Dr. Carol Manning was in her late 30’s. The only daughter of a West Indian mother and an Asian father, Carol had a constant tan, wavy black hair, and a rather noble appearance. She also inherited a work ethic from her father that served her well on her way to med school thanks to generous scholarships earned throughout her college years. After her college graduation, she had attended a large University medical school in southern California for a few years, and graduated a second time, certificate in hand, and debt free -- an unusual combination, usually reserved for only the very privileged. Dr. Manning turned down many lucrative offers in order to serve the less fortunate of society. Now she had become the most important individual in our small company. More good luck?
We first met a couple of years earlier when she had become a member of our elementary PTA. In the passing of time, she had also become a good friend. But it was at a get-together, about eight months ago, at a local buffet, where we had met to discuss school issues and draw up plans for school improvement that she had really opened up. She had asked hard questions and didn't take platitudes or clichés for answers. I had to smile as she grilled some of the more conservative educational personnel on the committee.
As the others left, we'd had time to chat. Her charm was disarming and I really enjoyed spending those initial minutes. She had been speaking of her failed marriage, not a topic usually shared with a teacher, let alone the vice principal, and particularly not of someone of the opposite sex. Her marriage had lasted long enough for her to mother two lovely children, the oldest of whom attended my high school. Not one to avoid a faux pas, I decided to ask the obvious question.
“So, have you ever thought of remarrying?”
”Not a chance, Warren. Once was enough for me.”
“But you’re a beautiful woman. Surely there’ve been other suitors!” My face flushed a bit, realizing that I may have sounded like I was hitting on her.
“None that I was interested in.”
“Do you think that Mr. Right will ever come along?”
“Nope. Not a chance.” She had repeated herself and this time more forcefully.
“Oh, come on. How could you be so positive about a thing like that?”
“Let me be clear about this, Warren. There could never be a Mr. Right.” Carol could read the question on my face as she emphasized the word “Mr.” and realized that she was not getting through to me with the oblique approach and suddenly became very direct. “Warren, I’m a lesbian.” And that did the trick. How could I help but understand now. Carol just sat quietly, watching me digest that bit of trivia until I was able to regain the use of that fat piece of pink tissue that was caught behind my lower teeth.
“Wow! I…I didn’t know.” Of course I didn’t know. There I went with a stupid remark. But my reactions to Carol, be it her divulgence or just her presence, didn't seem to bother her. Rather, she always seemed amused by my apparent lack of brain function in her presence. “I’m sorry. Oh, not because you are...uh…you know what I mean, don’t you?” She just stared harder, making the connection between my brain and mouth even more difficult, like a heavily corroded electrical circuit. I shook my head and took a deep breath. I changed the subject…a little.
“Do you mind if I ask you another question?” I asked with a little of my decorum back to normal.
“Well why not? We’re into it this far. Shoot!”
“If you are a lesbian, why did you get married in the first place? I mean, why would you want to marry a guy when you weren’t interested in guys?”
“Actually Warren, that’s a good question,” she said and proceeded to answer. “I didn’t know I was a lesbian at the time or maybe I was just living in denial. I’m not sure now. I knew what a lesbian was. After all, I am a doctor. I guess that during high school I was mildly attracted to some girls, but I didn’t think anything of that. Some girls like other girls, and form strong bonds, but these never lead to a lesbian relationship. I never had one. I just figured that it was my juvenile body playing tricks on me. And I didn’t want to be a lesbian. I never bought into the politically correct alternate lifestyle jargon. To me, it wasn’t normal. Normal meant having a loving husband, having children, and living happily ever after. ”
“So then, one day, the bubble burst?”
“That’s one way to put it. I got married, went on a honeymoon and felt...nothing. Nothing that is but supreme anxiety, worrying about the next time he wanted to touch me. He was such a nice person otherwise; some would say the perfect man. He was good looking, tall, mannerly, neat, tidy, doting. He would make me breakfast in bed…for the times I didn’t get up soon enough. He put on the coffee. He even tried to do the laundry.” She sighed. “If I had been heterosexual, he would have been the perfect mate for life.”
“Wow!”
“And so the pretending began. I let my parents think all was well. My friends thought I had the ideal marriage. But my partner began to pick up that something wasn’t right. I never cheated, but he noticed the tension that I was feeling when he touched me. He realized that I was not getting aroused, that I was faking it. You can’t get away with that forever.”
“This is probably more than I needed to know.”
“Relax Warren. This is what life is about…at least for some people. I cried a lot. I really didn’t want to hurt him. He was so good with the kids. He loved them so much. But it just wasn’t going to work. I wasn’t really that great an actress and eventually, the truth crept out. First it was my friends, followed by my parents. I guess they were reluctant to believe it. I think most parents don’t want to think that their children are gay. Maybe since I already had the kids, they didn’t take it so hard. That’s the most likely reason I can think of that they weren’t too upset. When someone thinks that their lives are going to end and there’s no one to carry the family on, it’s really all over for them. You know what I mean?”
“And, I can understand that. You still have the children. Your husband didn’t try to take them away?”
“No. We actually have joint custody. He’s never remarried. Funny, he still loves me. And a part of me loves him, too. But it is the wrong kind of love to make a family. Getting erotic with a man is totally out of the range of possibility for me.”
“I am sorry. That had to be really difficult. You deserve to be happy.”
“Actually, I’m not unhappy. I have some good friends…like you Warren, that I can count on, friends that are not judgmental and are willing to accept me as I am, with all the baggage, good or bad. That’s why I’m comfortable talking with you. And I guess that’s why I’m willing to confide in you.”
I had to admit, she was right about that. She hadn’t let her sexual orientation get in the way of her friendships. And I realized that although she hadn’t told me about this before, that we truly were friends and I also knew that what she had just told me would stay with me. I would not betray her trust.
“I decided to make my life busy, helping others, and you know what? That’s a full time job.” Then it was Carol’s turn to change subjects. “So, tell me. How’s Lynne-Eve?”
***
“The kids are cuddled up in their sleeping bags. Bruce seems to have taken them under his wing. He’s a pretty smart guy you know. He’s got them all wrapped in the silver emergency blankets.”
“He seems to be.” I had to ask the obvious. “Why were you coming from that direction,” I asked, pointing behind her and then realizing the answer to my own question, felt that prickly hot feeling on my face and neck again, for the second time, in just under a minute. Man, she made me uncomfortable and I couldn’t figure out why.
Without answering my question, she plunked herself down beside where I had been sitting, and patted the ground. With that invitation, I sunk to the ground beside her and leaned against the tree once more. We wrapped the blankets around each other, and pressed our bodies together, doing our best to keep warm and keep each other company.
***
I awoke with a start. I had done the unthinkable. I had slept on duty. I could hear them coming. My gun! Where was it? It had been in my arms just moments before. There was a strange glow overhead. Oh no! They’d found us. I ran to the kids. Their bags were empty, small softball sized globes taking their place on the sleeping mattresses. They were coming closer. My age was hindering my progress and I was running out of breath. The bright light was in my eyes. They were on me. Someone grabbed me from behind and knocked me to the ground. I tried to scream, but the words were caught in my dry throat. I shielded my face with my hands and tried to kick my way free. "Where was the doctor?" The light was getting brighter. Finally, my vocal cords were free. I began to shout as my body was rocked back and forth by these monsters from who knew where, back and forth, till suddenly, I heard a voice in the distance. It sounded like the doctor. She was calling my name. Now they can imitate us.
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