Butch Ch. 01

In the rear corner of the bar, near the jukebox, voices were being raised. Ryan continued her game, keeping her ears tuned to what was going on. She could see Meg, an alcoholic who had an excuse for everything. She wasn’t exactly yelling, but certainly seemed angry at someone. She had stood up; others were getting involved. Ryan shook her head, lining up another shot. But her eye caught a glance of someone who looked very familiar—that blonde woman…in the dress, the sandals. Oh she doesn’t belong here. But how do I know her?

Meg is telling someone to ‘shut the fuck up’. This could get ugly, as Meg isn’t exactly a small person. With a few drinks, emotions run high as well. Ryan sets down her cue, looking over at Sadie, whose usually-grinning face has turned stone cold.

‘Everything OK over there?’ Sadie asks slowly, a slight threat in her voice. She pauses, holding the bar towel and tumbler she was drying.

Meg looks back at her, smirking. ‘Everything would be great if certain people would just take it easy,’ she says, looking at the blonde woman, then over at a couple at the next table over.

Sadie looks at Ryan, who gives a slight nod. Ryan walks over to the table at which Meg is standing. Ryan smiles softly, patting Meg lightly on the shoulder. She glances briefly at the blonde, who is now staring at Ryan, then over at the couple seated at the adjacent table.

‘Long time no see, Meg,’ Ryan says sincerely, her tired eyes trying their best to express warmth, understanding. ‘How’s work going?’

Meg, distracted by Ryan’s question, has calmed down a bit. ‘Hey, kid. Good to see you,’ she says, rustling Ryan’s hair. ‘Got laid off about a month ago…’ she takes a drink of her whisky, almost waiting for a sympathetic reaction from Ryan. Not this time. ‘Thinking of going union now…protect myself from shit like this,’ she nods toward the pink slip in her coat pocket. Meg then throws back the rest of her drink, setting the glass on the table, in front of Kate.

On the table is a portfolio, three highball glasses which had contained Tom Collins at one point, as well as Meg’s new addition of her empty whisky tumbler. Kate looks as bad as she feels. Her eyes are heavy, the voice of that large woman frightens her so much, and she keeps looking to Ryan…thinking, hoping ‘this person will help me’.

‘Times are hard,’ Ryan begins.

‘You should have just left her alone,’ chimes in the brunette femme at the next table, glaring at Meg. She and her butch lover had gotten involved when Meg was raising her voice. ‘She’s clearly not interested in…your kind,’ she says with a slight sneer.

Meg turns to face the slim brunette, then eyes her butch reproachfully. The lover turns to the femme, lowering her voice.

‘Take it easy, Lea,’ she says. Her voice is higher than expected, given her tall frame, conservative haircut, and dark stony eyes. She is wearing a men’s suit, well-tailored. Monica placed her hand on Lea’s leg, which had the effect of Lea curling up against her, away from the trouble that was anticipated. Monica is not afraid of Meg, but doesn’t want to start a scene that is unwarranted.

Ryan looks to Kate, who looks down and gathers her things when Ryan’s eyes meet hers.

‘Are you alright?’ she asks softly.

Kate looks up drowsily. She sees the fatigue and genuine concern in Ryan’s eyes. For this she is appreciative, but there is something else. Something so striking, so intangible.

‘I…I think I need to go,’ she stammers, knocking over a highball glass as she picks up her portfolio. Sadie, clearly annoyed, looks over. Meg, feeling slighted yet full of false pride, picks up her coat. She gives Kate a clumsy wink, muttering something about ‘prissy bitches’ on her way out the door.

Ryan picks up the cracked glass, placing it gently onto the couple’s table. She looks at Kate. ‘Can I call you a cab or something?’ she offers.

Kate stands, swaying slightly as she tries her footing. ‘I actually…drove here,’ she responds, somewhat amazed by the fact. Holding her keys in her hand, her portfolio under her arm, she looks to Ryan. What now?

‘We can give her a ride,’ Monica offers, Lea jabbing her in the ribs as she says this. She looks at Lea, completing her thought. ‘She can catch a cab and get her car in the morning.’

Kate doesn’t like this idea, and Ryan sees this in her face.

‘No,’ Ryan argues, ‘the car’ll be towed if she leaves it overnight. Unless she’s parked in the residential…but that’s blocks from here. I could…’

‘Could you drive me?’ Kate interrupts, looking at Ryan. She lowers her eyes after asking.

At this Monica gives Ryan a raise of her eyebrows, a sly smile. Ryan sighs. She just wanted a couple beers, to shoot a few balls…not to play chauffeur for girls on the wrong side of town. Still though, she was curious as to how she knew Kate, if she knew her. She just looked so familiar.

