Some convergence of events seem providential to the optimum, and when Marian interrupted the sob session with an invitation to an impromptu gay party, Graziela hung up with shining eyes.
"We have to go, Mimi," she turned and clasped her hands, but Mimi's sorrowful look had turned to distaste. "Oh come on, it's perfect, just what we need..."
"Not just what we need," the whole of Mimi's beautiful, spoiled child face pouted. "A bunch of women, worse off than we are..."
"Now don't you dare say that," Graziela pointed a strict finger. "It's very unliberated of you. Women chose to be gay because they're courageous, they've overcome their dependency on men..."
"But I don't want to overcome it," Mimi whined, yet Graziela was turning on make-up lights, getting clothes that more or less fit them both from the closet.
"Well that's fine. You don't have to. Here, try this on," Graziela threw a subdued, navy number at the small blonde who caught and looked at it with repugnance. "It's just a party, Mimi, just a glance at how the other half lives. And god knows it comes at a good time, when I'm tired of men-for the moment," she slopped on make-up, leaning close to the mirror.
"I mean, really. I'm sick to exhaustion with digging for feelings, mining for emotion, which is what you have to do with men, at the same time that all they need for happiness and fulfillment is an evening with the Bears or Jets. It just isn't worth it, they don't deserve the effort..." she turned with conviction from the mirror, but there was Mimi, her head hanging to watch one foot kick with resentment while the dress hung from her hand like a spent dustcloth. "Come on now, you're coming with me," she jumped up, crossed the small room by hopping the bed, shook Mimi's shoulders but got only a shoulder snub for her effort at enthusiasm. "Mimi..."
"Well I don't want to go," the full lower lip couldn't have come out further and Graziela began to think it might be a lost campaign, only when she gave a small shrug and made a slight turn, Mimi's eyes raised with a slight panic. "You don't understand," she grumbled. "I can't be seen on the streets in this," she waved the dress. "It'll make me look like a matron..."
"When is perfectly fine for a serious party," Graziela pointed out with a bit of ruthless instruction. "It's good to give all your sides a little airing, not just the most charming. You'll look beautiful in whatever you wear, and for this party, I think something demure will make a better impression. Which makes sense anyway because you've just been mourning your latest love, and for any serious mourning, you're not supposed to be dressed like a hooker waiting to snare your next victim," she gave a real twist to the convincingness there at the end, for a bit of anger usually worked well on Mimi's obstinacy.
"Well this is the way I dress for mourning," Mimi snapped with all the belligerence she could muster, but she was ripping her red mimi off to pull on the navy that really did hang baggily on her. "See, look at this. I can't wear anything like this in public," she raised her arms to begin undressing but Graziela caught her.
"You look just fine, you only need a few touches," she looked deeply into her eyes and before Mimi had a chance to respond, Graziela dragged her to the make-up chair, began dabbing on some violet shadow that she knew perked up Mimi's eye color. "See? A little color, a little belt, a little..." she stopped enumerating when Mimi grabbed the brush and took up the task with a small gesture of anger. "You're going to look spectacular, Mimi. They're really going to admire you for a whole new side, one that you don't even know yet. They're going to admire your intelligence, your wit..."
"Oh yeah? Well then how come you get to go looking like a fashion plate?" Mimi threw down the small brush that bounced onto the floor.
"Because I'm dressed in the same thing you are, but I always dress like this," Graziela retrieved the brush, thinking that perhaps men with their terseness of emotional expression weren't all that tiresome after all, not with the prodding, coaxing and coaching she was having to do to get Mimi to a simple party.
"Well, I just don't feel right about this," Mimi sputtered with one last look in the mirror, her irresistibly pert profile striking her own fancy as Graziela judged by the lingering of her self admiration.
"You'll feel just fine when we get there," Graziela assured, growing impatient during the near half hour that Mimi spent in trying on and rejecting every one of her belts. "That really is perfect," she said with every ounce of dramatic emphasis when the rhinestone girdle was tightly in place.
"Well, I do feel funny," Mimi continued even once they were in the cab. "I mean, Graziela, they're going to think we're together," Mimi said with a pucker of disgust that Graziela tried not to take personally. "Really, they're going to think we're that way..." Mimi shuddered.
