Chapter Nine. Their walk was magnificent
Their walk was magnificent. The orange-vermilion color of the Golden Gate Bridge cut through the fog to the north, and all along the stretch of sand where San Franciscans walked their dogs, threw Frisbees, or sat on towels, writing and sketching in journals. The glorious panoramic view of the Pacific Ocean was breathtaking. The sun had been poking its head out of the low-lying clouds, shimmering behind an almost translucent fog that swirled in big, misty gray puffs.
Mary was glad she’d told Beth to bring something warm to wear. The crisp bay breezes cut through light clothing, and Beth had donned her sweatshirt right away. Mary drew in a deep breath of salty air and closed her eyes, tilting her face toward the sun. She came here as often as she could, but usually alone. She was contemplating removing her running shoes to feel the wet sand between her toes when Beth’s hand slipped into hers.
“Thanks, Mary.”
“For?”
“Bringing me here. This is better than a rest day.”
Mary looked into the hazel eyes that constantly drew hers. Sometimes it seemed that they were different every time she studied them. At first, last week, they were glassy and remote, yet even then something had flickered from them. Mary was fascinated by those glimpses of the inner Beth and wanted to know more.
“Come with me,” she said and Beth followed her away from the water to the sea wall.
They sat on the sand, their backs to the wall, and were sheltered somewhat from the breezes. The wall felt warm from the intermittent sun and they both hugged their knees up against their chests. They relaxed in silence, watching the beachgoers traverse the sand. Beth straightened one of her legs and reached down to massage her muscles. She angled her head toward Mary, pushing her light brown hair back. Her windblown cheeks glowed and her full, sweet mouth parted in a small smile that seemed private, as if she’d just thought of something that made her happy.
Mary wished she would share it but knew Beth was keeping her at a distance. Her reserve was always there, the legacy of a damaged heart. Every time they spoke, Mary could sense her suspicion and uncertainty. It came as no surprise. They were virtually strangers and Mary’s reputation had no doubt preceded her. She could be certain that someone at the Coop had filled Beth in on her track record.
They thought she was a wild woman, living out loud and attracting women to her be-in-the-moment existence. The observations of various people gravitated back to her. Most believed she was open and unguarded about everything in her life, but that wasn’t true. She gave herself fully to friendships and experiences and encounters, but there was one place where she allowed no one to venture. Her heart.
For years Mary had shielded that part of herself to most everyone. Keeping a furtive hold on her memories somehow preserved the love she’d needed so desperately to hold on to. But lately, she’d begun to realize that her precious secrets weighed like an albatross tied to her, keeping her locked in time. It was time to move forward. She could start by talking about what had happened.
She searched Beth’s face, seeking the softness she was never able to disguise. Mary knew she tried, but her failure to keep up the facade of sophistication was part of her enchantment. Mary had always been a sucker for people who struggled to find their own strength, not simply expecting to be rescued. She saw that blend of willpower and vulnerability in Beth.
“Remember when you asked me if I’d ever had my heart broken?”
Beth’s expression changed instantly. Her reflective tranquility was still present, but her eyes were more intent. “Yes.”
“Well, I have.” Mary drew in a deep breath. “Those lost years we were talking about at the party… I was living in West Hollywood. I was twenty-six. I loved the city. It was so openly gay and affirming. I worked at a grocery store, making enough money to pay the rent and little else, but it was such a free time. I was really happy.”
Mary hesitated, trying not to feel guilty that she was about to open the door to a painful place she’d protected for so long. But this was for her, not for Gwen. “I was with a woman named Gwen. We were crazy in love and living in a studio apartment down the street from the Sunset Strip. I knew she was the one, you know?”
Beth nodded. The reserve had left her face entirely. Her gaze was tender and reassuring.
“We’d been together three years. One night, we had an argument.” Mary laughed sadly. “I don’t even remember what it was about. Gwen stormed off, saying she was going to the gym.” Her throat tightened. She looked out over the sea, focusing on the horizon line. “She was crossing Santa Monica Boulevard. She had her workout bag in her hand. They said she was trying to beat a group of cars but something must have distracted her. Or she stumbled. No one seemed to see exactly how it happened.”
“Oh, my God.” Beth placed her hand on Mary’s forearm, almost as though to signal that she didn’t need to say any more, that Beth already knew what was coming.
But Mary had to let it out. She felt tears falling as she shaped the truth into words. “She was hit and thrown onto the windshield. She died before they reached the hospital.”
The events unfolded again in her mind, as they had so many times before. There was no way to neutralize the facts. Exposing them briefly intensified the pain, then she was swamped with relief. She was grateful that Beth sat with her in silence. She needed time. The words had finally come out, cementing the reality she could not escape. But what had happened could now take its correct place in time rather than keeping her in a suspended state in her mind. It would always be a part of her, but she could exist beyond it. The secret had kept her stranded, with her heart locked away out of loyalty to Gwen. The only way to move on was to release its hold on her. And Beth, a woman she barely knew, had given her the impetus to do so.
