Chapter Three. Saturday morning, Beth lay in bed willing the time to pass after another loathsome night of fitful sleep

Saturday morning, Beth lay in bed willing the time to pass after another loathsome night of fitful sleep. Her body was racked with exhaustion, brought on by so many sleepless nights that she’d lost count, but she was unable to shut off her mind. Images kept stabbing at her brain. Bodies tangled in sweaty sex, groping and clutching in the sounds of lust. Groans building to orgasm amid the thrashing of rumpled sheets. And what made a normally alluring jumble of mental pictures so wretched was that one of the bodies belonged to the woman she used to share a bed with, but the other was not her own.

Beth tormented herself with relentless visions of unfaithfulness for hours every night, a nocturnal purgatory made worse by cascades of tears that left her with a throbbing headache. The pounding in her temples this morning was nothing unusual. She tried to relax, listening to the morning sounds of a strange house in a strange neighborhood. But she gave up at six thirty and got out of bed. Hoping a brisk run around the Castro would exorcise the demons from her mind, she pulled on her running gear and crept out of the house.

The chill of the air gripped her lungs during the first mile, but as she began warming up, the only symptoms of the cold San Francisco morning were her numb ears. The hills slowed her on the way up and then pounded her knees on the way down, but overall, she felt pretty good. Her calves had tightened from the climbing so she walked another mile or so to stretch them out before returned to the Coop. Judging by her watch, she figured she’d run about five miles.

The residents were just beginning to stir when she climbed the stairs to her room. The hot shower she eased herself into felt marvelous. Though she would gladly have remained under the pleasant massaging stream of hot water, she grudgingly stepped out into her Lilliputian bathroom. Its black-and-white tile floor felt cool on her feet. The temptation to crawl back into bed was a strong one, but she was fairly sure the nightmares of Stephanie would revisit.

Since that particular mental button was not one she could turn off easily, she threw on denim shorts and Bass sandals and a thin, faded T-shirt. Normally, despite firm breasts, she wore a bra, but forgoing the support today made sense for two reasons: she didn’t care and, well, she didn’t care. She stuffed her just-past-shoulder-length hair into a baseball cap and padded down the stairs.

She’d heard rumblings as she returned from her run, but no one had actually come out of their rooms. She glanced around to see if anyone was in the kitchen or dining area, just in case she could make a friendly offer of coffee. But she was the first to rise. She wasn’t surprised. It was Saturday and most of the residents had been up the previous night until past one in the morning. No one had been loud, but the house had carried sounds of a television, chatter from the living room, the front door opening and closing countless times, and the same, soothing clunking up and down the stairs.

She left the house quietly and hiked back toward the Castro, stopping at the first café she found. Two cups of leaded and a newspaper helped kill an hour, and a brisk, aimless walk around the shopping district dispatched another. Upon her return at ten thirty, the house had arisen. Beth met up with Judy and Fran in the kitchen and fielded an offer of more coffee. They’d made a house-sized pot.

“What the hell,” Beth said. “I’ve already had two cups, but three’s a charm. I’d love some.”

Judy patted Beth’s shoulder. She had workout clothes on, tight shorts and a tank top. Fran was still in her robe. Alder sat at the kitchen table with two other women and two men. She introduced Beth to everyone.

Gina was plump and busty, around thirty years old, with long, thick locks of dark brown hair that spiraled down her back. Her lover, Diane, was a little older, tall and thin, with a blond bob haircut. She looked to be ready for a quick game of tennis. Black-haired Dan was in his late twenties and quietly engrossed in a newspaper. Keith waved a hand while wiping his mouth clean of jelly from a bite of toast.

After the small talk died down, Beth excused herself to the back porch. She’d spied the quiet spot as soon as she came into the kitchen. It was deserted, which was perfect for her, but situated just off the kitchen, close enough to make her feel she wasn’t being too unsociable. The porch steps led down to a modest backyard full of flowers. Two parallel paths led toward the back fence. On either side of the paths, flowers of every color bloomed unabashedly. Beth noticed right away that the arrangement of colors was in prism order, the colors of the rainbow. The whole backyard was warm, bright, and full of gay unity.

