The Only Lesbian in Town

The girl, Rhiannon, is cautiously happy about the arrangement, and come Friday night she's right where I told her to be, and fifteen minutes early to boot. I advise her to take a trip to the bathroom and hold off on the liquid intake for the next hour or so, to ensure we don't need to make any unnecessary stops.

We don't talk much until we're on the highway. She's been ever so carefully inspecting me, obviously reconciling my physical image with the one she'd built up in her mind. She seems surprised that I'm so neat and tidy and that I'm wearing make-up, which is to be expected; normally I'm a bit of a grot, and Alan has no doubt told her this. However, I'm also a dyke and in the same way that straight girls dress up when they know men will be around, I dress up when a girl's around. Sure, I know she's taken. Sure, I know she's straight. But there's something hard-wired into me to look as good as possible when a woman is in the vicinity.

'You're an amazing driver,' she comments.

'Ta. Gotta be good at something.'

'I've been learning to drive, ever since I met up with Alan. He offered to teach me, but I've had my learner's permit for so long I've forgotten the road rules. My driving instructor nearly lost his mind this week.' She offers me a small smile. She's nervous, although I don't know why. All I know is that it doesn't seem to have anything to do with me. You can always tell when someone's uncomfortable around you, and she's not that. 'Your hair is great.'

'It's a nightmare,' I reply. 'I'd say your tits are great, but Al's probably told you I'm a dyke, so I don't want to scare you off. We've got almost two hours in the cab together ahead of us.'

She laughs. 'I've already given girls a whirl, so there's no innocent to get rid of.'

'I did the same with men. Gave one a whirl. Sometimes you've just got to sample what the other side's getting, just to make sure.'

Rhiannon regards me carefully. I'm guessing from the expression on her face that Alan's told her he and I slept together, and when I throw out a hint suggesting it, she quickly tells me she knows. He told her. He tells her everything, she informs me, every bit of gossip about him under the sun.

'He's just safeguarding himself,' I tell her. 'Country towns can be hotbeds of gossip.'

She chews her thumb nervously. 'Can I ask you something about him?'

'Go right ahead,' I reply, curious.

I'm expecting her to ask if I think Alan likes her, or if he'll want to get married, or maybe, what would be the best way to dump him without hurting his feelings. Instead, she blows my mind by asking me if anyone he's dated in the past has lost their job while they were dating. The company she was working for went into administration yesterday. She got told to leave, and not to expect her next pay packet.

'I have enough money to support myself,' she adds hurriedly. 'I've always known I wouldn't have enough money to buy a house, but I always tried to save some, just in case of emergencies. I'll be alright for a while, but if I don't find something in a few months I'll be on welfare. The suckiest part of my company going bust is that we got paid monthly, and my next pay was due Tuesday. I've basically worked a whole month for nothing, not to mention losing my annual leave entitlements.'

'Ouch. Did you lose your shit at them? I would've.'

'I wanted to,' she agreed. 'It was kind of hard to when other people were crying, and worrying about paying their bills, and I was just annoyed because I have to dip into my savings. I'm just...worried... about Alan. What if I don't find a new job? What if he freaks out about dating someone who's unemployed?'

'He won't.'

'You sure about that?'

'Yeah, I'm sure,' I reply confidently. 'He's not the sort of piece of shit who'd drop someone because their employers went bust, and if he did, you'd just be dodging a bullet. Life throws up all sorts of crap. You can't love someone only when things are perfect.'

Rhiannon seems immensely relieved. 'I never meant to have feelings for him. He was just supposed to be a one night stand.'

'It's okay. We've already established I used him for sex, too.'

'That's kind of funny, isn't it? I wonder if any other women have gone to him for sex and nothing else.'

Before I can reply, a phone call comes through to me. It's the folks I'm meant to be collecting from. They're running late, an hour late in fact, and want to know if I can hold off.

The only items in my trailer are a fertiliser delivery for their farm, and they're the only ones I'm collecting from, so I tell them it's no issue. Both they and I are little guys, working hard to try and eke out a living.

I call Alan and tell him I've got a bit of time to kill. Does he want to meet Rhiannon and I at my parent's pub? Maybe have a bit of a chat?

'Sure,' he agrees. 'Thanks Sunny.'

'No worries, Al. Hey, your girlfriend and I were talking and we had a question. How many women have come to you for sex, sex and only sex in your life?'

He laughs, embarrassed. 'There's only two of them and you're sitting beside one of them.'