Mary felt vulnerable and suddenly very tired. Examining the smaller hand still resting loosely on her arm, she said, “My heart broke into a million pieces that day.” A weak smile formed through the pain that now could retreat, leaving her in a healthier place. “The lost years began shortly after that.”
Beth pulled her into a hug, whispering, “I’m so sorry, Mary.”
They held on to each other until they both started to shiver from the cold sand beneath them.
“Let me buy you a cup of coffee.” Beth stood and offered her hand.
They’d parked close to the Java Beach Café and made their way up to the coffeehouse without speaking. Mary felt strangely light. She looked up as a shaft of bright sunlight fell across them. Overhead, an albatross soared. Smiling, Mary watched it vanish into the clouds.
“Ready?” Beth asked.
“Yes.” Mary leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I think I am.”
They spend the rest of the morning on lighter topics and got back to the Coop just before a downpour. Beth invited Mary in, but she shook her head.
“I need to get going.”
Beth nodded. She, of all people, understood the need for time alone to deal with emotion. “Thank you for this morning…for everything.”
She held the door, waiting for Mary to walk away. They looked into each other’s eyes and Beth’s pulse accelerated, but not just because of the pull of attraction she always felt. Mary wasn’t looking at her as though she could see them naked together. She seemed to be offering something of herself, more than just her body, and inviting Beth to accept. Beth didn’t know if anyone had ever looked at her that way.
“Would you like to go out tomorrow night?” Mary asked.
Beth’s next breath jammed somewhere in her chest. “Is this a date?”
Mary’s smile was slow but sure. “I would like it to be. Would you?”
Beth sifted through her instinctive trepidation, attempting to set aside the damage from her breakup. The lack of confidence. The urge to protect herself. Allow yourself this, she reasoned. But what did a date with Mary mean, exactly? Did it mean drunken debauchery? Did it mean sex? She’d enjoyed the innocent flirtation they’d engaged in. Up to now, she’d been able to be close to Mary without the complication of knowing her better.
Spending time with someone who didn’t touch her emotions involved no risk, and a date would be the next natural step. Simple fun. Good for the ego. A stepping stone back to the woman she used to be. But Mary?
Beth acknowledged the curling apprehension in her gut. “I’m not sure.”
“Let’s not call it a date. We can just say we’re booking some time together. How about a gathering of two?”
Beth’s mind raced back and forth between the woman she was beginning to care for and relax around, and the woman of questionable repute. She hadn’t felt imposed upon or played in the slightest, and their conversation on the beach had showed her a side of Mary she suspected few people saw. Still, that didn’t mean Mary was a completely different person from the flirt Beth had seen at the party. Lord knew what she would do on a date. Calling it something else didn’t change the simple fact that they each knew it wasn’t just a walk, or a casual cup of coffee.
All the same, the new label conferred some breathing room, and Beth needed it. “Okay, a gathering of two, then. Tomorrow night.”
“May I gather you at around seven?”
Beth laughed, relaxing a little more. “Yes, you may.”
“Pull up a rose,” Alder said when Beth stepped out onto the back porch a few minutes later. She was trimming a bush full of yellow blooms. “Mary didn’t stay long.”
“She asked me out on a date.”
“That’s very nice.”
“What the hell am I thinking? I can’t go out with Mary.” Beth blinked as if that would help clear some of the fog in her brain.
“Lighten up, Beth. It’s just a date, not a wedding ceremony.”
“It’s a gathering… of two…” Beth trailed off.
Alder looked sideways from her flowers. “As long as you know what it is, you can call it anything you like. What the heck, it should be fun.”
“Fun like a carnival or fun like grand theft auto?”
Alder laughed. “Who knows with Mary, but I certainly don’t think you’ll have a bad time.”
“She’s pretty bold, Alder. I don’t know if I’m ready for that. I said I’d go, but I might live to regret it.”
Alder snapped her head up, smiling into the sun. “Remember our pact? Regrets be damned.”
“Regrets be damned,” Beth repeated unconvincingly.
Alder snipped off a yellow rose and handed it to her. With a middle-aged heave-ho, she picked herself up and went inside. Beth followed her to the kitchen.
“What do you think she wants?”
Alder smiled. “What everyone wants.”
“And what’s that?” Beth asked, finding a vase for the rose.
“Good question. I recommend you answer it for yourself.”
Beth faked a groan of dismay. “Are you always like this?”
“I try to be,” Alder said, frustratingly Zen-like in her calm. She subjected Beth to a long look. “Were you on the beach today?”
Alder’s intuition never ceased to amaze Beth. “How can you tell?”
“You have sand in your eyebrows.” Alder cocked her head slightly and looked her up and down. “And you seem more…centered.”
“You know something,” Beth said, after considering the reply. “That’s exactly how I feel.”