"Which is just perfect for the scene," Graziela went on assuring undauntedly. "They're going to think we're a couple, nobody's going to try to pick us up, we get to check it out, go home that much the wiser," her confidence was getting tiresome in her own ears, until they were in the hallway, right before the door, when she tried to summon bravado, suddenly intimidated at the sharp laughter of all female voices and the doorbell not being answered. "Sounds like a girl scout party," she said with a tenuous grin.
"No, it sounds like a slumber party," Mimi responded, her ear cocked for hearing. "And you know what? The only fun of that was waiting for the boys to crash in on us. Graziela, let's go back to that nice bar on the corner..." she was breathless but then the door opened and there was Marian, spreading the view wide to show a roomful of perhaps thirty women's heads all suddenly silent and turned toward them.
"Well come on in," the jovial, no-nonsense Marian flipped a hand. "We've been waiting for you, I've been dying for you to meet some of my friends. And you've brought someone, which I wasn't expecting..."
"Yes, this is Mimi," Graziela said confusedly, certain that she'd mentioned the friend with her when the phone call came.
"But you're not..." Marian waved a hand to question their being together.
"No, we're..."
"Oh, it doesn't matter," Marian laughed a hearty chuckle. "There are plenty of women here for everyone-very distinguished and independent ones, women who have accomplished a lot-Ruthie, for example, who's tops in the publishing field..." Marian grabbed a passing, elderly woman and they all chatted about the personal frustrations of work until Marian was called away.
"I think we'll go get some drinks," Graziela pointed to the kitchen because Mimi's timidity was pressing against her shoulder.
"Yes, of course. What is a party without that?" the gray haired austere remarked with a tone that reminded Graziela of high school Latin, and the two newcomers would their way to a countertop with a few drinks and plenty of vegetables for dipping.
"I don't think I'm going to like this party," Mimi whispered into Graziela's ear from behind her back, and the more adventurous had to admit that even the food would not be an incentive to Mimi, a confirmed carnivore and junk food addict.
"Give it a chance, we'll hit a bar later," Graziela hissed in an undertone, molding her mouth into a wide open smile when she caught three or four faces studying them with acute interest. It was a strange kind of party, she had to admit as she poured some of the preciously scarce wine into two glasses; it wasn't quite like a bridal shower, and it wasn't quite a party as she understood the meaning, for the postures and groupings of people were a hybrid of the two customary experiences. But that's what they were here for, to get a view o the nonhabituated scene, and Graziela was prepared to do just that, as soon as Mimi unglued herself from the burdened shoulder.
"Graziela..." Mimi whined pitiably as they hit the living room again, but her own nervousness brought out the impatience in Graziela.
"Mimi, we're going to stay a while," she said firmly but as softly as her voice could manage. "I think we should mingle, separately..." and during the hurt period of nonreaction, Graziela slipped away from Mimi. Then she stood awkwardly near several groups closely embroiled in deep subjects, and when she looked back, Mimi was standing miserably just where she'd left her. Well, that was too bad, but it was each woman on her own until this experience had been encountered, and when Graziela turned back to the room again, she was amazed to see a figure she couldn't imagine having not spotted in the first place. It was the most robust, well formed woman Graziela had ever seen, with a crown of multicolored, shoulder length hair that topped her with the drama of a minor haystack. With an off shoulder leopard top that showed mean muscle, her gentleness of expression was an intriguing contrast. And by the direction of her face, Graziela could see the woman had also spotted someone worth her own notice, and then Graziela found herself moving forward with an easy, shy smile. On being close enough to see beyond her nearsighted limits, Graziela felt a momentousness on seeing a set of eyes consisting of contrasting colors. And then, when she could see between the figures crowed around the dramatic wonder, Graziela saw a pair of thighs below white shorts that were three times the circumference of the norm she was expecting.
"Hi," the woman boomed out, her head bobbing backward. "New here, aren't you?" her tone carried a delicious challenge as the blue eye and the brown one smiled with the double pleasure of independence.
