Token Lesbians

Foxglove Lee

“I am so coming with you,” Jewel said, hands on hips.

“Not dressed like that, you’re not!” Manisha looked from Jewel to Stefani, like she wanted approval. “Tell her! She’s your sister.”

“Exactly,” Stefani said. “That’s why she never listens to me.”

“I’d listen if you didn’t sound so much like mom.” Jewel stuck her tongue out, which didn’t help her case.

Backing Manisha, Stefani said, “If you’re going to act like a child, you’re not coming with us.”

“Why do you even want to come?” Manisha asked. “You know we’re going to a lesbian club. What, are you switching to our team now?”

“No.” Jewel’s response couldn’t have been more pointed. “I don’t care where we go, as long as it’s out. What kind of loser spends New Year’s Eve at home? Dude, even mom and dad went somewhere!”

“Yeah, to Aunt Sylvia’s,” Stefani giggled. “Party time! Excellent!”

“Why aren’t you going out with your own friends?” Manisha asked. She was obviously antsy to meet some ladies—she was already zipping up her coat. “Or do you just love us that much?”

“Yes, Jewel loves me!” Stefani cried, wrapping her arms around her little sister. She hadn’t told Manisha about Jewel’s ordeal—how an idiot ex-boyfriend sent half-naked pictures of the girl all over school. That was the sort of thing only sisters shared, and even though Stefani told Manisha everything, she didn’t tell her that.

“You really think you’ll pass for nineteen?” Manisha asked, leaning into Jewel’s doorframe. The bed was piled up with outfits that had been tried on, evaluated, and discarded. “Steffi and I get carded all the time, you know.”

Jewel unzipped her fake snakeskin clasp and produced a student card from the University of Montreal. “Read it and weep.”

“You have a fake ID?” Manisha cackled. “Where did you get this? Steffi, would you know where to get a fake ID?”

Stefani shrugged noncommittally while Manisha examined the card. “And this actually works? It’s not even a driver’s license.”

“I tell them I don’t drive,” Jewel said, ultra-casual.

Stefani chose a belt from Jewel’s collection and slipped it through the loops of her tight coppertone pants. “You’re not even old enough to drive.”

Rolling her eyes, Manisha handed the card back to Jewel. “Promise you won’t drink.”

“Awww!” Jewel stamped her too-tall heel on the bedroom carpet. “What’s the point of going to a club, then?”

“Fine.” Manisha held up a single finger. “One beer, and it must be from a bottle and you must see the bartender open it and you must not let it out of your sight, not for a second.”

Stefani had to laugh, because nothing brought out her best friend’s accent like lecturing other women. “Mani, loosen up! Have you ever heard of girls getting drugged at Chickadee?”

“There’s a first time for everything,” Manisha shot back. “You should be more protective of your sister.”

A spark of unspoken rage ignited in Stefani’s chest. Didn’t Manisha understand that the best way to protect Jewel was to do exactly this: take her out with them, keep an eye on her? Locking a teenager in her room was not an effective punishment, no matter what their parents thought.

“You’re really going to wear that skirt?” Manisha scolded. “And those shoes? Are you crazy, little girl? It’s snowing outside.”

“Don’t call me a little girl!” Jewel growled, grabbing a long coat from her closet. “I’ll wear this. It’ll keep my legs warm outside.”

“You know how hot it gets in the club,” Stefani said to Manisha. “After ten minutes, you’ll be tearing off that woolly sweater and those ugly-ass cords.”

“By midnight, you’ll be dancing naked,” Jewel laughed.

Manisha shoved her hands in her pockets, scowling at the pair of them. “I’ll meet you at the subway station. If you’re not there in ten minutes, I’m going by myself.”

Jewel waited until Manisha was halfway down the stairs before laughing. “Dude, she is seriously pissed.”

“Meh.” Stefani shrugged. “She gets seriously pissed five times a night. You gotta roll with the punches, kid.”

