Fishwives, page 2
“Maybe this was a bad idea.” Regina puts down the suitcase and stares at an uninteresting door and a sign they could have easily missed.
“We’re here. Let’s find out.”
Once inside, Regina is relieved the place is not too upscale, but not a dump either. Plenty of empty tables in the large, square room at five-thirty. They take one near the bar. A small vase with a single carnation sits at each table. The room is well-lit for a bar, almost as bright as the growing dusk the sisters just came from outside. Two women wearing too much makeup are hunched over a nearby table. They cut their eyes at the sisters and go back to talking quietly. A few people are at the bar, their backs to the tables. Regina mistakes the bartender for a man until the woman calls over, “What’ll it be, ladies?” in a voice that doesn’t match her button-down collar or James Dean haircut. Except for the bartender, this could be a quiet place around the corner in the sisters’ hometown in western Massachusetts.
“Manhattans.” Lynn holds up two fingers.
“Neat or on the rocks?” The bartender, tall, with thin muscled arms in the rolled-up sleeves of her white buttoned shirt, a nice smile, and a thick head of very short hair, asks pleasantly. “First time visiting The Sea Colony, ladies?”
“Yes, first time,” Regina answers quickly. “One Manhattan. On the rocks. Cabernet for me, please. Do you serve food?”
Lynn gives the bartender a grin. “The two Manhattans are for me.”
“We have snacks.” The bartender points to a row of bagged chips, peanuts, and pretzels displayed on metal clips on a vertical ladder on the wall behind her.
“No.” Regina tries not to openly stare at the barest curve of breast under the bartender’s shirt. She adds a flustered, “Thank you.” The bartender gives Regina a smile disproportionate to her reply and goes about the business of making their drinks.
“My god, I thought she was a guy,” Lynn whispers. “Could that be Darla’s friend? So why aren’t you and Darla friends anymore?”
“Shush,” Regina says. “She’ll hear you.” The bartender looks in their direction as she draws a beer for the guy at the bar. Regina kicks Lynn under the table, “Talk about your roommates.”
“You think she doesn’t know she looks like a guy?” Lynn keeps her voice low. “Okay. Roommates. I walk up three flights to share a bunk bed with Candy. She snores. Which is why you’ll be sleeping on the couch and I’ll be on the floor next to you tonight.”
“But your letters?”
“You’re the goody two-shoes. I tell Mom whatever keeps her off my back and Dad whatever keeps him calm. I’m pretty sure Candy supplements her income.” Lynn pumps her hand in a disgusting gesture. “It’s not such a bad idea. You try living in the city on a secretary’s wages.”
Lynn throws her head back and laughs at her sister’s reaction. “Don’t worry, I don’t turn tricks. Stop looking at me like I shot somebody.” Lynn puts a hand to her mouth. “Oh my god, I did shoot somebody, didn’t I?” She laughs harder. “Loosen up. It’s over. It’s funny.” She holds a hand in front of her, her finger curled around an imaginary gun. “Pistol. Small ladies’ weapon.”
“I haven’t forgotten what kind of gun. Shot at somebody.” Almost a year later, Regina can’t decide whether to laugh or cry over the fact that her sister almost went to jail for shooting at her husband, Jim. “You missed.”
“On purpose.” Lynn pulls the imaginary trigger. “Would have fired a shot to the heart if he didn’t run.” She makes the sign of the cross, suddenly gloomy. “Big Jim, big mistake.” She puts her elbow on the table and props her chin on her palm. “I miss him.”
“You do not. He beat you up.” Anger that Lynn, not her wife-beating husband, had to leave Holyoke rises in Regina. “The injustice of him living in that house you made so pretty.” How Lynn tolerates her friends back home gossiping about her private business, Regina will never understand.
“I miss all the friends we had. I miss not having to work a shitty full-time job to share a crappy room. He was a good time until he wasn’t. He hates Massachusetts. He’ll leave the state sooner than later, and I can move back.”
Regina picks up a napkin and dabs at the tear below Lynn’s left eye, realizing she’s been so busy hiding her own private life, trying not to cause their parents more heartbreak, she forgot about Lynn’s heartbreak.