"Yeah, I'm a friend of Marian's," Graziela said with a cockiness that surprised her in herself, but that of course was due to the glorious sense of being singled out, an honor reflected by the movement of the crowd to give her space. "I was admiring your hairdo, it's quite impressive," Graziela came up quite close with interest and unquestioned respect, the incomprehensible mutuality of which was signalled by the lowering of the hefty one's brazen lashes.
"Want my stylist's number?" the deep voice carried a hint of flirtation.
"Yeah, except that she'd be bored with the homely likes of me," Graziela answered with disarming candor.
"Nah, she'd find it a challenge," the robust one assured gently, but a sinewy arm appeared across her back and Graziela followed the line over to a face that again reminded her of high school Latin.
"Hi," Graziela gave her most social smile but the face remained severe and the head that belonged to it nodded toward the kitchen.
"Aren't you forgetting someone?" the voice couldn't have been more like the thin, flat, dry one of a nun, and when Graziela glanced back, she saw poor Mimi cowering back against the kitchen doorway, her face terrified, her head back, at the interest shown in her by a very eager, thin woman.
"Well no, Mimi's all right. She's really quite social, only she's going through a rough time. A recent broken heart,...you know how that is," she shrugged with indulgent empathy and while the multicolored eyes drew up in understanding, the small tight ones of the other woman remained impassive.
"I see," came the peremptory tone that was still accompanied by no smile. "Well, perhaps I was reading into the situation because Junie, apparently, has forgotten someone," those steel gray eyes looked over at the dramatic companion, whose arm that Graziela had noticed was tattooed with a snake slipping coldly from the shoulders they'd embraced.
"Ah, so your name is Junie," Graziela chose the lightest of the themes having been offered, guided by the glance of irritation the object of her interest tossed over at the tattooed one.
"So you don't know Junie," the dry one now smiled with the biggest of buck teeth, teeth so large that Graziela couldn't imagine could have been formed with the same plan as the tight face had. But her intrigue was interpreted as an admission of ignorance, for the dry one was now facing Junie while the voice went on as in a newsreel. "Junie happens to be very well known, by most people who are anywhere in the vicinity of knowing whom to know. In fact, just this morning, she was a guest on the Fred Silver Show..."
"I'm a wrestler," Junie said with deprecating objectivity, but Graziela found herself too stunned and intrigued to respond.
"Not just a wrestler," the serious one corrected. "She is the best in all the history of women's wrestling, probably better than all the men she hasn't been given a chance to challenge. Junie is the unquestioned champion of her league," the dry one stated sharply so that no question could remain while Junie's blue and brown eyes were covered by bashful lashes.
"Well, I'm very impressed," Graziela blurted with utmost respect, bringing a proud grin to the well muscled face whose multicolored eyes met Graziela's provocatively, but the thin arm with the snake tattoo was sliding across the hefty shoulders.
"Well, it is something to be proud of, and I'm surprised to find someone out there who didn't know," the humorless one terminated the interaction with a press of the snake arm to turn Junie, but the exotic one easily stood her ground.
"You should come see me sometime," she said with a toss of the hayloft head, and now the ascetic wrenched her arm away and stood at right angles toward Junie.
"Junie, I think we have to talk," she announced in a newsy format but the soft large face took on a defiance.
"I am talking," Junie turned a shoulder and thinking that she should perhaps ease off, Graziela looked backward.
"You know what I mean!" the sharp tone came to her from behind while across the room she saw Mimi eying her as if she was afraid to come over.
"I'm just talking, Angela," the wounded tone of Junie came to her with its definitive impact while Graziela made a small wave toward Mimi, who would undoubtedly be as impressed as she was. Yet she got only a firm headshake in turn, followed by a jutted jaw and narrowed eyes that clearly spoke venom even to Graziela's short sighted perspective. Perhaps she was pushing this particular party scene a bit too far, she thought with a sigh, but as she turned to say a farewell to the two who were arguing, Marian breezed up.
"I'm glad to see you enjoying yourself, but I'm afraid your friend feels a little out of place," Marian said with a trace of annoyance across the well kept face.