Jewel grimaced, but didn’t say anything. Turning for a final look in the mirror, she met her own gaze and seemed shocked by her reflection, like the older-looking girl in the glass had betrayed her too many times already. Her grin fell, and her lip quivered. Before the first tear could fall, Stefani pulled her into a hug.

They walked to the station as fast as their heels would carry them. Manisha waited on a bench outside the token-only entrance. Her glower asked, “What took you so long?” but she didn’t say a word.

“What the hell are you doing?” Stefani asked when Manisha plinked a token into the turnstile.

“Entering the subway system,” Manisha explained, over-emphasizing every motion and word as though she were making an infomercial. “Would you like written instructions? Oh, no, I forgot—you’re too lazy to read. I will explain how it’s done: you insert the token into the slot, you step through the turnstile, and ta-da! You’re in!”

“Oh, dude!” Jewel half-whispered, clinging to Stefani’s jacket. “She is mad at you!”

A group of rowdy guys rumbled down the station stairs, and Stefani stepped aside until they’d all gone through. When they were out of earshot, she said to Manisha, “Sounds like you’ve been reading The Sucker’s Guide to Riding the Subway.”

“I think maybe she even wrote it,” Jewel added.

“Where I come from, if there’s no collector, you don’t pay a fare.” Planting a palm on either side of the turnstile, Stefani let the sturdy dividers bear her weight. She shifted back, rocking in preparation.

Manisha stepped into her field of vision, but Stefani looked away. “This is why fares are always going up—because of people like you.”

“Get out of the way,” Stefani growled as she worked up her momentum.

“Hurry up,” Jewel hissed. “They’re gonna get us on camera.”

“Shit.” She’d forgotten about the cameras, not that the transit police would ever go to the trouble of tracking down turnstile-jumpers. Even so, Stefani’s heart raced a little faster as she swung her legs up and over the metal bars. She’d worn a pair of Jewel’s shoes, and even though her sister was younger, the heels were too big. They flew up in the air, one and then the other, nearly smacking Manisha in the face.

Manisha pursed her lips so hard they turned white.

“Coming through!” Jewel called as Stefani collected her shoes. Even in heels and an ankle-length coat, Jewel took a running start and hopped to the side like a pole-vaulter.

“Nice form,” Stefani applauded.

Jewel gave a bashful curtsey. “Shall we proceed to the Chickadee?”

“With pleasure!” Stefani hooked her arm around Jewel’s while Manisha trudged ahead. Under her breath, she giggled, “You’re right—she’s really mad!”

When they arrived at the Chickadee, it was even hotter than hell. Not only was the air thick as lust, but the place was packed with women. Butches wore ties, bois wore suspenders, femmes wore party dresses with flouncing crinolines, and everybody in between wore whatever they felt like.

The big chickadee at the door hadn’t asked to see Jewel’s ID, and that made Stefani feel like they’d smuggled her in. With a stronghold on Stefani’s arm, she gazed around the dance floor, eyes wide, like she’d never seen anything like it. Manisha had magically found them a table, and as Stefani escorted her little sister toward it, she felt like she was pulling Bambi across a patch of ice.

“What’s wrong?” Stefani shouted over the music.

“Nothing.” Putting on a fake smile, Jewel climbed up onto one of the white chairs with high chrome legs. “Can you get me a daiquiri?”

“And I’ll have a G&T,” Manisha called, taking the seat next to Jewel. There were only the two chairs at their table.

“Yes, Your Highness,” Stefani said under her breath.

It wasn’t until she’d turned toward the dance floor that she realized the source of Jewel’s apprehension: eyes like wolves’, hungry mouths, lustful gazes planted on the new blood, like they could smell the freshness on her skin. A chill ran through her bones and she shivered despite the sultry haze in the air.

“Hey, sugar. Wanna dance?”

Stefani stared absently at the stocky dyke who’d barked the question. All she could think to say was, “Sugar?”

