“Do you know what today is?” Jaret asked.
“Two days after graduation.” Peggy smiled.
“And what else?”
“June twenty-fifth.”
“That’s right. And what’s the twenty-fifth?” She pushed a piece of Peggy’s blond hair out of her eyes.
“I give up. What?”
“You have no romance in your soul.”
“Yes I do and you know it.”
Jaret could see Peggy’s green eyes teasing her and felt relieved. She sometimes became afraid that suddenly Peggy would change her mind or lose interest or something. Not that she didn’t trust Peggy. She just couldn’t believe her own good luck. How was it possible that she had found someone as wonderful as Peggy to love? And be loved by?
“You do know what day it is, don’t you?”
“Sure. How could I forget?” Peggy took Jaret’s hand, kissed the fingertips, then held it. “It’s been two months.”
Now Jaret felt slightly foolish for thinking Peggy had forgotten.
Sensing this, Peggy said, “Don’t be so insecure, Jare. I’m into this gazinga just as much as you.”
“I know. But I feel like I have everything and I just don’t believe any one person can. I keep waiting for some kind of zap. It always seems if you get a lucky break, if something great happens, then something lousy happens soon after.”
“You mean like me getting accepted at Smith and then my mother dying?”
“Exactly.”
“Yeah, you shouldn’t count on anything, you know.” Peggy took a long swallow of Tab. It was a device. She was tired of crying about her mother and though the pain had lessened somewhat it was still very much there. She’d learned that when she was on the verge of tears, swallowing something, moving from one spot to another or biting the insides of her cheeks stemmed the flow. The insides of her cheeks were raw and ragged. Drinking Tab was preferable.
Jaret was never fooled by these tricks. She squeezed Peggy’s hand. “Want to go to the lake?”
“Too cold. Let’s go to your house and take a walk in the woods.”
The weather was unusually crisp for the end of June. They each put on a light jacket, started for the door. Claire, coming from the kitchen, met them in the hall. She jumped in an exaggerated fashion as though she’d stumbled onto Frankenstein’s Monster and the Spider Woman.
“Oh, Claire,” Peggy said with despair.
“I wasn’t expecting to meet anyone.”
“Anyone? You are hopeless.”
“I’m hopeless? You have some nerve, Miss Priss.” As always, Claire refused to look at Jaret. “And where are you going?”
“We, Jaret and I,” she said deliberately, “are going for a walk. Want to come?” She knew Claire would not.
“No thanks. I wouldn’t be caught dead.” Claire turned her back and went on up the stairs.
Jaret felt depressed. It never failed. Claire’s disdain for their relationship always got to her. Peggy tried to make a joke of it but Jaret knew it affected her deeply. With a single look or word, Claire could sink them into terrible agony. It didn’t matter that they felt right about their love; Claire represented society and her constant putdown had an undermining effect. Jaret felt the same way now as she had the day Claire discovered them in each other’s arms.
It was a month after Bianca had brought them together. Jaret spent the night, and in the morning Peggy awakened crying. It wasn’t an unusual way for her to start the day then; her pain was still very fresh. Jaret put her arms around Peggy and held her close, stroked her hair, murmured comfort. As they lay in bed the door opened and they both jumped.
Claire stood in the doorway, her face turning pink, eyes narrowing behind her glasses. “Well, I . . . you . . . Just what I thought. Disgusting. I knew it. . . . I knew it.”
“Knew what?” Peggy asked, trembling.
“Knew that this was a deviant relationship, that’s what. I’m a psych major and I know all about these things.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Claire.” It was almost true. Way in the back of Peggy’s mind a small light was beginning but it was still very dim.
“Don’t hand me that. Do you think I don’t have eyes? Do you think I’m a jackass? I saw you.”
“Saw what?”
Jaret, also quivering, stared at the ceiling. The accusation, though untrue, was not unfounded, at least not for her. She’d come to know quite clearly what she felt for Peggy, though she had never expressed it.
“I saw,” Claire went on, her arms crossed over her breasts, “that you jumped out of each other’s arms when I opened this door.”
“Number one,” Peggy said, anger giving her courage, “you have no right to come bursting into my room without knocking like some humungus prison guard. And number two, though it’s really none of your business, I was crying and Jaret was comforting me and that’s what you saw.”
“Really? Then why did you jump like two guilty criminals?”