The bartender clears her throat and sets a tray on their table. “Here you are, ladies.” All three of them pretend she didn’t see the last exchange between the sisters. “Name’s Jackie.” She looks directly at Regina. Regina can’t think of a thing to say. She smiles. Jackie wipes her hands on the checkered cloth tucked into her change apron and takes her time placing the drinks.
Regina is charmed by the way Jackie holds one hand behind her back as she serves them. The proximity of Jackie’s low, mannerly voice soothes Regina, but leaves her uncharacteristically tongue-tied. She looks down and sips her wine, grateful that Lynn takes up the slack, small-talking with the mannish bartender.
“Are you going to say hello?” Lynn asks. Regina looks up in time to see Lynn rolling her eyes. “Jackie, this is my sister, Regina. She’s not used to big city ways, like saying hello and giving your name when another girl introduces herself.”
“Nice to meet you, Regina.” Jackie nods. “Welcome to The Sea Colony.”
“Nice to meet you too, Jackie,” Regina says. “I’m a little tired from traveling.”
“Whenever you get a chance,” Lynn says, “another glass of red wine for my sister. It’s her birthday.”
“No, thank you. I haven’t eaten.” Regina struggles to make out the outline of the sleeveless T-shirt under Jackie the bartender’s oxford shirt. “A second glass will make me sleepier.”
“I can bring you a sandwich, if you like? Afraid it will have to be deviled ham, though.”
Regina loves the calm attentive way the bartender waits for an answer. She could sit here with the bartender standing calmly to one side all night.
“You want the sandwich?” Lynn says. “You can always have a pickled egg.” She points to the huge glass jar of eggs on the counter.
“A sandwich, please,” Regina says. “Thank you.” She wonders if she can memorize the spicy scent of Jackie’s cologne and why people think of spice as a particularly manly smell. The pretty girls at the next table have had their ears cocked since Jackie walked over, listening in an obvious way. The girls’ listening in irritates Regina. She says, “A sandwich for my sister, too, please,” and both girls laugh out loud. This infuriates Regina but she keeps a neutral expression and appreciates the dignity of the impersonal glance the bartender gives the girls.
“Jackie”—the pretty redhead bats her eyelashes in an exaggerated way. “Are you giving these girls your supper?”
“Mine to give.” Jackie looks away from the girl who laughs an unfriendly laugh.
“Oh no, we won’t take your supper,” Regina insists.
The redhead’s companion, a woman with jet black hair to her waist, turns all the way around in her seat to get a good look at the sisters. “Jackie can be very generous when she’s in the mood.” She juts her chin at Lynn. “Hit on the dye job. She’s your best bet.” She turns to the redhead. “Let’s go to The Drake.” The women make a big production out of leaving.
“Do we know you? What is your problem?” Lynn says.
Both women smirk and push in their chairs.
“They’re not worth the dignity of a response,” Regina says. “Ignore them.” To make conversation she asks Jackie, “I think you know my friend, Darla?”
“Darla?” Jackie tilts her head.
The redhead snaps her clutch bag shut. “Rack your brain, Jackie. Surely there hasn’t been more than one Darla?”
Jackie doesn’t blink as the women walk out, swaying their hips. “Sorry about that,” Jackie says. “Darla Bodowitz? From Massachusetts?”
“Yes, you have the right girl,” Regina says. “From Holyoke, our hometown. Bodowitz was her maiden name.”
“I grew up a few towns over. Granby. We worked at a summer camp, right after high school. She came into the city last year, looked me up.” Jackie nods. “Darla. Please, say hello.” She looks toward two more customers at the bar. “I have a break in ten minutes. Okay if I bring the sandwiches and your drinks over then?”
“Yes. I mean no. Just the drinks, please,” Regina says.
“You’re hungry. We’ll share.” Jackie makes a slight bow and stashes the tray under her arm.
“What was that?” Lynn asks as Jackie walks away. “Odd, that’s what. Not like you to be rude. I’m getting ideas about this place.” She sits back and takes a long sip of her drink. Regina sips her wine blank-faced. “Sometimes when we were teenagers, I used to wonder . . .” Lynn frowns. “Why’d Darla send us to a bar where her friend the bartender is a dyke?”
“Don’t use that word,” Regina snaps, “and keep your voice down.”
“You know those girls who just left are that way, too, right?”
