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Courtney turned toward Gemma and signed Gia’s response to the girl.
“She said, ‘not really.’ Don’t take it personally. Tweens, you know.” Courtney turned once again and signed to Gemma that it was okay to go get dessert and the girl was gone—permission given, permission taken.
“Wow, that was impressive! I didn’t know you knew ASL.”
“Yeah, I learned in college. It was my foreign language requirement. I thought it would be easier than Spanish, but I have news for you—it’s not! But it comes in handy from time to time. Gemma’s dad is a friend of my husband’s, so I look out for her, but she’s a little—angry. Her dad lets her play Gears of War and I swear that’s not helping. She’s getting into an impressionable age. I never let Caleb play those violent games, instead—”
Gia listened as Courtney did what Courtney did.
“Sorry, I went on a tangent. What was it you needed?”
“I wondered—I know this is a stretch—do you have any swimsuits in the gear closet?”
“I don’t think so, but let’s check after the kids go home. Maybe we could find a light sports bra and short running shorts—that’s a cute look that’s in right now. Or maybe—” Courtney was off to the races. She’d find a solution to Gia’s need, without even asking, “why.”
Tussle
“Bye, Mrs.—Jennifer!” Gia waved to her neighbor, who was sitting in her usual chair smoking her usual cigarette, Galileo curled into a ball in her caftan-covered lap. It was hard to tell where the calico cat ended and fabric began. “You be good, mister! I don’t have time to climb trees tonight.”
“Have fun, dear!” Jennifer pushed smoke through the side of pursed lips towards the tall palms Galileo favored. “I’m glad to see you going out on a Saturday night! Don’t do the things I would do!”
Mrs. Edelman was a firecracker, Gia thought. Still spunky and quick-witted. She hoped to have that much fire under her feet when she was that age. Whatever age it was, it was timeless.
The drive across town was accompanied by music the radio decided it would play. Which station came in varied by the day, and that day, it was country. When a male voice with a hint of a twang sang the virtues of putting a drink in his hand, Gia turned the dial all the way to the left—off. She’d become accustomed to country music in Austin and enjoyed some of it. But bro country, with its emphasis on beer and babes, was a reminder of the path she didn’t want to take. No need to put a drink in her hand, thank you.
“I didn’t think you’d come!” Roxi shouted from across the backyard when Gia slipped through the open metal gate. She’d opted to enter from the side instead of through the house. Less chance to make a scene. “Come on in,chica. Meet everyone!”
So much for sneaking in the cover of night under a waning moon. The yard glowed with lights dangling from every horizontal surface. Mature citrus trees along the yard’s perimeter were strung like Christmas trees and full of fruit: grapefruit, limes, and lemons hung in well-lit branches. A positive side effect of the desert climate—and a mixologist’s dream. The little devil she shooed daily danced around on her shoulder at the thought of the sour of fresh lime against a juniper-forward gin and tonic. It wouldn’t happen. The night air was crisp for Palm Springs, but for nowhere else—70 degrees and pleasant. A citronella candle burned in the center of the large patio table; she noticed Roxi had dragged the Karaoke machine out.
Faced with half a dozen strangers, and nothing to bring the nerves down, Gia had only one option. “Hi,” she said from the edge of the pool deck and gripped the bottle of sparkling water as a life preserver.
Various greetings ensued, along with introductions. Hillary was a lesbian couples’ therapist, Carmen, a violin instructor. Marissa taught ESL at the elementary school, and Nina—what did Nina do? It was too much to remember. Savannah was missing for the moment, but she’d be back soon. And Maria was running late, but she’d be there. Maria was the life of the party, one woman insisted.
“And Gia’s a manager over at the market,” Roxi completed the circle. “She’s new in town and she could use some queers in her life. So, make her feel welcome, bitches.”
“Hi.” Gia said again, reminding herself to keep her head up—no staring at the buff-colored concrete underfoot—and handed the bottle to Roxi. With a high ponytail and a one-piece black Speedo suit, Roxi looked beach ready. She was dressed surprisingly modestly against a backdrop of women in board shorts and bikini tops, one in a traditional bikini, and one wrapped in a towel. The question was, would Gia remember their names? She maintained eye contact through the introductions to help with recall, and because she had a rule when semi-nudity was present—don’t look down. The rule applied at swimming pools, in gym locker rooms, and that time she’d gone to a women’s steam room without realizing those sorts of things were done in birthday suits. It’s not that she was uncomfortable with nudity. Nudity had its place. She was uncomfortable with the assumption that lesbians were no different from men, attracted to physical attributes and after one thing only. Which, of course, wasn’t the case. So she kept it at eye level.
It had been a while since she’d met so many people at once. No matter the setting, group introductions were awkward. Everyone described by their work as if it defined them. As if anyone really had a choice in what they did, anyway. Wasn’t it just a combination of privilege and luck?
Gia didn’t want to be defined as a supermarket assistant manager. Never had she set her sights on retail management for her life’s purpose. And yet, in social settings, “assistant manager at the market” was now her role. Her lane. So many assumptions and hierarchies came along with job roles, even outside of work.
“So this’s Gia,” a husky voice said as a hand landed on her shoulder. Not any husky voice. A quarter turn confirmed its owner. Savannah.
“That’s me.” Gia bowed, dislodging the unwelcomed hand. But why the bow? It just kept getting more awkward.
“Holy shit! It’s my superglue helper!You’reGia?”
“Yeah?” Gia couldn’t believe Savannah remembered. That was weeks before. A chance encounter neither knew would mean something in the future.
“I can’t believe it’s you Roxi’s so smitten with. You’re so—so—basic.”
What the hell?
“Excuse me?” Gia puffed up her chest. Getting in fistfights wasn’t allowed in her new life, but as country music taught her, if you don’t stand up for yourself, you’ll get run over every time.
“Oh, nothing. You’re pretty, in a basic dyke sort of way. But when Roxi talks about you, I’d think you were the second coming.” Savannah took a big swig from a crystal tumbler, some of it dribbling down her satin coverup and leaving drip marks halfway down her chest.
“Hey, hey!” Roxi interrupted, sliding between them, and reaching for the glass tumbler that caused the dribble. “That’s enough, Vannah. Maybe it’s time to switch to water, huh?”