That was a major pet peeve of hers—strangers using terms of endearment. Stefani glanced back and met Jewel’s gaze quite by accident, then looked quickly away. She was embarrassed of something, but she didn’t know what. Maybe Manisha was right—Jewel was too young to be around all these cocky women. Some dykes didn’t take no for an answer.

“Okay, I’ll dance,” Stefani said. She didn’t want to—her little purse was starting to feel really heavy against her shoulder—but better her than Jewel.

Stefani’s stocky dance partner grabbed her by the hips and pulled her close, so her bare belly jammed up against the woman’s sweater vest. She could only hope her belly ring wouldn’t get tangled in the wool. And why were they slow dancing to a club track?

“So, what’s your sign?” Sweater Vest shouted over the music.

“Don’t you mean, what’s your name?”

“No sense trying to remember your name if we’re not compatible,” the woman said. Her hair was slicked back and her eyes gleamed with a scary sort of lust. “But something tells me we’ll get on fine—at least in the sack. What do you think, sugar?”

Sweater Vest’s hands slid down Stefani’s hips, circling around her butt and squeezing so hard Stefani shrieked. If only she’d had a drink in her hand to throw in this chick’s face.

“Hey, what the hell?” Stefani pulled away, hoping to god Jewel hadn’t seen any of that.

“What’s her problem, huh?” Sweater Vest asked other dancers, who were obviously trying not to make eye contact. “Crazy bitch.”

Stefani pushed through crowd. Tears welled in her eyes as her purse slipped down her arm. She hiked it up, but it felt like she was hauling the Mint around on her shoulder. Her feet were already hurting, too. Why’d she have to wear Jewel’s giant heels instead of sensible flats? People did stupid things on New Year’s Eve.

“Sorry about that,” someone shouted over the music. “What a jerk.”

Stefani looked around until her gaze landed on a familiar face. “Carla! Oh my god, what are you doing here?”

The girl in black bowed her head slightly and her full cheeks shone crimson. “Just… I don’t know… celebrating New Year’s?”

“Well, you look great.”

“Thanks. You too, obviously.” Carla pulled at her oversized top. She still dressed exactly the way she had in high school—black tights and top, a playful scarf around her neck. Her raven hair used to be long, but now it was short. That was really the only difference.

“You wanna dance?” Carla asked as the music turned slow and throbbing.

A pang of guilt shot through Stefani’s heart. Carla obviously didn’t know all the terrible things Stefani had said behind her back in high school. Maybe, while all the A-list bitches were calling Carla a dirty Indian to her face, Carla thought of Stefani as a friendly, if silent, force. How wrong she was.

“I’m supposed to get drinks for my friend and my sister,” Stefani said. She wanted to dance with Carla—a lot. Whatever she’d done or said in high school, the girl had always done it for her—quirky smile, sweet baby cheeks—but in high school Stefani wouldn’t have dared. She wasn’t brave enough to hit on someone as wretchedly unpopular as Carla.

“Let me get the drinks,” Carla said, smiling so sweetly Stefani’s heart bled. God, she needed to get some alcohol into her system—and fast!

By the time they’d manoeuvered to the bar, Stefani’s purse weighed so heavy on her shoulder she was sure she’d have a bruise there the next day. When she hiked it up and took hold of the zipper, Carla’s fingers landed soft against hers. “My treat!”

“Are you sure?” Stefani hollered back. She thought she must have heard wrong, but she’d never been one to pass up a free drink. When Carla nodded, she said, “Thanks!”

Stefani grabbed her beer and took a long pull, leading Carla toward Manisha and Jewel’s table. Carla carried the G&T and the daiquiri. She hadn’t bought herself anything at all.

“Took you long enough,” Manisha said, and then noticed Carla. “Oh. Thank you…?”

Carla tugged at the hem of her shirt. “No problem.”

It was too loud for introductions, so Stefani let Jewel, Carla, and Manisha stare awkwardly at one another. When she’d guzzled her beer and stifled a burp, Stefani slapped her purse down on the table along with her empty bottle. “Watch my stuff, okay?” she asked Jewel.

