Chapter 3: Marcy

Saturday, November 26, 2022

My mom, Diane, met me at the house’s side door. I almost always entered through the back door because I had a semi-private staircase to my bedroom. When I started my seventh year of middle school, my parents did a major remodel of the house, making the upstairs sealed off as a small apartment. They intended to rent it out for extra income, but I ended up using it when my ex-girlfriend, Gina, and I began dating. Gina slept over a lot because her home situation was so bad.

“Do you need some help?” Diane asked. My arms were full of the supplies I’d bought for my date with Jade that night. I had no desire to let her see what was in the bags I was toting.

“I’m good.” Just then, one of the bags nearly slipped from my grasp, the traitors. “Okay, maybe if you could get my bedroom door?”

Diane hurried up the steps in front of me and opened the door. I dashed across the room to set my cargo on the coffee table. “Thanks.”

“Never pegged you as someone to go on a shopping spree,” Diane said, looking over my bags.

I tousled the curls in my hair, a nervous habit I’d picked up from her. We had more than just our hair in common. According to basically everyone I’ve ever met, I was a clone of my mom, except I was taller and more muscular. That stuff I got from my sperm donor. My mom was still a bit tall for a woman at 5’9”, but I peaked at just over 5’11”. We had the same oval face, high cheekbones, and curly brunette hair. Our eyes were both technically hazel, but hers had a bit more brown, whereas mine tended to appear more green, blue, or gold, depending on what I was wearing. Unfortunately, I mostly wore flannels and jeans.

“I’m in charge of tonight’s date with Jade. I have something special planned.”

“Ooh.” My mom clapped her hands in a giddy fever. “What?”

“Just ... romantic stuff. Candles. Flowers. Making dinner.”

Diane’s hand was on my forehead before I stopped talking. “You must be ill. I’ve never known you to put so much effort into a date.”

That wasn’t exactly true. I’d taken extra steps to be romantic for my senior homecoming and prom with Jade. “What are you and Phoebe doing tonight?”

“Just watching a show and cooking together.”

I was almost five when my dad left my mom. Diane and Phoebe became a thing soon thereafter, and I was basically raised by two moms. I guess that’s another thing I inherited from my mom: being a lesbian. Phoebe, my adopted mother, had gotten Diane, my biological mom, into traveling when they first got together. They traveled often enough that they preferred quiet nights indoors when they were home.

After I finished putting away all my date night supplies, Phoebe and Diane called me into their room because they were hanging an art piece and wanted to ensure it was level and centered over their fireplace before letting go. My mothers were usually very private about their bedroom, and I never went inside it, even as an adult. This had not been the case when my mom and dad shared it. I remembered playing in there as a small child, but the room was much larger in those memories.

Once the picture hanging was finished, we lounged together in the living room. Phoebe, like my mom, was also a beautiful woman. She was shorter than Diane by almost half a foot and wore her blonde hair in a cute pixie cut for the last five years, and it made her look a little older than Diane, although Diane was almost five years Phoebe’s senior.

My mom had me at age sixteen. And by age twenty-one, she was single again. Phoebe was still in high school when she and Diane met shortly after my dad left us. Our family dynamic was strange. I was a couple of weeks away from being nineteen. My mom was about to turn thirty-five. And Phoebe was only thirty-two. But we worked.

I had grown up around two beautiful women. The first time I’d accidentally walked in on Diane and Phoebe having sex, I wasn’t disturbed at all. It felt right. I was nine the first time I stumbled onto a pornographic website and went right to the lesbian porn. The first time I masturbated was watching Sasha Grey fuck a blonde woman with a strap-on. I discovered straight and gay porn as well, but they didn’t hold my interest. I always liked beautiful women. I always wanted beautiful women. Both of my girlfriends had more or less fallen into that category.

“We haven’t seen Jade around much lately,” Phoebe said. “Is everything okay between you two?”

I shrugged. They already knew about my decision to support Jade dating Kitt. Jade and I had discussed over multiple late-night chats, many ending in my tears. And believe me when I say I’m not big on crying. Jade’s romance with Kitt had been a major upheaval in my life. Ultimately, my moms left the decision in my hands and promised to support me and Jade in whatever we decided.

“Is she keeping to your agreements?” Diane asked.

“I don’t know. She’s with him a lot, studying on nights she’s supposed to be with me. And she doesn’t always make up the nights she’s studying. But she’s not supposed to ... sleep with him on those nights, but I think she might be. She’s always been very assertive when it comes to sexuality. And lately, I’ve been the one initiating things between us. I know her classes are important. I just—I want to be important too. But right now, it seems like I’m the old hat while Kitt is this new and exciting thing in her life. I’m not even mad at him. I’m mad at her.”