“We . . . we . . . you frightened us.” She knew that wasn’t the truth but she also didn’t know what the truth was. Why had they jumped? She didn’t want to go on with this. It was making her angry and uncomfortable. “I wish you’d leave, Claire.”
“I’ll bet you do. Well, we’ll see about this when Daddy comes home tonight.”
“Fine. Now just split.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not interested in being in the same room with a pair of perverts.” She slammed the door loudly but the word “pervert” slammed into them even harder.
They lay very still, each on her own side of the bed. It was a long time before Peggy spoke.
“Are you all right, Jare?”
“I’m not sure.”
Neither looked at the other.
“She’s disgusting,” Peggy said.
Jaret wondered if Peggy thought her sister was disgusting for disregarding her privacy or for making such an accusation. Since they’d become close friends, she and Peggy had talked about many things but never lesbianism. Now this suddenly seemed sinister to Jaret. Peggy was usually an open person, nonjudgmental. But perhaps for her, as for many other people, this subject was different. And perhaps Jaret had known it all along and that was why she’d never brought it up. That was why she’d never told this dear friend, someone she thought of as her other half, that for years and years she had been attracted to girls. Now she could never tell her.
“You mustn’t let it get you,” Peggy said.
When Jaret felt Peggy’s hand touch hers she pulled away as though she’d been scorched, threw back the covers and jumped out of bed. “I’ve got to get going,” she said.
Peggy sat up, leaning on an elbow. “Going? Going where?” It was Saturday and they’d planned to spend the day together.
“I have some errands . . . for my mother.”
“You never said . . .”
“I just remembered.”
Jaret took her clothes into Peggy’s bathroom and shut the door.
Peggy was alone with her thoughts. Why had they jumped? Why was Jaret acting so strange? Sure, what Claire said had been upsetting, but it was the kind of thing they would normally have found funny. But nothing felt funny; it felt awful. It was especially awful because Jaret was so obviously hurt. And that hurt her. She couldn’t stand Jaret to be hurt because . . . because she loved Jaret. Well, what the hell was wrong with that? There was nothing wrong with two women loving each other. Nothing at all. Her mother had loved her best friend, Renee, and wasn’t ashamed of it. You weren’t a pervert just because you loved someone of your own sex, for God’s sake!
Jaret came out of the bathroom to find Peggy standing in the middle of the room, staring at her. It made her feel naked.
“Listen, Jare, we’re not perverts because we love each other. You know that, don’t you? I mean, I love you, I really do. And I know you love me and so what? There’s nothing wrong with that and you can’t let Claire make some ugly gazinga out of it.”
The final nail in the coffin, Jaret thought. If she’d had the slightest reservation about Peggy’s feelings they were perfectly clear now. Lesbianism was ugly to her.
“Jare, do you hear me? Loving each other does not make us perverts.”
“Oh, Peg,” she said, pushing past her, out of the room, down the stairs and out of the house.
Peggy heard the car start up and take off with a squeal. What was going on? What was wrong with Jaret? She could just kill Claire!
Quickly she dressed and went downstairs. Claire was waiting for her.
“Lovers’ quarrel?”
“Yes,” Peggy said. “Exactly. And it’s your fault.”
“I’m telling Daddy.”
“Claire, I don’t care who you tell. I love Jaret and I’m proud of it and the fact of the matter is you’re just jealous because no one loves you. And if you tell Daddy, it’s because you’re consumed with envy.” She gave Claire a push and was out the door.
When Peggy didn’t see Jaret’s car in front of her house she knew where she’d be. Washington Rock. It was up in the Grey Hills and they often went there to look at the view and talk.
As she drove up Huron Avenue she wondered why she’d said what she had to Claire. Everything was haywire today. She had in effect said that she and Jaret were . . . lovers. Why? Well, what if they were? She had a flash of lying in Jaret’s arms and realized it made her happy, warm, content. Was that love? Sexual love? Would she want to kiss Jaret on the mouth?
“Who’re you kidding?” she said aloud. Wasn’t it amazing what secrets you could keep from yourself? Of course she would want to kiss her. And this was not the first time she’d thought of it. Late at night, in her room alone, she’d held the pillow and pretended it was Jaret. Kissed the pillow. Just what kind of dumb game had she been playing anyway?
She turned into the parking lot. Only Jaret was here this early.
“Hi,” she said, getting into Jaret’s car.