Manisha cleared her throat, but Stefani didn’t look her way.

“Come on,” Stefani said, grabbing Carla by the arm. “Let’s dance for a while.”

As they shuffled into the crowd, Manisha growled something about babysitting—she didn’t sign up to spend her New Year’s Eve babysitting—that sort of thing. But before they were out of earshot, Jewel’s pitchy voice rang through the club: “Steffi! Where did all these tokens come from?”

Stefani whipped around to find Jewel staring into her open purse.

“Hey, get out of there!” Stefani cried, before it even occurred to her that she only had a couple tokens and they were both in her wallet.

“Stefani!” Manisha growled. “How could you jump the turnstile when you had all these tokens on you?”

Manisha pushed her purse down on the table and subway tokens spilled out in a continuing cascade. It looked like a mouth with sharp metallic teeth. Tokens rolled off the white lacquered table and tumbled to the floor, spinning like little tops around the club.

“Wow,” Carla said as a seemingly infinite stream of tokens surged from Stefani’s purse. “Maybe you should buy a Metropass.”

Women were taking notice now, some scrambling to pick up handfuls, others subtly bending down to pick up one or two and slide them into their pockets.

“Those aren’t mine,” Stefani said, though too softly to be heard over the music. She wasn’t sure exactly what was going on, but it was starting to freak her out a little bit.

The drizzle of tokens from her purse dwindled to nothing, and Stefani felt like she was in a dream. Maybe it was the beer? No, she’d only had one. This was just too weird.

A few of the women milling around placed tokens back in her purse or on the lacquered table, but mostly everyone kept them. Stefani might have been mad if they’d actually belonged to her…

“Where did you get so many tokens?” Carla asked, her breath hot on Stefani’s ear.

Stefani shook her head. “My friend must be playing a trick on me. She was really mad that I jumped the turnstile.”

Carla raised an eyebrow. “Expensive trick.”

“Yeah…” Stefani felt a queasy wringing in the pit of her stomach.

“Do you want another beer?” Carla asked, eager as a puppy.

“Sure.” Stefani tried to smile, but she was too perplexed.

The beer helped her forget. So did the music. She writhed against Carla’s big body, dancing close, getting hot and sweaty. While other women traded partners, Stefani stayed close to Carla. In exchange for the keen attention, Carla plied her with alcohol. She bumped into other dancing couples, giggling as her butt bounced against theirs. In a haze, she spilled beer on Carla’s scarf and laughed despite Carla’s obvious dismay. Nothing mattered, not when she had a little alcohol in her system.

When she’d drained the dregs of yet another beer, Stefani handed the bottle to Carla. “Get me one more?”

Carla stood and stared, but not at Stefani. Over her shoulder. Carla’s golden skin had gone white as a sheet. “Is that… Is that…?”

Stefani swirled around, her brain swimming inside her head as her gaze locked on white lacquer. The lights overhead gleamed off the tabletop, sending jets of pain into her skull. Leaning back against Carla, she blocked the harsh light with her hand.

“Oh my god…” Stefani’s mind buzzed. “Oh god…”

“Is that your sister and your friend?” Carla asked. “Kissing?”

“She’s fifteen years old,” Stefani said, staring at her best friend lip-locked with precocious Jewel. Her stomach flipped, and she swivelled to face Carla. “She’s only fifteen!”

The rumble in Stefani’s stomach turned into an earthquake, and she grasped her belly. Something wasn’t right, and it was more than just too much beer. The image of Manisha and Jewel was branded on her brain, and it sizzled, excruciating, like acid on film. She heaved, and Carla dropped her empty bottle to sweep her long hair behind her shoulders.

Something wasn’t right here. Not at all. There was a weighty sensation in the pit of Stefani’s stomach. When she heaved again, that weight surged up into her throat, rattling like coins inside her esophagus. He mouth filled with something hard and metallic wading in the foam and fizz of beer and stomach acid.