I glance over at Rhiannon and give her an evil grin. 'So, who would the other one be, Al?'

There's a pause. He's shitting himself, wondering if I'm mad that he told his girlfriend that he slept with me. Then there's another, embarrassed, laugh.

'Fuck you, Sunny,' he swears. 'You like making me suffer?'

Rhiannon and I burst into laughter.

'Aw, shit,' he remarks. 'I've got only myself to blame for this, don't I?'

'Yep,' I agree. 'See you in an hour or so, mate. And by the way, Rhiannon's employer went bust yesterday. Be good to her, huh?'

'I will,' he assures us. Then he makes a public message to his girlfriend. 'Rhi, I'm sorry to hear that. That's a pretty tough break. Don't let it go you down, though. Shit happens.'

Alan seems as unconcerned about her unemployment as I thought he'd be. There's just no other way to say it; he's a genuine sort of person. If self-described 'nice guys' hadn't ruined the word 'nice', that's how I'd describe him.

An hour and a half later we pull up outside the pub. Alan is in the carpark waiting for us, and when he and Rhiannon catch sight of each other, their eyes light up and my presence is immediately forgotten. I leave them to do all of that new-couple-I-could-hump-your-leg-I'm-so-horny business, and go inside.

My first delivery of the night complete, I take the opportunity to pee, check my make-up -- it's making my face itch but admittedly it does look nice -- and check in on my parents.

'She's here,' my father says, veritably pushing me out from behind the bar. 'Kara. Go out and say 'hello'.'

Oh, Kara. The other lesbian. The one that seemingly everyone seems I should be hooking up with.

'There,' my father says, pointing her out with none of the discretion he's not known for. Blunt? The man's a sledgehammer. 'Go.'

Kara is a little shorter than my five foot eight, but very thin. She's both a lesbian and a nurse, so it's probably not too surprising that her clothing is sensible but she looks good in her summer dress and sandals.

The woman she's sitting with nudges her and points in my direction. I plant a smile on my face and walk over. Well, here goes nothing, right?

The couple gets up and leaves as I arrive. They're giving us space, which I both appreciate and am embarrassed about. Kara, too, seems a little anxious.

'I finally get to meet the other lesbian,' she jokes. 'Everyone tells me about you.'

'Well, to be fair, I'm not the only other lesbian. There are others, they're just partnered already, and mostly very quiet about their relationships,' I admit. 'It was just a bit of a joke when I came out. I became 'the' lesbian.'

'That must've been fun. Coming out, out here.'

'It wasn't too bad. I think my family helped. They shielded me from the local fundies, the sorts who organise all of the pro-life and evangelical billboards you see up around here.' I take a glance at her glass. 'Would you like a drink?'

'No, thanks, I was only on diet Cokes. I need to go to work soon.' She smiles at me, quickly. 'You?'

'I have to get back in my truck soon and go out to Dalby. I'm sticking to water.' I smile back at her. 'What made you move to Oakey?'

'Bad break-up a few months ago,' she explains. 'I'm only an enrolled nurse, not a registered one, so paying rent on my own has always been hard. I thought I'd try and find a job somewhere regional, where rent is affordable, and I could make a fresh start. Oakey was quick to give me a job and sell me the benefits of living out here, so I took a chance and went for it.'

'And instead you had people questioning your sexuality left, right and centre.'

She laughs again. 'Yeah, they wasted no time doing that, and no time telling me to come here and meet you. I felt like a crazy lesbo coming down here in the hopes of meeting someone I knew nothing about.'

'Me too! And yet here I am.' I glance around to make sure no one's listening to closely. We're getting plenty of attraction -- really, throw two young dykes in a public bar together on a Friday night and it's probably to be expected -- but I know if I lower my voice, no one will hear. 'Do you ever think straight people will never understand how exciting it is when you're a lesbian and you finally meet another lesbian?'

'For sure! I actually want to touch you to make sure you're real.'

We both hold out our fingers and touch each other at exactly the same time. Then we both laugh, and as we're laughing, her phone buzzes, and she reaches regretfully reaches into her purse and grimaces at the screen.

'I need to go to work,' she informs me. 'I, uh, know we just met, but would it be rude to ask for your number? I'd love to catch up. Just to have a chat or whatever you feel like.'

What I feel like? I want to feel her.

'Sure,' I reply. 'Sounds great.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I have a two day break in the middle of the week, so I head up to my parent's hotel early on Wednesday morning. They again remind me that they want to retire, and suggest I look at moving back 'home'. I resist as much as I can without offending them. I'm still not sure I want this. Why don't they ask my brother's, for fuck's sake? Why me? Why am I the one who's expected to take over?