Up on the porch, four patio chairs were huddled around an old wooden table that told its own story. A sense of well-being came over her as she sat down and took in the imprints left by good times and friendship. Clumps of dried wax spoke of candlelit nights gone by. Circular stains marked the ghosts of bottles of wine and beer. And someone had carved the initials L.F. + L.S. in the bleached, timeworn slats. The columns that held up the porch’s roof showed signs of the same past parties. Small pieces of discolored streamers were still impaled on rusted thumbtacks. Strands of tiny Christmas tree lights dangled across the ceiling, moist with the morning’s dew, while old, ratty speakers, mounted to the corners of the ceiling, sat mute but hopeful.

Beth smiled. It was nice to sit here among the memories the porch quietly held. She loved the fact that everything she looked at was new to her, unburdened by association. She could feel the muscles in her neck relaxing, and with the release of tension, her headache started to fade. A cackle of laughter from the kitchen broke in on her reflections and she tuned in to the idle banter of her new roommates. The animated gossip meant little to her, since she knew none of the players. The chatter washed through her brain, pushing out thoughts of home. And that was good.

When a new voice loudly disrupted the flow of conversation, Beth turned as a strikingly beautiful woman somewhere in her thirties careened into the kitchen and crashed into Alder’s chair. With a playful whoop, she grabbed the older woman in a bear hug, saying, “Come here, I wanna hug your neck.”

As each member of the household greeted the new arrival, Beth stayed where she was, watching through the window. She found herself riveted to the sight. The woman was at least six feet tall, four inches taller than Beth, with shoulder-length blond hair. Her beyond-white teeth flashed a luxurious smile. She had an incredible body, broad shoulders, a flat stomach, and long, long legs. And standing out even more than her looks was the shamelessly brazen way she entertained everyone. She gracefully greeted one person after the next, hugging, joking, and being quite dazzling. The kitchen seemed to light up and all the sluggish Saturday morning motions picked up energy in her presence.

Beth was captivated, hardly aware that she was staring as the woman moved around the room, happily engaged in what could only be described as working the crowd. It seemed as if she was purposely bestowing her quintessence upon everyone. And what fascinated Beth was that although the display appeared deliberate, it couldn’t have seemed more natural. Her air of celebrity appeared to be an extension of her confident personality, something she carried around with her every waking moment. Beth imagined she probably mastered it in her sleep, as well.

She began to grow uncomfortable. Like a classroom student at the mercy of an inquisitive instructor, she tried to look invisible so the woman did not notice her and come parading out to the porch. She looked down at the weathered wooden tabletop, pondering the events going on inside. There was something about dramatically gregarious people that she just couldn’t relate to. Well, she actually could relate, she just couldn’t emulate. Who couldn’t appreciate the type of person who commanded a room full of people through sheer effervescence?

To the more conservative Beth, such behavior was definitely over the top. Too much. Though it was obvious that everyone being entertained in the Coop’s kitchen knew this woman, she still had them captivated. The more Beth felt mesmerized by her, the more she detested feeling that way. She just couldn’t figure out why she was so riveted. The woman was not quite brash and definitely not rude. Pert was too mild. Then Beth settled on a description: vainly cavalier.

Yes, that summed her up perfectly. If Beth had to guess, she would say this woman had never spent a single minute of her life wondering about her own faults and flaws. She knew she was wonderful and expected others to recognize this too. Suddenly the back door opened and Beth inwardly winced. Discovered.

“Well, here’s the new addition to the Coop.”

The fact that was a declaration and not a question or polite greeting irritated Beth. She smiled vaguely, determined to appear unimpressed. The tall woman flung herself down in one of the wooden chairs, kicking her feet up onto the tabletop. As they landed, her heel dislodged a piece of old candle wax, causing it to fly off the porch.

“My name’s Mary,” she said.

“Beth.” She was relieved to see Alder had followed Mary out onto the porch.

“Don’t scare off our newest roommate, Mary.” Alder was motherly in her tone.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Mary flashed that luxurious smile again and Beth noticed that her eyes were a light olive green. Mary went on, “Is this a long-term or short-term rooming thing?”

Alder began to answer but Beth beat her to it. “Short-term,” she said a little tersely. What nerve. She was annoyed at this woman’s pompousness and irked at her own prim reaction.

If Mary noticed any malevolence directed toward her, she ignored it. “Not so short-term that you won’t be able to make the Coop’s party tonight, I trust.”