Stefani clenched her watering eyes shut and opened her mouth. Her throat burned as another heave brought pain and substance surging through her lips. It clattered at the feet of other dancers. Stefani didn’t realize she was crying until she got a look at her vomit through bleary eyes.

“Is that…?” Carla seemed lost for words as she held back Stefani’s hair. “Are those…?”

When Stefani blinked past her tears, she saw them clearly. “Tokens?” she choked out, just as her stomach heaved again. She was regurgitating something she’d never eaten, and the pain shook her right to the bones. Her knees rattled and Carla held her upright as she vomited another round of subway tokens. They hurt like hell as they rose up her throat, and she choked on the ones that didn’t make it all the way out.

She hadn’t realized the attention she’d drawn. When she looked around, it seemed like every woman in the place was pointing and laughing. Their voices were muffled by her desperate sobs, but she was sure she could hear them saying things like, “Eww, she’s puking!” and, “Look! She eats subway tokens! What a freak.”

Stefani’s throat blazed. Her legs started trembling and the club alternated between blank, black, and blinding light. She could feel Carla’s chest pressing into her back, and she struggled to turn around, to see if that devastating vision of her sister and her best friend was in fact a reality. But the blackness took over before she got a look.

When Stefani opened her eyes, the world was too real. Every line sharpened, every colour exploded, every note in that blaring music rang crystal clear. She was lying in a pool of beer and subway tokens. Damp acid pervaded, soaking her clothes.

Sitting up so straight it hurt, Stefani asked, “Where are they?”

“You fainted,” Carla said. There were subway tokens stuck to the sleeve of her shirt. “Are you okay? Should we call an ambulance?”

Stefani whipped around. Every muscle in her body felt sprightly and energized. “Where’s my sister?”

“I…I don’t know.” Carla followed as Stefani sprang up from the dance floor, pacing the club like a mother bear.

She’d never felt so protective in all her life. Launching herself across the room, she looked around, eagle-eyed, seeing everything. Everything but them.

“Where are you going?” Carla asked. “I’ll come with you.”

Stefani didn’t respond. In truth, she barely heard Carla past the pounding of her heart. She felt more animal than human. Every scent on the air came to her more sharply, and she knew, just knew, that Jewel and Manisha were gone.

“Wait up!” Carla called, following Stefani out into the street. “Don’t you want your coat? It’s freezing out here!”

Stefani didn’t feel the cold. “I know where they went.”

The snow had stopped falling, and sat like a heavy blanket across the city. The well-trafficked sidewalk was slushy already. Wet snow sloshed up inside Stefani’s pants as she ran toward the subway station. Her feet felt heavy as sin, and something was definitely poking into her heels, pressing hard against her toes. She tried to ignore the weight, ignore whatever was attacking her feet, but it impeded her movement far too much.

Stefani kicked off Jewel’s heels and the shoes went flying, trailing glinting metallic shards as they soared through the air. Tokens, tokens everywhere! For a moment, Stefani stood in her black socks in the slush and simply watched them fall. It was the strangest sight, but she wasn’t surprised, or even fazed. Not in the slightest.

When her sister’s shoes hit the sodden sidewalk, Stefani watched the tokens pool in slush, glinting against the harsh glare of streetlights and illuminated billboards. Shoes and subway tokens drowning in slush. She shook her head, feeling overwhelmed with a strange sort of sadness.

“What happened?” Carla asked, breathing hard as she caught up. “Are you okay? Is there anything I can do?”

Stefani turned absently, gazing up at Carla’s moon face. Such warmth and concern there—nothing Stefani deserved.

“I said things behind your back, you know.” Why was Stefani saying this? Why couldn’t she let Carla believe that one person had been on her side back then?

“No, you didn’t.” Carla’s whole body shook, and she gripped herself, hugging around her belly. Nothing seemed to help. “You always smiled at me. You were nice.”

“No, not nice.” Stefani stared poor Carla plain in the face. “I said all the same things everyone else said. I called you fat Indian, stupid bitch, ugly savage. I said all that when you weren’t around.”