Phoebe put an arm around me. “You need to be telling her these things. We can listen. We can offer advice. But we can’t change anything.”

“What time is she coming over?” Diane asked.

I checked my watch. “About an hour.”

“Do you want any help setting up?” Phoebe asked.

“No.” I stood back up. “I want to do it. For her.”

My moms both smiled proudly at me, which warmed me from the inside out. After they left my room, I put candles up, sprinkled rose petals around the room, and set a few more up in vases or tall cups, whatever I could find. I quickly researched sexy playlists and picked a couple of them, and then I ordered chicken fettuccini—Jade’s favorite food—to be delivered in the next thirty minutes.

At ten minutes past the time she was supposed to arrive, my phone buzzed with a text notification. My stomach dropped before I even read it.

Jade: I’m supposed to be getting off work but Marcos started throwing up and had to go. I called my boss to see if Velma could close alone, but she said I had to stay with her. I’m stuck here until midnight! I’m so sorry!

I sighed and put my phone away. The food arrived, but I wasn’t in the mood for alfredo. I put it in the fridge, blew out the candles, and went downstairs to my truck. My usual spot to dine when I was alone was the Pink Umbrella, the only lesbian bar in town. There wasn’t even a gay bar in town. Most of the gay men drove the two hours to Denver. They had lots of gay bars in Denver. But for some reason, our small city had enough queer women to keep a lesbian bar running. Go figure.

I found a booth in the corner where I could watch people and not attract too much attention. Because of my physique, I tended to attract a lot of femmes. And because of my looks, I tended to attract butches. Not a helpful combination for a lesbian who is already taken. Sort of. I’m not trying to brag, but that was my reality.

The bar had a long counter running along the far side, which was very active currently. Not surprising for a Saturday night. Scattered between the booths on the opposite wall of the bar area were small round tables with seating for two to four women. At the back of the bar was a small but adequate dance area, lit with soft, warm lights. Four women dancing to “Girls Like Girls” captured my gaze for a few minutes. I ate at the Pink Umbrella often enough to know at least by sight a few of the regulars and most of the staff. For example, the two girls serving the drinks tonight were Tiffani, a cute stud, and Britt, a tall femme with a streak of snow-white hair running through her normally brunette locks who wore way too much makeup.

My server was Kim, a tiny Korean American butch with many piercings and even more eye shadow. “Hey, Marcy. What can I start you to drink tonight?”

“Water is fine,” I answered. I usually drank something with alcohol when I came here. I’d had a great fake ID since I was sixteen. Tonight, however, I wasn’t in the mood to drink. While I waited, I glanced around the bar. I couldn’t help it. Normally, I didn’t have a wandering eye, but my arrangement with Jade meant I could technically meet new people and possibly even date. Occasionally, I was tempted, but usually by straight women.

Only one woman caught my attention: a silvery-haired femme who sat with her side to me. I couldn’t make out much more than a faint profile because of the lighting, but she looked tall, willowy, and very much my type. I turned slightly away from her so I didn’t seem to be staring. Kim returned momentarily with my water, and I ordered a BLT with a side salad. I checked my phone but knew I had no new notifications. I also knew I should have texted Jade back by now, but I was still too angry to formulate a normal or understanding response.

The door to the bar opened, and Gretel Perkins walked in, clutching her girlfriend’s hand. Gretel and I worked together at Gary Kopell Plumbing. Not surprisingly, she was still wearing her overalls with a wife beater and work boots. She was like a cartoon character in that she wore the same type of clothes every day. The only variation was the brand or color. She changed her eyebrow, lip, and ear piercings more than her clothes style.

Gretel saw me and gave me a nod. Her girlfriend, Sofia Baxter, waved at me and then turned to Gretel. They spoke for a few seconds, then sauntered over to my table.

“Hey, Marcy,” Gretel said in her normal bored, drawling voice. “Where’s Jade?”

“Work,” I said.

“Would you like some company?” Sofia asked. “We were going to eat at the bar, but then Gretel thought you might like a friendly face. No one wants to eat alone, right?”

Gretel looked at me with an apologetic gaze. I had known her long enough to tell that every word from Sofia’s mouth was Sofia’s idea, not Gretel’s. However, I didn’t want to be rude, so I invited them to sit. Kim returned soon to take their orders. Sofia peppered me with questions about work, Jade’s schooling, and what sort of projects I had been working on as of late.

I was a plumber with a brand-new residential plumber’s license or RPL. Not very exciting, except having an RPL right out of high school was rare. I was lucky that Gary Kopell, the owner of Gary Kopell Plumbing, had taken me under his wing as an apprentice and helped me get the hours and experience I needed to quickly receive my RPL after graduating high school. This was great as it meant higher pay and autonomy to do certain types of residential work without the supervision of a master plumber, which was usually Gary in my case.