“Yes,” Regina says. This is not going the way she hoped. Regina thought she could discreetly mention she had been with Darla, explain that it was over now, and Regina planned to live a normal life. Then she could lead into how Lynn might pursue a normal life, too, by drinking less, not throwing herself at the wrong men, toning down in general.
A bartender who made her want to peel off her stockings was not part of Regina’s plan.
“What do you want me to call them?” Lynn snaps her fingers. “Regina, you with me?”
“Call who?”
“The girls who just flounced out of here. You told me not to call them dykes twenty seconds ago. I’d bet my life the redhead is the bartender’s jilted lover.” Lynn raises an eyebrow.
“You think so? I was told all kinds of people came here.” Regina looks around the bar. “See?” Two well-dressed young men walk in. “It’s clean and . . . I thought we could both see that normal people and people who aren’t so normal sometimes mix and . . .” Oh, what the hell is she saying? Her eyes settle on her sister. “I went with her.” Regina pulls at the hem of her skirt.
“Went where?” Lynn spills her drink. “With who?” She keeps her eyes on Regina and wipes the spot with her napkin.
“Darla.”
“You came here with Darla? When? This is the first time you’ve been to the city.” Lynn sips her Manhattan and squints at Regina.
Regina lifts her glass, surprised to find it empty.
“You mean went out with, slept with? Let me get this straight.” Lynn cocks an eyebrow and leans halfway across the table. “Your face is beet red. You mean sex?” She bounces in her chair.
Regina shakes her head. Why did she bring Lynn here?
Lynn takes her sister’s head movement as a no. “I would have been stunned,” she grins, “but not totally surprised. Did she want to? What about what’s his name, the ass she married?” Lynn studies Regina.
“His name is Dan.” Regina closes her eyes. “The word is lesbian. Or homophile.”
“That’s why you have such an on-again, off-again friendship with Darla? Because she’s . . . that way? Lesbian? Is that why she got divorced?”
Lynn leans back, still bouncing in her seat, not even trying to contain her excitement over such sensational gossip. “I never liked Darla. But man, she doesn’t look it. Now that I think of it, that redhead that just left and her friend didn’t fit the bill either.” She downs the last of her first Manhattan and starts on the second. “Darla and the bartender? That’s how they must pair off. You know, a mannish one and a girlish one.” Lynn leans back, satisfied with her reasoning.
“Shut up and listen, Lynn.” Regina wonders if it’s better to leave well enough alone and stay lonely, keep the truth about herself. She better be smart. She could lose her sister.
The place is beginning to fill up.
Lynn waits, sipping her drink. “I’m listening. You’re not talking.” She twirls the cocktail glass by its stem. “Hurry up. Our friendly bartender is coming over.”
Jackie walks towards them, carrying a full tray. Now there is a second bartender, a young man wearing a half-apron exactly like Jackie’s, behind the bar.
“On the house.” Jackie sets the wine in front of Regina. “Happy birthday.” She unloads chips, peanuts, two sandwiches neatly wrapped in waxed paper, and Twinkies onto the table. “Sorry I can’t do better.” A mug of beer stays on the tray. She smiles, waits five seconds, says, “Enjoy,” places their empty glasses on the tray, and takes a step back, ready to take her leave.
“Awfully nice of you. You’re on break, right?” Lynn pushes the chair next to Regina away from the table with her foot. “The idea was that you and Regina share the sandwiches.” Lynn pulls the package of cake toward her. “I’m more interested in Twinkies.”
Jackie holds up a hand. “You were in the middle of a conversation. I only have ten minutes anyway.” She smiles directly at Regina.
“Please, join us.” Regina pushes the suitcase under the chair next to Lynn to make room.
Lynn and Jackie carry the conversation again. Regina drinks her wine and attempts to compose a sentence that will make sense to her sister, even as she tries, without success, to ignore the pull of Jackie’s warm, low voice. She chews bread and deviled ham as she drifts between the contemplation of Jackie’s rolled-up shirt sleeves and worrying that she will never come up with a way to explain to herself why, in the name of heaven, she is so interested in Jackie’s arms. She ends up categorizing Jackie as thin, but not skinny, decides her forearms are sinewy. Even when Regina was a teen and locked the bedroom door, she could not conjure up a fantasy partner that so instantly attracted her. What is wrong with her? She brought her sister to this bar to get Lynn to cut down on drinking and to get herself to stop liking girls? If she were rich, she’d take herself to a psychiatrist.