At lunchtime, I head to the farm Alan manages to whinge to him. He listens carefully as he shares his food with me, and between his company and the ham, cheese and potato chip on multigrain bread sandwich he's made for me, it's impossible to stay mad.

'I'll stop now,' I assure him. 'I know I sound pathetic and spoiled.'

'No, you don't sound anything like that. It's a bit rough to have them expect you to give up your life and career so you can run the pub and earn them an income,' he replies diplomatically. 'It's one thing to offer you the opportunity, but if your answer is 'no', that's your answer.'

He uses a utility knife to cut up an apple, and offers me a piece. His hands are rough and darkly tanned, and his faded blue work shirt is heavy with his sweat. It's thirty-nine degrees Celsius and whatever deodorant he's using has failed in it's battle against odour, but I don't hold it against him. He works hard.

The only thing that bothers me is Rhiannon. From what I saw of her, she was an exceptionally well-groomed woman. Nice nails, perfect make-up, coordinated outfit, everything in order. Sure, she seemed to like him but how long will it be until the novelty wears off? I don't want to see Alan get hurt.

'How was your dirty weekend with Rhiannon?' I inquire cautiously.

'Good.'

'Good?' I elbow him in the ribs. 'What's that supposed to mean?'

He ducks his head and laughs. 'You know how it is.'

'You like this girl, huh?'

He looks away. 'Yeah. What'd you think of her? You spent a few hours with her.'

'Seems nice. Very pretty. Great rack.'

'She's learning to drive. She said once she's got her license, so she can find a job out here, she's happy to come and live with me.'

'Wow. That's gotten serious, fast. How long you been seeing her?'

'Five weeks.'

'I'm impressed. You two could almost be lesbians.'

He laughs. 'Yeah, well, I hope it works out. We'll see how it goes. Can't do much more than hope sometimes.'

'I have my fingers crossed for you.'

Alan gives me a cheeky grin. 'Speaking of your fingers, are you planning on putting them in a certain nurse's lady garden?'

'Only if she lets me. We're going out to dinner tonight.'

'Where are you taking her?'

'Toowoomba. Away from prying eyes.'

'Smart move,' he agrees. 'Saves you some of the embarrassment if it all falls over in a heap.'

We're both quiet, thinking back to doomed relationships, and the inevitable questions that the local nosey parkers enjoyed asking. Times where you just wanted to lay in bed and cry, but had to force a smile and make up stupid excuses as to why your partner left you.

'Maybe this time everything'll work out for both of us,' he remarks.

'Maybe. Maybe you'll end up getting married and finally having some kids.'

'And maybe you'll give all the local blokes something to whack off to as they imagine you and Kara doing sexy girl things to each other,' he grins.

I'd love to stay longer, but he needs to get back to work, and I need to get back to the hotel to help the folks before it's time for me to scrub up and head out.

I've taken my car, not my truck, but my car is obviously still recognisable to the locals. I park on the side of the main road and am in the process of retrieving my overnight bag from the boot when a car full of jackasses flies by, windows open. One of the passengers throws a bottle of Coke at me, and another screams at me to get out of town.

Remember what I said about 'largely' avoiding small town homophobia? Yeah. Sometimes it just comes up and sprays you with a sugary, caffeinated liquid, leaving your pride stinging and your heart sore. I don't see why my being a lesbian should offend anyone, least of all to the point where they need to throw things at me and yell at me to fuck off out of town.

Sometimes this shit leaves me balled up in my bed, crying, and at other times it makes me angry, but today, I just push it out of my mind. Don't think about it, don't think about it, don't think about it, I tell myself. Get ready for your date. Knock her socks off. If you can do that, too, then maybe you'll be able to remove more than just her socks.

I battle my hair. I shave everywhere below the neck. I even put make-up on again. At this rate, I might just make it through a tube of lipstick some time this century. I've spent a lot of time stressing about what to wear this week, but I've settled on jeans, heels and a nice top, and as I get into my outfit, I have to admit, I'm looking as good as I could hope. Sure, the heels don't quite match the shirt -- the only reason I have them was that I was roped into being a bridesmaid and they were part of the outfit -- and my lipstick's a wee bit bright, but the overall effect is okay.

'You look gorgeous,' my Mum tells me. 'Are you staying here tonight?'

'Maybe.'

