but I didn't think you'd like to go shopping with me in that.' Her laughter was bright and delighted.
âSo you don't approve of fishing.' Tenille returned to the topic. âMy dad fishes. He loves it.' She got a faraway look in her eyes. âHe can spend hours up in the Kawartha's. He likes the time alone, just himself and nature.' She had never thought of it from the fish's point of view. The sport had been all around her as she was growing up and she saw it only in terms of people's recreation. Commercial fishing she never thought about at all.
âWell â¦' Sidonie began, â â¦if you think of it, it's like hunting, isn't it? You have the fish, there's the sport of hooking it, but in the end the fish loses its life.'
âIt may get away, or be thrown back.'
âAh yes, the one that got away. Lucky fish. But what of all the others? People no longer fish for survival like the Inuit or the North and South American Indians. The big fishing trawlers scour the seas with their huge dragnets. The fish haven't got a hope.' The choler in her voice was unmistakable. âOf course, it's a free country,' she conceded: âBut I'm not about to join that club.' She was inflexible.
âYou do eat fish, though?' Tenille pursued.
âI do,' she confessed, âand meat too.'
âHave you ever thought to give up being omnivorous, if you feel this way?'
âNo, I haven't, but now that you raise the possibility, I wonder if vegetarianism isn't the way to go. What about you? How do you feel about eating meat?' She was intrigued at the turn this conversation had taken.
âI have thought about it, but I've never done anything positive with my conclusions. I don't know enough about dietary supplements and such like, so I've not taken that extra step. Put my principles into practise.' She turned towards Sidonie as she warmed to her theme, her face radiant in its animation. âI don't like the slaughtering of animals ⦠I'm not keen on the idea of animals being raised just to end up on our plates.'
Sidonie was happy she had this degree of sensitivity toward the animal kingdom. She herself had decided on a career as a Veterinarian because she loved animals, domesticated or wild. She loved their innocence, their guilelessness and the honesty of their feelings. She believed all animals had developed on the earth to share its resources, as befitted their niche. Mankind did not have dominion over them, as the bible claimed. Tenille was speaking again.
âI've been lazy, I guess,' she let out honestly. âBut you know, Sid, if you wanted to become vegetarian, I would too. I just need someone to get me going.' She reached out to her hand as it held the wheel. âI believe you could be just that person.' There was a bright, unmistakable twinkle in her eye.
âWhat, get you going?' she responded. âI'll do that all right. Now woman, I've got to concentrate so stop distracting me.' She gave her hand a brief squeeze. Just to show she'd not be intimidated, Tenille moved her hand and deliberately placed it on her bare thigh, fingertips curling against the inside flesh, softly.
âThat's not better, that's worse,' she laughed outright, removing the wandering hand and placing it back on her lap.
âWorse. Whatever do you mean?' she teased, eyes wide and blameless.
Not far from the outpatient entrance, she was able to turn into a convenient space. The visit went smoothly and soon it was back to the car, Tenille feeling very accomplished, using two canes. The physiotherapist told her she could go onto one cane as soon as she felt able, but not to rush it. Sidonie was happy for her. As she drove west along Queen St. keeping her eyes skinned for a likely park, she suddenly swung abruptly right, having spotted one down a laneway. Determined to get it, it was right again ⦠around the block and ⦠bingo.
âWe'll have to walk a little distance, Babe, but this was too good to let pass.'
âThat's okay, Honey. Walking with canes is so different from hopping, I'm enjoying it.'
They came upon three second-hand furniture stores quite close together, two adjacent. Almost an hour passed browsing. In the last they saw something to their liking: Art Deco night tables and matching tallboy. Knocked about, the walnut veneer chipped and stained in places, but unmistakably 1930's. Tenille felt they were a good buy for the money. Sidonie would have preferred something more modern, but humored her since she seemed so keen. As predicted, delivery was not a problem.