Jaret looked straight ahead. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see the view.”
“Very funny.”
“Jaret? Jaret, look at me.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?” Peggy wanted desperately to reach out and touch her, comfort her the way she’d been comforted.
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“You sound like me with my father.”
She smiled. “Or me with mine, I guess. But you wouldn’t understand, Peg. I just can’t talk about it.”
“About what?”
Jaret looked at her. “About what’s bringing me down.”
“Look, I know it’s what Claire said. I know how it made you feel.”
“That’s just it, you don’t,” Jaret said. She picked some imaginary lint from her jeans.
“Okay, I don’t. But I do.”
They were silent for a few moments.
Then Peggy started to laugh. “I told Claire she was right. I said we were lovers.”
“You what? Why?”
“I don’t know,” she answered, shrugging. “Something just came over me.”
“Did you freak out or what?”
“I dunno.”
“Well, for God’s sake, Peg, what’s going to happen?” Jaret gripped the steering wheel, knuckles turning whitish. “Claire will . . . well, she’ll tell your father, won’t she? I mean, that’s what she said—you heard her. Oh, Peg, you must be crazy. She’ll tell your father and then he’ll lay it on mine and then no one will believe us and they won’t let us see each other anymore. I can see it now. I’ll be sent to my Aunt Sandy’s in Texas. . . . Why did you do it? No one will believe us, Peg.”
“Well, I guess we might as well be what they think, then, huh?” Peggy squeezed the edge of the vinyl seat, hands slippery with sweat.
Jaret stared at her. She understood what Peggy had said but she could think of no reply. Peggy must be kidding. But it wasn’t funny to Jaret. She supposed she was expected to come back with some witty rejoinder, some smartass remark, some putdown of homosexuality. Well, she wasn’t going to do that; she wasn’t going to betray herself, not even for Peggy.
She looked away, through the windshield and out to the valley below. Everything was green, lush. It made her want to weep. Her eyes filled, vision blurred and slowly tears spilled over, ran down her cheeks. She couldn’t move, did nothing to hide her tears.
“Jaret, why are you crying?” Now Peggy reached out, touched her shoulder, squeezed slightly, then moved closer, slipping her arm around Jaret. “Oh God, Jare, what is it? What did I say? I thought you . . . You see, I realized . . . Oh, Jare, I love you.” There.
Jaret knew Peggy loved her as a sister, a friend. This repeated declaration only made the tears come faster, stronger.
“I don’t understand, Jaret. Why are you crying? Don’t you love me?”
Now she would have to answer she did love Peggy. Jaret nodded, tears still coming.
“Then why?”
If she didn’t tell Peggy now Jaret knew their friendship would end. She couldn’t live a lie. Peggy might as well know the truth and if she couldn’t take it or was disgusted by it or hated Jaret for it, then it was better to know now for sure. Jaret wiped the tears from her face with her sleeve and turned to face Peggy, who looked bewildered, lost. Jaret smiled, taking in the generous mouth and slightly large nose.
“Oh, Peg,” she finally said. “This is a mess. Damn Claire.”
They were very near, faces closer than they’d ever been, except perhaps in the dark, in bed, when they whispered secrets. Jaret knew that with the slightest movement forward, head angled, she would be touching Peggy’s lips with her own. Peggy knew this too. Almost imperceptibly, they each pulled back.
“Damn Claire,” Peggy echoed, whispering. Her heart was thudding and she was both excited and frightened.
Jaret decided not another second could pass without her confession or she would die. “I don’t think you understand, Peg. I don’t think you know what’s going on. Claire was right. I do love you that way. I have almost from the first day.” Now that it was out she didn’t disintegrate, feel slimy. She felt good. She began to breathe more regularly.
Peggy smiled. “Yes, I know. Me too. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, you dumb gazinga.”
Jaret didn’t mean to say a stupid thing like: “What?” But she did. It was right out of a bad movie and they both laughed, breaking the terrible tension. When they stopped laughing and they returned to looking into each other’s eyes, a different kind of tension began and finally ended as they naturally, sweetly kissed for the first time.
Claire hadn’t told but always held it over their heads and never missed a chance to make a nasty comment.
“C’mon, Jare,” Peggy said, “let’s take that walk. The hell with Claire. She’s just jealous. You know that.”
“Yeah,” said Jaret, not knowing that at all.