Tears glistened in Carla’s eyes before streaming down her cheeks. Her voice was little more than a whisper when she said, “No.”

“Yes.” Stefani’s socks were soaked through, and her feet felt like they were blue. “In grade ten, you thought it was all them, all those people, that made you swallow a bottle of pills. Well, it wasn’t just them. It was me too. You can’t like me, Carla. I almost killed you.”

“But…” Carla swept tears from her cheeks. Her desperation was palpable. “But I didn’t die. I’m here. I don’t want to die, Stef. I want you.”

Stefani’s heart was a brick in her chest. “No!” she barked, and before she knew it her frozen feet were carrying her through the slush at puma speed. When she reached the subway steps, she turned around. Carla was a black dot on a backdrop of white.

In her wet socks, Stefani ran down the concrete stairs. The station was empty, which struck her as strange until she caught sight of the time on the big red machine that dispensed subway transfers: 11:56. So close to midnight she could almost taste it. No wonder nobody was in the subway. Everyone had already arrived where they wanted to be—with friends, family, or with someone to kiss when the clock struck midnight.

Gazing up the subway stairs, Stefani pictured Carla’s delicious curves. Maybe it wasn’t too late. Four minutes? She could make it back to Chickadee if she ran fast. Jewel and Manisha must have gone home, or gone somewhere. They’d wake up tomorrow realizing how stupid they’d been and crawl away with their tails between their legs. Why should Stefani let their sordid night ruin New Year’s Eve?

Stefani told her stockinged feet to move. She actually looked down at them and said, “Move!” But they didn’t. They pressed into the concrete like two blocks of ice frozen to the floor.

11:57.

“I don’t have time for this!” Stefani cursed her feet, but couldn’t for the life of her persuade them to move. She threw herself down on her knees, which panged when they met the cold concrete. She strained against the pain, trying with all her might to pull herself toward the stairs.

Suddenly, her feet started throbbing, getting hotter and hotter until they blazed against her wet socks. When she rolled to take them off, a rumble shook the subway station. There was nothing unusual about that—whenever the trains came in, the stations rumbled a little bit—but Stefani watched the platform and nothing happened. Nothing.

Until she turned around and looked up the stairs.

That’s when Stefani saw it: a glistening wave, like a tsunami made of metal, barreling down the stairs. Her body went stiff and her hot feet throbbed as she dragged herself in the other direction, toward the turnstile.

Scrambling to her hands and knees, Stefani crawled away from the thunderous wave of plinking, clinking subway tokens. Surging down the concrete stairs, they might have looked beautiful if she hadn’t been so terrified.

The earth shook beneath her body as Stefani crawled under the turnstile. The flooring changed, concrete to tile, and she slipped in a pool of slush. When she landed hard, her chin smacked the ground and a bolt of lightning pain streaked along her spine. She bit down so hard she was sure she’d broken all her teeth. Her front was soaked from the wet floor. In an instant, Stefani’s skin ran so cold it ached.

What time was it? Two minutes to twelve. Could she make it back to Carla if her feet cooperated and she somehow managed to climb up the sheet of subway tokens barrelling down on her? Stefani reached for the transfer machine and let it steady her as she turned around.

Subway tokens hissed, flowing like a waterfall down the stairs. When they struck the floor, a crash rang out, so loud it echoed in her ears. The station shook so hard the turnstiles started to vibrate and crack. The transfer machine trembled in Stefani’s hands, and a vision of her last minutes on earth raced across her mind.

The big red machine fell forward, almost like someone was pushing it from behind. She tried to fight it, but her body was too aching and contorted. She pushed back against the machine, but it fell down, down, down, glaring the numbers 11:59 at her as it pinned her to the floor.

Stefani thought of her sister, and her friend, and sweet Carla, as she opened her mouth to scream. No sound came out, of course. The river of tokens ran so fast she was covered before she knew it. They filled her mouth and dropped into her throat, stretching it to bursting.

This time, when Stefani heaved, it was no use. The transit authority is ruthless.