‘Sure, I’ll take you home,’ Ryan offers, holding her hand out to take the keys. Their fingers touched momentarily as the keys were exchanged. They both felt something mysterious in the slight touch, as they looked up at one another. But when their eyes met, they both looked awkwardly away. Kate, clearly drunk, thought for sure she felt herself flush. Ryan cleared her throat, giving the keys a jangle in her hand. Lea, smiling demurely, picked up on this silent exchange.

‘Shall we?’ asked Ryan, nervously touching the back of her own neck. She smiled at the couple, then looked at Kate, allowing her to walk ahead of her.

As Kate walked beside the bar, toward the door, Ryan eyed her over quickly. Beautiful figure…small frame. They were about the same size, though she’s obviously more feminine in her mannerisms. Nice taste in clothes…that dress is probably D&G, shoes maybe Jimmy Choo. She knew them all…many of these femmes were so alike. Ryan could see others checking out the petite blonde as well, then giving her triumphant, almost congratulatory smiles. Ryan’s face remained serious though, as she was annoyed at having to leave early. It was only 12:45. She lays a 20 dollar bill on the bar as she walks by.

‘Take care, Ry,’ Sadie calls to her from behind the bar as Ryan holds the door open for Kate. ‘Don’t be such a stranger.’ Ryan smiles, and closes the door.

The summer night air is chilly, as Kate is noticeably shivering. Ryan offers her sweatshirt, but Kate politely declines. They are walking beside one another, though Kate is slightly ahead, as she hasn’t told Ryan which car is hers. Kate approaches the Chevy. Ryan stops, smiling broadly.

‘This is your car?’ she asks, unable to match the girl with the ride. She was expecting an Audi, maybe a little Mercedes coupe…

‘Yeah,’ Kate says softly. ‘Something I’ve always wanted.’

‘Very nice. I’ve always wanted a classic myself,’ Ryan says, unlocking Kate’s door and letting her in. She has a skip in her step as she goes around to the driver’s side. Easing onto the comfy bench seat, she slides the key into the ignition. Ryan pauses to take delight in every detail of the car—the slightly cracked speedometer, paint chipping from the steering wheel, wear and tear of the upholstery, the ‘Bel Air’ insignia on the dash. Kate, though quiet, relishes this moment…how Ryan takes such an interest in the car, how much she truly seems to appreciate its antiquity, its defects.

‘Actually…if you don’t mind, I’ll take you up on your sweatshirt,’ she says as Ryan turns the ignition. ‘There’s no heater, and the back window is cracked.’

Ryan looks over, almost forgetting where she was. But she obliges immediately, pulling it over her head in one motion. Underneath, she is wearing a white undershirt…good thing she had brought a clean one to change into after work.

‘Here you go,’ Ryan says, handing over the hoodie. They touch again lightly as Kate accepts it. She feels herself flush again, but this time looks at Ryan to see her reaction. In that cute nervous fashion, she is touching her neck.

‘So,’ Ryan starts, ‘where are we headed?’

Holding the sweatshirt, Kate briefly imagines this as a date situation. It’s a surprisingly pleasant thought to her. ‘I live on Noe, right off Market,’ she replies.

Of course you do, Ryan thinks. Turning her head, she smiles to herself.

Kate slips the hoodie over her head, immediately feeling the warmth of Ryan’s body, smelling the sweet, yet bold scent of what she is sure is men’s cologne (but which one?). She settles into it, giving a little smirk at her dress below…the mismatch of fabric and fashion. She looks over to see Ryan’s hand on the wheel, her arm resting on the ledge of the door. Her arms are smooth, so sleek and defined. She holds the wheel so easily, gently. Yet she is in total control. Her hands…Kate looks carefully at her hands. The nails are quite short, but neatly cut. The skin looks smooth, yet there are a few small scars, and what appear to be burns. Is this woman a mechanic? A handyman? Her overall frame is small. Even as she pushes the pedals, she can see Ryan is thin. Yet her physique seems so strong. That t-shirt barely hides the erect nipples of her small breasts. Does she even wear a…?

‘Are you OK?’ Ryan asks slowly, very aware of Kate’s eyes wandering over her body.

‘Oh…yes. Sorry,’ she clumsily replies. ‘I was just noticing that burn on your hand…it seems like it hurts.’

Ryan glances at her, then at her hand briefly. Eyes back on the road, she remarks, ‘Happened today…I always heal quickly though.’ She smiles at Kate, again getting that feeling that she knows her from somewhere. ‘I’m sorry…I don’t even know your name.’

‘Kate,’ she responds. ‘And you’re…Ryan? Is that your…real name?’

‘Yeah,’ Ryan sniggers. ‘My parents wanted a boy.’

In unison, they both say ‘It’s nice to meet you.’ Kate looks out her window, smiling. Ryan smiles also as they stop at a light.

