» Giant Steps: The Book of Dawn - 6
Giant Steps: The Book of Dawn - 6
Chapter (Cont.)
The sliding glass door squeaked as she slid it open. Dawn smiled weakly, while remaining outside. I could hear her teeth grinding. She did that every time she was about to allow herself to make a new discovery. Without coming inside, she closed the door again, sat on the floor of the deck and stared at me through the window. Then she disappeared, only to return minutes later with flowers in her hand. Making a bold entrance into the room, she immediately grabbed my empty tea cup and used it as a vase. Dropping onto the couch opposite me, Dawn removed her shoes and whimsically placed her feet on the coffee table. An instant replay of our former meeting within these walls.
"Now to business," she said. "I want to talk about Karen."
"Okay, what about Karen?"
"It's hard to begin," she sighed. "Karen has always been my dearest, dearest friend. We used to go every place together ... shopping, the library, the movies, the city. We could talk for hours and hours and hours. There's nothing we couldn't say to each other. I told her everything, even about Jonathan. We were real friends. Tina's nice and so is Suzanne, but with Karen, it was special. And now I can't look at her."
"Why can't you look at her?" I asked. Several minutes passed without a response. "Dawn, what are you feeling?"
"Very uncomfortable."
"Why?"
"Because of what I am," she hissed, her voice raspy.
"What do you mean?"
"This isn't just anything, you know." She eased herself off the couch and leaned against the window. Suddenly, she whipped around with clenched fists. I thought she was going to scream, but then, in a hushed tone, she said: "I'm a lesbian."
"What do you mean?" I questioned.
"sh*t, Kaufman, you know damn well what I mean," she shouted. "A dike. That's what I am, a di ke, a homosexual, a lesbian!"
"Those are words, Dawn. They mean different things to different people. What do you mean when you call yourself a lesbian?"
"Well, I'm not talking about when two girls hold hands." She paced the room nervously. "Three months ago my parents went to Chicago for the weekend. Rather than get shipped off to my aunt, they agreed to leave me home if Karen slept over. We stayed up talking till three in the morning. Then, we decided to swap backrubs. I did hers first. Then she did mine." A long pause. Her breathing became labored, her throat tensed. "It felt so good, so damn good. Suddenly, I realized she had slipped her hands under me. When she touched my breasts, I thought I'd die. I didn't move. She kept at it. One thing led to another. There we were, naked, hugging each other, touching each other - everywhere." Blood flushed her face.
"Dawn, what is it about that experience that is so upsetting to you?"
"I don't want to be a lesbian!"
"Then why do you believe you are?"
"Doesn't that prove it? I slept with a girl," she said, "not a guy."
"If you smoked a joint or sniffed cocaine, as you once mentioned you did, does that make you a junkie?"
"No, of course not," she declared.
"Okay, then if you are sexual with another girl, why would you call yourself a lesbian?"
Dawn sighed. "There's more. When I watched a ballet company perform in school, I couldn't keep my eyes off the lead dancer - and the lead dancer was female."
"What do you think that meant?"
"That shows me I must really be gay."
"How so?"
"It's not natural to be attracted to women, to people of your own sex."
"Why do you believe that?"
"Are you kidding? Because... because that's I what I've been taught, that's what everyone believes."
"Sure," I said, "someone taught it to you. And, perhaps, many others believe the same thing. But each of us would have our own reasons for believing it. So the question remains the same. Why do you believe it's not natural to be attracted to women.
"You mean it is?"
"What do you think, coming from you?" I asked.
"I guess when I think about it, I don't really believe it. Before this happened with Karen, I could watch Billie Jean King play for hours and enjoy looking at Gracie Slick wiggle her ass all over the stage. Then, it seemed okay."
"What's the difference now?"
"I know something about myself that I never knew," she said.
"Which is?"
"That it's in me, the lesbian thing. And what about Noah? I let him touch me and rub me and kiss me. I wanted to love it, but nothing happened."
"What do you mean?"
"I didn't get excited. I do much better masturbating."
"Why do you think you don't get excited?"
"Because I'm not into guys?"
"Is that a question or an answer?"
"Both, I guess. I don't know," she said, "if I'm into men any more."
"Why don't you use Noah for an example, since he's the one that doesn't excite you?"
"Oh, this is stupid, the whole discussion. Noah's a lousy example. He's kind of a nice slob, but I'm not into him, his head or his body. It's so uncomfortable."
"What is?"
"To try to turn yourself on to someone who doesn't interest you."
"Why would you want to do that?"
A smile momentarily surfaced on her face. "That's a good question, Kaufman. If I made it with Noah, it would change what happened with Karen."
"How?"
"Well, it would show me that men do excite me. But look what happened, I can't get turned on by a man."
"Why do you believe if Noah doesn't turn you on, then no man can turn you on?"