She hugs me. 'I love you so much, honey. Have a really nice night.'

'I will.'

And I'm optimistic. I drive into Toowoomba, excited about meeting up with Kara. She was cute and friendly and she seemed to be quite interested in meeting me, and hanging out with me, so what could go wrong?

When I arrive at the restaurant five minutes early, I'm not surprised she's not there. I wait out the front, fiddling with my phone, wondering if my parents will have enough bandaids to cover my feet which are already aching, and try to reapply some lipstick.

After ten minutes I check to see if she's texted me. Nope. I'm slightly annoyed, but as I've said, lesbians are thin on the ground, so my standards are pretty lax. I'll forgive a lot. When she's twenty minutes late I try texting her. Nothing. And, when she's officially half an hour late, I'm starting to get cranky, and I try calling her. Her phone diverts to voicemail.

I worry that maybe she's been in an accident, or maybe I just got the details messed up. I check the traffic reports but there's no issues at all, let alone a serious vehicle crash. Then I check her Facebook page. After we'd exchanged numbers on Saturday, she called me and we texted back and forth. She friended me on Facebook, and I, her.

When we set up a date, she announced it in a post. Now, I'm not the sort of person who posts a lot on social media, but I thought 'whatever'. I commented that I was looking forward to it and confirmed the details in the comments. I open her Facebook page, hoping to find this post, and check that I'm at the right place on the right date, at the right time, but I'm instead confronted with her latest missive.

She's in a relationship. With her ex. She's quit her job in Oakey and moved back to Oakey, as of this morning.

Great. Fucking great. Here I was worrying about Alan getting his heart broken, and I can't even get the only dyke in town to meet me for dinner.

I try not to cry as I get in my car, yank off my heels and wipe off my lipstick.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You remember what Alan said, about the embarrassment of everyone learning about your love life disasters? Yeah. It's shit. It's really fucking shit.

Everyone has a thought, an opinion, something to say. I try and stay in Brisbane as much as I can to avoid it. Two weeks pass and I've unfriended Kara and removed her number from my phone, not that she ever bothered to contact me to apologise. Bitch.

Alan's the only one with an ounce of tact, and when he contacts me, he entirely avoids the subject of Kara. I answer his phone call, expecting to be asked if I can take Rhiannon out to Oakey again, but he has a very different idea in mind.

'I'm staying at Rhiannon's flat this weekend,' he tells me. 'Some of her friends meet up for dinner every month. Same restaurant, same time, the whole thing is apparently very casual. I think it's pretty local to you, so would you like to come along?'

'Where and when?' I inquire, hoping that the location and time won't suit me.

'Graceville, this Saturday night, at six.'

Shit. Graceville is within easy driving distance of my flat at Rocklea, and I have no plans for the night. I try to rummage up an excuse while Alan patiently waits for my answer.

'Al, won't it be weird if I just show up?' I ask.

'Rhiannon said it'll be fine. She's actually the one who invited you.'

'Oh fuck. Someone told her about Kara, didn't they? And now she feels sorry for me.'

Alan is dumbstruck. 'Well, kind of,' he admits. 'How did you know?'

'I'm a woman, and I'm a lesbian. I know how we think.'

He chuckles at that. 'Fair enough. You want to come?'

I groan. 'I'll be the pity guest.'

'It's better than being than me. I get to be the new boyfriend, introduced to a bunch of women who've known Rhiannon all her life.'

It's my turn to laugh. 'You poor thing.'

'I'm going to get picked apart,' he agrees.

'You worried about this?'

'Shitting myself,' he admits.

'Okay,' I agree. 'I'll come with you and hold your hand. I can be your dyke friend. Like, when gay men have fag hags. You can be my.... I'm not sure there's a word for it, actually.'

'Lesbo loser?'

'No, that doesn't work. I'll have to google it.'

He hangs up and I almost immediately regret agreeing to go. I can just imagine everyone being thrilled to see Rhiannon's new boyfriend's trucker lesbian friend. What's even worse is that if Rhiannon's inviting me because she pities me -- which she does -- then all of her friends will know that I'm the sad, pathetic dyke who got stood up.

I'm actually planning on cancelling, right up until Saturday lunchtime. I'm at my parent's pub again, helping out, when one of the dipshits who's three sheets to the wind starts telling me how I'm going to go to hell. This time, there's no craggy-faced, gentle but firm, Luke around to help me out. Instead, I'm stuck listening to an inebriated sixty-something year old waxing lyrical about my evil ways.