‘So…’ Ryan begins, tapping the wheel with her left hand. ‘Was Meg giving you a hard time in there?’

‘Not really. I just prefer people who are more…She’s just not my…’ Kate struggles, thinking of a good way to put it.

‘Too butch for you?’ Ryan offers, looking at her briefly. This girl really WAS in the wrong bar. She steps gently on the gas as the traffic eases along the road.

‘Yeah, something like that,’ Kate responds almost embarrassed. But was that it? Meg’s whole personality wasn’t appealing to Kate, despite the fact that she wasn’t attracted to her. Though Kate had always dated femme women before; the alternative never really seemed worth exploring. Too many stereotypes, perhaps.

‘Meg’s harmless,’ Ryan continues, ‘She may be a little overexpressive at times, offer too much information, but she’s got a good heart in the end. She’d never hurt anyone.’

‘I guess I just wanted some time alone,’ Kate says, immediately wondering why she said that. That wasn’t why she went to the bar. She had tried going home after leaving Kim’s, but couldn’t sit still. She had driven by Violets in the past, wondering what it was like inside. And tonight her curiosity finally got the better of her…she was definitely open to meeting someone. But not someone like Meg….

‘Sounds like you had a bad night,’ Ryan half-consoles, not wanting to ask too much of the situation.

After a pause, Kate replies, ‘It started out nice. Went to The Nines for dinner…’

‘The Nines!’ Ryan absentmindedly interrupts. That’s it! Ryan thinks to herself, remembering peeking into the dining room and seeing Kate at Ben Sklar’s table. That’s where I know her from!

Kate looks at Ryan, who runs her long fingers through her black hair as she drives on. Why did she just blurt out like that?

‘Have you been there?’ Kate asks, eyeing Ryan curiously.

‘You sound so surprised that I know the place,’ Ryan says defensively. But then she remembers that she’s wearing jeans and a white undershirt, not to mention that old sweatshirt she lent Kate….it probably costs a tenth of what the dress she’s wearing does.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply that…’ Kate apologizes.

‘No, no,’ Ryan laughs, ‘it’s OK. I actually…’ she tries to explain her affiliation, but Kate cuts her off.

‘Isn’t the food there absolutely amazing?’ she starts. ‘I had the grilled salmon tonight…it was fabulous. And these potatoes…’ Kate beams.

Ryan smiles to herself, pleased that she had been part of the crew to make it so.

The car makes a right onto Noe, and Ryan slows a bit, waiting to hear which building is Kate’s. Parking always seems to be a problem around here.

‘I’m in that one with the blue trim around the windows,’ Kate says, pointing to a three-story building. ‘Oh, take that space right there!’

Ryan pulls into the surprisingly vacant spot right outside the building. Kate gets out first. Ryan is about to shut the driver’s door when she notices Kate’s portfolio in the backseat.

‘Do you need that?’ she says, pointing through the window.

‘Oh, yes,’ Kate gasps. ‘Could you grab it for me?’ She feels so foolish that this situation even occurred. What was she thinking going to that bar, letting this stranger drive her car? Yet Ryan has been so kind about it, so generous. She watches Ryan bend into the backseat to retrieve the case. She really does look like a guy from the back, but her features still have a delicate quality to them. Kate turns and goes up the steps as Ryan shuts and locks the car door.

Ryan holds the handle of the portfolio case, carrying it gently up the steps to the building. Kate is now in possession of the keys, trying to find the one to the main door.

‘Do you mind if I come up to call a cab?’ Ryan asks, figuring it’s the least Kate can offer. ‘I don’t have my cell on me tonight.’ Her thin t-shirt does little to shelter her body from the cold air; she wraps her arms casually around herself. She glances at the Tag Heuer on her wrist…1:10. Guess it’ll be an early night tonight.

‘Of course you can,’ Kate replies, their eyes meeting over her shoulder. What is it that is so remarkable, so drawing about this woman? She opens the main door of her building, holding it open for Ryan to follow. They ascend the two flights of stairs to third floor apartment. On the second flight, a man raises an eyebrow to Kate, nodding a brief hello. Kate returns the greeting in a mumble.

She struggles with her keys at the door, dropping them nervously. Ryan stands behind her patiently, wondering if she’s really going to be calling a cab or if this is leading into something much more interesting. She smiles to herself.

Upon entering the apartment, Kate moves around frantically--turning on lights, rustling, apologizing for the place being so messy. Ryan steps inside glancing down the hallway, noticing books and papers in piles on a desk, but no real mess. She expected Kate’s décor to be more frilly, but it’s rather minimalist. She turns to go into the kitchen, where Kate is standing by the sink.