Gretel was a few years my senior, working on her master’s license. I still had many more hours of work to log before I could apply for a journeyman’s license. I talked about some of the stuff Gary was having me do day to day, but every time I mentioned a project, Sofia countered it with something Gretel was doing that seemed better or more interesting. If I mentioned I was doing work on a large residential property, Sofia bragged about how Gretel was involved in a major commercial project. I didn’t bother to remind Sofia how I worked with Gretel, so I knew exactly what she was doing on a day-to-day basis.

I had long thought the two were an odd couple. The few times I’d seen Sofia with Gretel, their stark differences always boggled my mind. Sofia was very wealthy and in her early forties. She was a beautiful woman. Tall, slender, with highlighted and curled hair. She was always dressed impeccably. A pillow princess, most likely. I hadn’t gotten to know Gretel well enough to ask what Sofia was like in bed. I wasn’t sure I would ever know Gretel that well. She didn’t really like to talk. She had told me enough to explain why she liked wearing denim overalls over a wife beater most days.

She had the company logo patched onto her overalls, but it left her sleeve of tattoos visible. “No point in getting ink if people can’t see it,” she had said.

Her tattoos were of DC comic book villains. I didn’t recognize them all, but some were obvious. The Joker, Harley Quinn, Catwoman, and a yellow version of the Flash.

“Why bad guys?” I’d asked her once when we were on a job together.

“Bad guys are the real story,” was her answer. “Without bad guys, we wouldn’t need good guys.”

“How was your Thanksgiving?” Sofia asked. “Did you and Jade do anything together?”

Before I could respond that my girlfriend and I hadn’t shared Thanksgiving because of “scheduling conflicts,” Sofia cut in again.

“Gretel and I flew to the west coast to a small bed and breakfast on an island right off the coast in the Pacific. It was amazing. Wasn’t it amazing, Gretel? Gretel loved it. We should show Marcy our more G-rated pictures!”

Gretel stirred uncomfortably in her chair and avoided my eyes. Our food arrived a moment later, saving me from inventing a response feigning interest in the Pacific islands.

I looked up from my food just as someone passed by my left side. I caught a glimpse of silver hair and turned my head. It was the woman I’d seen earlier. The scent of sugar or vanilla was very strong on her. Almost sickly sweet. But I didn’t catch a glimpse of her face. She wore a tight pair of jeans and a pale blue silk blouse. Her ass was fantastic, as were her legs. Both Gretel and I stared at her until she left the bar. When I turned back, Sofia’s lips were pursed as she gave Gretel a stare that would peel the paint off a car.

Our conversation died down to scattered questions and answers as we ate. Sofia was quite a delicate eater, whereas Gretel and I tore into our food. At one point, I excused myself to use the ladies’ room. It always made me laugh how, at the Pink Umbrella, the two restrooms had custom plates to identify one as Butch and the other as Femme instead of Men and Women. I typically went into the Femme toilet because it was closer.

When I stepped out of my stall after peeing, I walked right into Sofia. It startled me, and I half-yelled, half-gasped, “Sorry!”

Her being right in my way had not been a coincidence. She’d been waiting for me. She wore a smile on her face, but it was not a nice one. It reminded me of Wile E. Coyote in the Road Runner cartoons in those moments when he concocted a plan he was sure would catch the bird.

Sofia dug through her purse and removed a tube of lip gloss. She took her time applying it, her eyes still on me, her body blocking my path to the sink. After she’d replaced the tube in her purse, she said, “For someone as tall as you are, you’re awfully graceful. And for someone who dresses the way you do, you’re awfully feminine.”

“I was in dance for several years,” I said in a tone that made my discomfort obvious.

“Why did you quit?”

“I grew taller than everyone else and didn’t like being the tallest girl on stage.” Why was she bringing this up?

Sofia eyed me like a cat staring down a baby rabbit. “Gretel is into tall women.”

“Oh? I’m into short women usually, but Gretel’s not my type.”

“That woman in the blue blouse who walked by our table? That’s totally Gretel’s type.”

I was at a loss for words. I had never been cornered in a bathroom stall before. What was I supposed to say? “Oh. I didn’t know that. You’re quite tall, though. Right?”

Sofia looked at me like I was an idiot. My question was a bit idiotic. She was standing right there and wasn’t quite as tall as me. My best guesstimate was Sofia stood about 5’7” without shoes.

“I’ve never been with a tall woman,” Sofia said. Then her eyes dropped to my boots and traveled all the way up to my hairline. I felt like I’d been scanned by a woman-eating robot. “Maybe someday that will change.”