Claudia

"What?" I had no idea what she was talking about.

"Oh, don't give me that. You know!"

But I didn't. "I haven't a clue what you're talking about."

Sue stared at me with fire in her eyes, I had never seen her so mad. "Before Jennifer showed up, you were all smiles, leaning into Claudia, you couldn't have been happier. But when you saw Jen, you sprang away from Claudia, ignoring her, not even introducing her. I had to do it. That wonderful woman was just crushed. I thought she was going to cry. I thought I was going to cry." I was trying to make sense of her words as I watched her fight to control herself. "If you're just using Claudia, if you're just playing with her, spending a little harmless lesbian time, I'll be disgusted with you, Lor, absolutely disgusted. In case you hadn't noticed, that woman absolutely adores you and you go and treat her like that."

I saw only a brief glimpse of Claudia as she approached the table, then her image dissolved in my tears.

My eyes were still wet as I stared out the window of the cab, trying to make sense of Sue's words. I was unaware of what I had done, but I had no doubt that Sue was right. I had no doubt that at my first confrontation with a friend I had tried to hide Claudia, had tried to pretend she didn't exist. I couldn't look at her. I felt a deep, painful shame. I had never intended this. But it had happened. Sue was right in everything she said. Was I just playing with Claudia, spending a little harmless lesbian time? The words had stung. I wasn't absolutely sure they weren't true.

"What a contrast," I said, as I flopped into the chair in the living room. "From absolute joy to absolute despair."

Claudia pulled the pillow next to me, sat down and hugged my legs to her. "It's OK, Laura, I understand. This isn't easy for you, I know it isn't."

"No, it isn't OK, Claudia. It's a lot of things but one of them isn't that it's OK. It isn't, not for me and certainly not for you." When she looked up at me I began to cry again. I never used to cry. Ever. Not since my children were born. But life with Claudia had changed that. Perhaps she thought I deserved to cry, or needed to. Whatever, she let me. She just hugged my legs and let me cry. It was the right thing to do.

We had been in a store two days ago, picking up some vegetables. I was inspecting some broccoli when I looked up to see someone inspecting me, a woman with a knowing smirk on her face. Then I felt Claudia by my side, leaning into me as she does and I looked back at the woman. I was surprised by my reaction. I felt a thrill shoot through me. I had always wanted to be different, but never had been. White, good looking, well built, three kids, handsome husband, dog — people just walked on by me as if I was a statistic. The woman's stare was exciting. I kissed Claudia lightly on the cheek, hoping she was still watching.

So what was different with Jennifer? Well, the difference was obvious. I knew Jennifer, and she knew me. The difference was the proverbial line in the sand. I hadn't crossed it. Why? Was it lack of courage or lack of commitment?

"I don't know," she said, when I asked Claudia, "only you can answer that question."

She was right and I didn't sleep that night thinking about it.

On Monday morning I thought she would put up more of a fuss then she did, but she dutifully got into the clothes I had laid out for her, perhaps because she didn't want to do anything to upset me. She knew I was dealing with something important to us, to her and to me.

She looked lovely, absolutely lovely — and so different. She had always had a pretty face, but her shapeless clothing had washed out any possible allure. Her new clothes dealt with that, and her legs, which were gorgeous, gave her a startling sexiness. I kissed her before she left and she agreed to meet me for lunch.

If Friday was donut day, the bunch of us made Blue Monday less blue with a festive congregation at a rather rustic chili joint around the corner. Claudia met me outside the resstaurant on time. We walked in together. I wasn't dreading it, I was excited, really excited. I was about to cross a line and I was thrilled to see I didn't need resolve, didn't need determination. I had her by the arm, walked up to the table and announced, without any hint of defiance, I didn't care what they thought, didn't care what they had to say: "This is Claudia. I'm absolutely in love with her and she's agreed to be my partner."

They thought I was kidding, of course, why wouldn't they, but not for long, not after seeing the glow grow on Claudia's face, and mine, too.

I could see Sue through my tears. She was crying, like Claudia.

Later, when I thought about the moment I had introduced Claudia to my friends, it occurred to me that I had felt the same way once before, a long time ago, when I had announced to my friends that I was pregnant. That's the way I felt when I introduced Claudia, as if the news couldn't possibly be better.