‘Everything OK?’ Ryan asks, somewhat confused. She can see a vague reflection of Kate’s face in the window above the sink. That sweatshirt looks almost comical on her body—such a bulky mass over a delicate figure. Kate’s shoulders shake slightly, her head bowing slightly. She nods unconvincingly.

Ryan sets the portfolio down against the wall, walking over to Kate. She’s never known exactly how to react to someone who is crying, especially a stranger, over a situation entirely unknown. Ryan lifts her hands gently, about to place them on Kate’s shoulders, but thinks twice about it. Kate turns around, eyes teary and red. She smiles into Ryan’s confused countenance, shaking her head.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Kate begins, ‘You were so nice to help me at the bar and drive me home and now I’m so…’ Her quiet sobbing takes over again and she is unable to speak. Ryan is suddenly moved by Kate’s overwhelming emotion, no longer thinking her lecherous thoughts. She brushes a tear off Kate’s cheek, touching her face lightly.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ asks Ryan softly. Kate holds Ryan’s hand to her cheek, strangely comforted by her touch, the warmth of her skin. Ryan moves her hand to Kate’s shoulder, moving closer to her, hugging her. They are both silently shocked and yet comforted in this gesture. Kate wraps her arms around Ryan, feeling her strong, small frame through that flimsy white t-shirt. She burrows her head slightly into Ryan’s neck, feeling the contrast of her hairline with her smooth neck. She closes her eyes in this emotional haze, the scent of Ryan’s cologne making her feel so safe, so close.

‘I just...don’t understand some people,’ Kate muffles into her neck.

Ryan squeezes Kate against her, her arms enveloping Kate’s frame over the sweatshirt. ‘Sounds like someone really hurt you’ Ryan whispers. Kate pulls away, wiping her eyes.

‘I’m so sorry, Ryan. I know you just came up to use the phone. I really didn’t mean to drag you into this,’ Kate smiles, thinking how bizarre this must all seem.

Ryan, surprised at this sudden nonchalance in Kate, smiles back. ‘It’s really alright. If you’d like to talk about it, I can stay for a bit.’ Though she still doesn’t understand what the exact issue is, Ryan thinks back to when she was coming out, how she struggled with her first relationships, with her own feelings.

Kate looks at Ryan, perhaps determining if this is a sincere offer or if she’s merely being polite. Something in those eyes say that everything is right about this.

‘Can I make you some coffee or tea or something?’ she asks.

‘How about I do it?’ Ryan suggests, realizing the oddity in the request given that this is not her kitchen. Kate hesitates, smiling. But she consents, telling Ryan where all can be found. Tea, kettle, sugar and honey.

‘Something on your stomach would be good too, yeah?’ asks Ryan, filling the kettle and placing it on the stove.

‘What?’ asks Kate.

‘Are you hungry?’

‘A little, yeah. But it’s okay, you don’t have to…’

‘I’d like to, Kate,’ says Ryan, walking to the fridge. Kate sits at the small kitchen table, watching Ryan peer into the fridge. She briefly imagines this domestic situation—living with a woman, having a meal together. Of course it would be different than this right now. Ryan removes a few ingredients: eggs, milk, butter. From the cupboards she produces bread, vanilla, cinnamon, maple syrup. A frying pan from the cabinet near the stove. Fork, spatula from a drawer.

The kettle whistles violently. Kate moves to turn off the stove, but her hand meets Ryan’s, who’s naturally inclined to control every kitchen event as it happens.

‘Sorry,’ they both say, smiling. Ryan looks away nervously, noticing the picture above the kitchen table. It’s an impressionist painting—a male chef in uniform.

‘Is that a Soutine?’ Ryan asks, nodding toward the picture while mixing the eggs and milk in a shallow dish.

Kate, still standing near the stove, looks at the replica painting, then incredulously at Ryan. ‘You know Soutine?’

‘Well, not personally, but I knowThe Pastry Cook,’ says Ryan, looking up at Kate briefly. She turns to heat the pan on the stove, then to the cupboard to grab a plate. ‘Does that come as a shock to you?’

‘Oh…no. Well, a little,’ Kate stammers, afraid that she came off as condescending. ‘He’s just not the most well-known; I was just surprised that you recognized the print.’

The pan steams and sizzles as Ryan places the battered bread into it. ‘You seem to be quite involved with art,’ says Ryan, adding tea leaves to two infusers. She places them gingerly into the mugs with water, allowing them to steep.

Kate notices Ryan’s agility in the kitchen. ‘Actually, I’m paid to know a lot about art. I’m a dealer.’ She watches Ryan’s wrist jerk, flipping the bread in the pan, another sizzle erupting as it comes into contact with the heated metal. ‘That smells wonderful.’

‘Not very gourmet, I’m afraid,’ says Ryan, looking over her shoulder at Kate. ‘But I figured French toast would make you feel a bit better.’