They picked out a TV, looking not too old, then back to the first store for their chairs and table. A wooden love seat with four plump cushions, in need of recovering, the fabric being very much the worse for wear. The table and four chairs were not a matching set, but at least they were wood. All in all, feeling pleased, they decided to celebrate and dropped themselves down at one of the many sidewalk coffee shops that had become so trendy. They selected a boulevard table and ordered two iced teas. Sidonie was tempted by a thick slice of Mississippi mud cake, but then thought better of it.
âOh go ahead, Sid,' Tenille urged: âWe're celebrating.'
âTalked me right into it,' she laughed. âWhat about you, Babe?'
âI like the look of the cherry cheesecake. That's my weakness and today I'm ready to indulge.'
They were both so happy. The future looked bright. Nothing could go wrong. It was good to sit under the gaily-striped umbrella, watching the passing parade of Torontonians; shaded from the heat of the shimmering sun on this hot, humid afternoon. Here on Queen St. the upwardly mobile shared the same space as the winos and derelicts. Normally there was strict segregation according to affluence, but Queen St. seemed able to blur the lines; quite different from Yorkville.
They didn't stay long. Sidonie preferred to people-watch in a gay bar, where she could really get into it with some quite fanciful speculations. Tenille was anxious to get through a final load of laundry. Now, empty glasses before them, they eyed each other questioningly. It was time. Sidonie got the check.
Having decided to be sensible and finish off their various chores speedily, as luck would have it they were caught in the worst traffic jam. Everyone was heading out of the city, keen to beat the weekly exodus to cottage country and here they were, in the middle. Each time Sidonie thought to deek down a side road, she found every man and his camper had beaten her to it. She was trying to head north on Bathurst. In an attempt to calm her nerves and avoid the risk of road-rage, she tuned into Much Music Radio, catching the dying strains of Rod Stewart's, RHYTHM OF MY HEART.
âDid you know?' she asked, âthat song has been a #1 hit twice over? The first time it came out and then when Rod brought it to life again.'
âNo, I didn't,' admitted Tenille, âbut its a good song so I guess it deserves its success. How did you find that piece of trivia?'
âOh, just listening to the radio when I'm doing my drives, late at night,' she threw out.
âCan I turn this up?' requested Tenille excitedly. The song was, SORRENTO MOON, sung and co-written by Tina Arena. They listened in silence, lost in the music and the poignancy of the words. The next offering was in complete contrast, RIGHT IN THE NIGHT by Jam and Spoon. Tenille especially enjoyed the Flamenco influence on the music and the use of castanets.
Suddenly there was movement ahead and Sidonie had to hustle to get going before she was beeped from behind. North of Bloor she took the side roads as soon as possible and they arrived back not too frazzled, although that short distance had taken them almost an hour.
âBeer or coffee, Hon?' Ten asked as she headed for the kitchen.
âNeither.'
She grabbed Ten from behind, dislodging the canes and swinging her around. She was forced to lean on her for balance as Sid gripped her tightly about the waist and began kissing hungrily. When she finally released her, she could only exclaim: âWow.' looking back with enquiring eyes. âWhat brought that on?' her full and moistened lips curved by a mischievous smile.
âYou did, you irresistible woman, you.' She began to stroke the outside of Ten's thighs and over her ass, her hands kneading the inviting curves, as she pressed her towards her pelvis. In her ear she said huskily: âI want you so badly, I ache inside, it hurts. How can I spend time with you and not grab my first opportunity when we're alone?' she explained, overwhelmed by a sense of desperation.
Ten's voice was thick. âI know.' She leaned her body against Sid, feeling her heart pounding in her chest and losing the breath in her lungs. Her own arms were around her neck, her hands caressing the back of her head, the spot behind her ear too irresistible, she had to kiss it. This led her to give little licks with the tip of her tongue to Sid's now very red and swollen earlobe. She nipped quickly with her teeth.
âHey, hold on there.' She pulled her head away. âYou carry on like that and you won't get the laundry done.'
âWhat laundry?' she mumbled, continuing like one with a mission, to move around to her neck and on up to the corner of her mouth. Sid dislodged her arms with care and took a step back, putting distance between them, but still holding her up since balance was precarious, not because of her foot this time.