Regina is back to appreciating the smell and look of the starched white shirt pushed up against Jackie’s forearm when Lynn taps her shoulder. “You can’t possibly be drunk on a glass and a half of wine. Jackie asked you a question.”
“Sorry, daydreaming.”
“Wondering if I can bring you anything else before it gets too busy?” Jackie says. “Believe it or not,” she looks at the Bulova on her wrist, “in half an hour every table in front will be taken, and dancing will be in full swing in the back room.” She nods at a knotty pine wall with a door in the middle. “Stays quiet all night up here but gets jumpin’ in back.”
It takes an awkward silence for Regina to stop staring at the back wall and answer, “No, no, thank you. I’m already foggy.”
Lynn pulls a pack of Luckies out of her purse. Regina looks up at the layer of smoke hovering just below the ceiling.
“To sisters enjoying the city.” Jackie lifts her mug and downs the last of the beer. “Raise a finger if you do need anything.”
When Jackie is ten feet from the table, Lynn says, “What the hell? I can’t tell if you’re afraid of that girl or you want to bump pussies with her.”
“Lynn, please.” Regina looks around to see if anyone heard. “For god’s sake.”
Lynn crosses her arms over her chest. “You never thanked her for the drinks and sandwich.” She waves her hand over the bags of chips and nuts. “Or any of this stuff.”
“I didn’t?” Regina glances at the bar where Jackie and the other bartender tend a rowdy group who just arrived. “All right, I’ve got to tell you. I think maybe . . .”
“Holy fuck.” Lynn tips back in her chair. “You do like girls.”
Regina stiffens. Lynn rarely uses the “F” word. “I mean to say, I thought if we could talk I might be able to sort things out.” Regina prides herself on honesty, and she is honest, except about this one thing. Her cheeks burn with shame. Embarrassment. And anger. Regina knows she sometimes does foolish things when she’s angry. Like tell the truth? She wants to be a girl who tells the truth. But the truth is dangerous.
Lynn stares open-mouthed before she shakes her head and pulls her chair in close. “You never really had a boyfriend. Have you tried boys? It’s great. Once you get used to it, you crave it. Maybe with a little alcohol. What about kissing? You like kissing guys?” Regina shakes her head. Lynn takes Regina’s hand between hers and rubs like she’s trying to prevent frostbite. “But you haven’t even tried, right?”
Regina pulls away and wraps her arms around herself. “I just can’t.”
“Johnny Bell in high school? And that Tim guy?” Lynn frowns. “They barely count. You haven’t tried the right one.” Lynn holds up two fingers, but the bar is crowded. She doesn’t catch Jackie’s attention and the other bartender ignores her.
“Please don’t drink anymore.” Regina wishes they were having this conversation somewhere where she wasn’t craving the bartender’s beautiful arms. “I’m sorry I brought you to a bar. I was thinking of myself.”
Lynn ignores Regina’s comment. “Try it after a couple glasses of wine. Some girls don’t like it, but that doesn’t mean they’re funny. I don’t like it with some boys myself.”
“I didn’t like kissing those boys.” Regina is adamant. “I liked kissing Darla.”
Lynn takes a big drag on her Lucky and lets the smoke curl slowly out her nostrils. “All right.” She stabs out the cigarette in a half-eaten Twinkie. “Give me a minute to take it in. Look at you.” Lynn opens her palm toward Regina. “You could have any guy you want. Especially in that tight skirt.” A low laugh starts at the back of Lynn’s throat and builds up steam until tears run down her cheeks. “Come on. It’s kind of funny. You’re Dad’s Queen Regina.”
She laughs for a long time before Regina purses her lips and says, “Half the bar is staring at you. You done?”
“Maybe.”
Regina juts her chin and whispers, “Darla got to be a pain in the ass. But I liked it.” She’s surprised by her own insistent tone. “I don’t know why I thought this was a reasonable place to talk. What an impossible person I am.” She takes a deep breath. “You’ve got mascara streaked down your face.”