Alder sighed. “Beth will come if she wants to, but it might not be her cup of tea.”

“I can’t think of a person who wouldn’t like your party, Alder. It’s got something for everyone. Drinks for the drinkers, soda for the steppers, quiet nooks and crannies for the chatty ones, and loud music for dancers.” Mary wagged a finger, declaring, “Why, I think I even saw half the members of the Castro Chess Club at your last bash.”

Alder chuckled quietly and turned to Beth. “Your room will be quite removed from the noise if you choose not to attend. Only the first two floors are party accessible. The top two are off-limits.”

Beth nodded, imagining how much better it would be if she were up there right now, avoiding this conversation. She didn’t want to offend her kind landlady, but she wasn’t in the mood to socialize. Besides, she had nothing to celebrate at a party, unless a failed relationship counted.

“Who wouldn’t want to come?” Mary looked into Beth’s eyes. “Jay plays the best music in the Castro.”

Alder elaborated. “Jay spins records at some of the bars here. He’s very popular. As long as I ask him to play music, I don’t have to worry about getting a full house. He comes with his own crowd.”

“Jay wouldn’t miss your shindigs for anything, Alder. Nor would anyone else. It’s a legacy I’m afraid you’re stuck with.”

Beth was relieved that the focus of the conversation had drifted away from her. Listening to the banter between Alder and Mary, she did admit that although the thought of attending the party was abhorrent, it could be exactly what she needed most. Social medicine for a misanthropic shut-in. Somewhere inside her lay a party girl-in-waiting. It hadn’t been that many years ago that she had thrown a shindig or three. But that part of her world had been severed when the rest of her life took a different turn. Maybe she needed to try and get back to some of the things she used to enjoy.

The party sounded interesting, at the very least, and it would be a great pain diverter, but she didn’t know anyone and didn’t feel very talkative. Then again, she didn’t paint herself out to be a wallflower. She was quite popular in her circles back home, making friends fairly easily. The last time she was single, she’d dated interesting woman. No one seemed to find her boring, but at the moment she was so unsociable she felt horribly close to dullard status. Especially with partygoers like Mary-in-your-face. She really wasn’t up to dealing with the likes of someone that ribald.

A party was the last thing Beth had on her mind when she’d gotten in her Mercedes the day before. Other than training for the race, she could think of nothing else she cared to do. A party would have been bottom of her list, which, if she wrote one, would look like this:
1. Brood in some dark place, alone, for hours.

2. Mope about in sweats and a dirty T-shirt, alone, for hours

3. Anguish over the pain of being stabbed in the heart, alone, for hours.
Going to a party would call for things she wasn’t really prepared to do, like showering, dressing, and socializing. She took inventory. The shower she could handle, but she hadn’t exactly thought to bring “nice” clothes. She looked down at what she was wearing. The thin, faded T-shirt and denim shorts couldn’t be making an acceptable impression, let alone the threadbare baseball cap and the absence of her bra. In the cool morning air, she was now very conscious of the latter and, if Mary’s candid stares were any indication, she wasn’t the only one.

Beth’s thoughts became abruptly fragmented as she registered her name being spoken. She blinked. “Pardon me?”

Mary said, “It’s one of the few chances you’ll get to see the Teddy contest.”

“At every party Jay picks a Teddy Pendergrass song to lip-synch to,” Alder explained. “The most shameless guests partake.”

“The most fun-loving ones,” Mary corrected.

“Much to the amusement of everyone else.” Alder got up and smacked Mary on the back. “Enough about the party. And enough with bugging Beth. Leave her to her quiet Saturday morning.”

Mary obligingly got up and followed Alder toward the door but not before looking back at Beth once again. Their eyes locked for a moment. Beth inwardly prepared for another verbal joust in which she was loath to participate. But instead of making a cocky remark, Mary curved her lips in a sincere smile.

“It was nice to meet you, Beth.”

For the first time since she’d careened into the Coop, her show ended and her words were suddenly quite unpretentious. And just as that appealing fact occurred to Beth, Mary slipped inside the house.