"I guess that really wouldn't follow, Maybe if Greg or David asked me out, it would be different."
"So are you saying it doesn't mean that?"
"Yes. It doesn't follow. I could still like other boys and not be excited by Noah. But that doesn't erase what happened. That doesn't un-make me a lesbian."
"How do you feel when you call yourself a lesbian?"
"sh*tty. Unhappy."
"Why?"
"Because I don't want it this way," she said.
"Not wanting something to be a certain way is very different from being unhappy about the way it is. What are you afraid would happen if you weren't unhappy about what you and Karen did?"
"Then we might do it again."
"Oh, are you saying by being unhappy, you'll make sure you won't do it again?"
"Yes. Starts to sound silly after a while, doesn't it?"
"Let's follow it through. Why do you believe you have to get unhappy to prevent yourself from doing what you don't want to?"
"I don't believe that," she sighed. "But I guess I did when I said it. It's the same thing I did with the experience with Jonathan. Drove myself crazy, so I'd take care of myself. I certainly don't have to do that." Dawn nodded her head. "It's getting clearer, but I'm still confused."
"Okay. What are you confused about?"
"Why I did it?"
"Can you answer that?"
"No, not really," she said. "No more than I can answer why Janis and I used to play doctor and feel each other up when we were seven. No deep, dark reasons. I guess we were exploring."
"Why is this different?"
"Because I'm older."
"And why would that make it different?"
"It wouldn't, I guess. Maybe it's just the word. Lesbian. It's like calling it bad."
"Why would you do that?"
"It's the whole thing again. If it's bad, it means: don't do it! But deep down, I don't think what Karen and I did was bad." She nodded her head and smiled broadly. "I can't believe I said that. What we did wasn't bad." Her eyes glazed over. "I thought if I admitted that, it would confirm I wanted to be with women. But it doesn't. Even after the experience with Jonathan, I'd like to still try to be with a boy. Not to prove anything, like with Noah, but just to relax and give myself a chance."
"How are you feeling?"
"Remember when I realized there was nothing wrong with me... that's how I feel. Freed. I want to see Karen and tell her I'm no longer afraid to be her friend. I missed her. Don't ask me why, but I really feel happy."
I put my hands up in a surrender gesture and smiled.
"Kaufman," she said, "I think I'm done. I mean finished. I don't know how to say it. I feel clear, happy. For the first time in my life, I trust me. What do you think?"
"Why do you ask?"
"I want to know if you agree with me."
"Will it matter whether I do or don't?"
She began to laugh. "No, not really. Do you have to talk to my mother first?"
"Do you want me to?"
"No, I don't think it's necessary. Right to the end, huh, Kaufman. Having me make all the decisions."
"You always decided anyway. Only now you're happier and more trusting of yourself in making those decisions."
She inhaled a deep breath and stretched her arms above her head.
"Well, since there's no diploma, how does it end, I mean, how do I leave?" she asked.
"It's customary to leave through the door," I volunteered.
Dawn's laughter ignited mine. We stood there like two little kids, shaking our heads at each other.
"Okay," she said, "but I won't say goodbye," She squeezed my hand tightly and left.
To face Dawn for the first time after two years was an exhilarating experience. Everything about her sparkled. Her thin statuesque body accented her considerable height. Her eyes danced merrily.
"I never forgot anything," Dawn declared. "I wanted you to know that; it all really stuck with me."
"I can see that in your eyes," I said.
"Thanks for tapping me on the shoulder," she whispered. We both laughed.
"Now I know why there was a traffic jam here today."
Her group of friends, waiting impatiently for her on the sidewalk, suddenly became very vocal. They called to her. Dawn motioned for them to join her. As they approached, a young man took her arm with obvious affection. "I'd like you all to meet - to meet Bears," she said as she winked. Then Dawn introduced Jesse, her boyfriend, Cal and Ted.
The girl beside Ted smiled warmly at me. Her eyes seemed moist. She glanced at Dawn, then shook my hand. "I'm Karen. It's very special for me to meet you."
"For me, too, Karen," I said.
"We really got to go," Jesse insisted. "Nice meeting you." We exchanged good byes. Though the group moved toward the sidewalk, Dawn lingered another moment.
"Karen and I use your book all the time. I even got Jesse reading it. He's really a beautiful person." Her lips parted to form a word, but she hesitated, frozen in the midst of her thought. Then she released herself. "I have something I want to send you."
Jesse shouted for her in the distance.
"Hey, thanks for sharing these couple of minutes with me," I said.
She squeezed my hand and left. I watched her walk briskly with her friends. In an uncharacteristic gesture, she looked back and waved to me. I also waved, but my focus was rudely interrupted by blaring horns. The road had been cleared and the cars had started moving. I slipped off the fender, prepared to continue my journey into the village.
A week later I received a small package from Dawn, a very special gift. It contained copies of all the entries made in her diary during the time we talked together.