"Yes, she is a little under the weather these days, just getting over a broken heart and all," she flipped it off breezily but the rigid one with the severe tooth problem broke off arguing with Junie.
"And if this is your way of helping out a friend already in trouble..."
"Hey, lay off, lady, I haven't done a thing to you!" the words sprang involuntarily from Graziela with a bite that echoed in the shaking of her muscles, and the lips drew back over the teeth as the face came forward.
"Well, I'll be a monkey's..." the cold expletive ended in a sharp slap and the hand that came up to cover the sting on Graziela's face seemed the only motion in the room.
"Now that's enough out of you," Junie bent with a supple motion, encircled the waist of the angry one from behind, then swooped her around and away to a corner, the snake arm beating across her shoulders.
"Well," Marian said with dignity, surveying the scene that was coming back into subdued motion, including the sudden courageous dart of Mimi from the kitchen doorway. "So this is what we've been missing, all these years you haven't been coming to the parties," Marian bowed, her eyes studying Graziela's sideways as if weighing the guilt of an offender.
"Look, Marian, I didn't do a thing..." Graziela defended herself, feeling ridiculous at her need to do this, but Mimi's hand was now on her shoulder, her whispered "please, Graziela," was in her ear.
"Well, these things do happen at times, when strangers are introduced into a close circle. Perhaps the next time you come," Marian turned to escort them out as if the invitation were now over. "Don't let this worry you," Marian instructed at the door. "Let's get together and talk about it..."
"Yeah, real soon," Graziela let herself be tugged to the elevator by Mimi.
"God, I could go for some Jets or Bears," Mimi heaved a huge sigh, then fell into a comforting silence until they were downstairs and out. There Graziela stopped, as if to adjust her emotional posture, and when she'd taken a deep breath, her face broke into a big grin.
"Well, that certainly was interesting," she said, beginning the walk down to the corner bar.
"It was horrible," Mimi's voice carried an unquestioned shudder.
"Oh no it wasn't. It was fascinating. I mean, just think of it. I was talking to a woman wrestler."
"Oh year, that's news fit for Wrigley's," Mimi indulged in a sputter.
"Well, it is really. Only even more important, there they were, this couple more emotionally embroiled than any couple I have ever seen, which just goes to show that you need a balance, you need that interplay between open and closedness..." she mused on but Mimi was paying no attention, her eyes scanning the bar scene through the window, her hand tugging the dress further up over the belt.
"Look, tons of men," she breathed with awe, hurrying to the door then pausing for the drama of entrance, and when once they were inside, only a goodly proportion of heads turned in their direction.
"I think we've hit a good one," Graziela saw the fine balance of young and old, female and male, and to top off the evening, there were even two bar stools free beside each other.
"What do you have on tap?" Mimi asked the cute blond bartender, perking with a preening movement of her rear within the tightly drawn fabric of the matronly dress. "We'll take two," she spread her fingers in the superfluous, frivolous gesture of enjoyment, and as her eyes swept the faces along the bar, Graziela looked up to the TV ballgame, her eyes using the action there for one last rumination on relating to others, on the interaction between freedom and independence. That's what all the problems in relationships came down to, the need for reassurance of one outweighing the other's ability to make them secure, and the sexual issue aside, the battle for stability was no different from the same old conflict she'd always had with her own mother. Well, that's what it always comes down to, Graziela took a deep breath and looked over to see Mimi flirting outrageously with the two men next to her, as if she'd been starved for attention in solitary confinement.
All problems of relating came down to how you'd learned to do it in the first place, Graziela concluded as she leaned along the bar, caught the eye of one of the men, joined in the light banter; but however wrongly you might have learned it in the first place, there was definitely times when it was possible to enjoy the relearning, she relinquished all seriousness as the further of the two men picked up his beer and circled around the other two to join her.
Born in Hungary, raised in the Midwest, Helen Fogarassy now lives in the heart of New York City, from where she can maintain easy contact with the rest of the world that provides the bulk of her inspirational material. Her stories and articles have been published all over the country and Canada, while her first novel, Mix Bender, was favorably reviewed by the Associated Press, among others.
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