Beth sat there, confused. She’d spent the last few minutes as some kind of verbal quarry for Mary. The woman had sucked her into a performance that made all that banter seem routine, when it was entirely of Mary’s composition. Beth hadn’t solicited inclusion, she had rather repelled it. But Mary had cornered her effortlessly, just as she did everyone else, making them all play their roles in her script. Beth resented that, and she was equally irritated that just when she’d had enough of Mary’s mischief, she was thrown by the sincerity of that last statement.

Trouble. That woman was trouble.

 

“Mary’s quite a character.” Alder sat down on the end of Beth’s bed after being waved in from the doorway. “I hope she wasn’t too much for you to take your first morning here.”

Beth laughed. “No.”

“She’s kind of like a butterfly. Well, an insane butterfly. But she’s really a good soul. It’s just hard to contain her and no one has ever been able to change her.” Alder reflected over what Beth imagined were innumerous escapades. “I can’t imagine anyone wanting to. But if she bothers you, let me know.”

“I’m a big girl,” Beth said, feeling like the opposite. She’d spent the rest of the morning lying on her bed so tired and depressed that she had no desire to do anything, even if she could think of something to do. Mary was the least of her problems. “Don’t worry, I can handle her.”

“I’m sure you can.”

“Do you mind if I stay here a little longer than a week?” Beth wasn’t sure why she suddenly wanted to change her plans. Maybe it was something about the family feel of the Coop. She felt safe here.

“Of course not.” Alder paused a moment, and then asked, “Did you come to San Francisco or leave Los Angeles?”

It was cryptic but Beth knew what she meant. “I left Los Angeles.” Which was the truth, but a horrible nagging started inside.

She knew she had to fight that sick need to get back home, just in case Stephanie hadn’t meant what she said. She’d spent the past three months clinging to that possibility, and now understood she was simply in denial. Stephanie wasn’t coming back to her. That was the reality.

“You’re not the first,” Alder said, leaving an opening if Beth wanted to take it.

And maybe she did. It was time to face facts, and a little confession might help. “I needed to get away from a woman.”

“Sometimes being away does wonders. And I’m not just saying that to keep you here.”

“I had to get away. Anywhere. I mean, here’s not just anywhere. It’s nice here.”

“That’s as good a reason as any to stay.” Alder studied Beth for a moment. Slowly she said, “If this is your chosen sanctuary, then be empowered by it. And don’t call her, because you will say things and hear things that will set you back.”

Beth nodded mutely, wondering if Alder could read minds. She did want to call Stephanie sometimes. Out of habit, and in her weaker moments.

Alder added, “Maybe you had to drive this far away to get yourself back.” She patted Beth on the knee and got up. “I hope we see you later.”

Beth smiled. “I hope so, too.”

 

That evening the household gathered to put up decorations, clean the kitchen, set out recycling containers, and ready chests that would later hold ice. Music rolled from the stereo and most were singing along.

Beth spent a couple hours helping with the preparations and then went out to buy more beer, soda, and ice. Alder had declined her offer to buy the supplies, but Beth pointed out that she hadn’t paid for the coffee she’d been drinking since she arrived, nor for the dinner Alder had supplied while they decorated. Diane, who was in fact the tennis player she looked like, and Gina, who was studying to be a therapist, went along for the beer run. By seven thirty, the drinks were on ice, the house was ready, and Jay had arrived to set up his equipment.

As Beth went back upstairs to shower and change, she realized she felt better than she’d thought she would. Since Alder had left her room earlier that morning, Beth had been thinking about what she’d said. If this is your chosen sanctuary, then be empowered by it. And don’t call her, because you will say things and hear things that will set you back.

Either Alder was very wise, or Beth reeked of her own plight. Whichever it was, she’d decided that assisting in the house decorating was a busy-chore that would pass some time. What she’d found were very congenial housemates who made her feel remarkably at home. Amazingly, Beth was actually looking forward to the party. Startled by her change of heart, she stepped from the shower, shampoo-scented steam swirling around her. She wrapped the towel snug and swiped at the foggy mirror over the sink. Upon examination, her eyes screamed for some Visine, but otherwise, she looked passable.

And there was something else. She studied her reflection, trying to identify what had changed. The numb look, she decided. She’d grown so accustomed to the frozen tension in her mouth and brow, she’d forgotten how she looked when she relaxed. She smiled experimentally. The thaw was far from complete. She wasn’t sure if she would ever feel completely whole again, but the calm warmth of her expression made her believe for the first time that all was not lost.