Chapter 4

Lee Harvey Oswald was arrested and I memorized his face, determined that I should never forget it although at the time there was still some doubt as to if he was the sole shooter. Over the last few hours there had been eyewitness accounts of shots being fired from the grassy knoll overlooking Dealey Plaza.

“So that’s the man?” Michelle sat down next to me.

“Assuming he’s guilty then oui,” she murmured, “they were saying there could be others out there now, his associates.”

“I think it’s the Reds,” I dabbed at my eyes, “to pay us back for the quarantine.”

“Perhaps,” she lit a cigarette, “but doubtful, he spoke of détente with the Soviets, so why would the KGB assassinate the first President since Roosevelt to offer up an olive branch?”

“I don’t know,” I confessed, “but they tried to kill De Gaulle.”

“The OAS were not communists, they were French Algerians,” she drew on the cigarette.

“This is something else, they are trying to blame Castro but this is too big for Fidel Castro. I fear they will use this as an excuse to invade Cuba.”

“Maybe they should,” I sank back against the back of the couch.

“Come,” Michelle put an arm around me, “my shoulders are waterproof.”

A good thing because I shed more tears that night and when exhaustion finally claimed me I crawled into her bed not mine. There was no suggestiveness in her offer and nothing happened that night except for the novelty of sleeping totally naked. Michelle had always slept naked, something I found strangely exciting and odd, tonight she let me snuggle up to her and we talked some more until finally I fell asleep.

Despite the tragedy I slept soundly. I woke sometime in the middle of the night to find her with her back to me and acting more on instinct I curled myself against her back and put my arm around her. She grabbed my hand and put it on her breast, which at any other time would have raised the alarm but tonight it felt natural, as if this was the way it should have been. I woke the next morning to find her out of bed and heard a male voice in the living room. Thinking it was a neighbor or maybe her father I just lay in bed until he left and she came through with my dressing gown.

“Oh, you’re awake,” she tossed the garment on the bed, “that was George stopping by to see if you’re all right,” she sat on the bed and lit a cigarette.

“He also said he would be staying home tonight.”

“So no dancing for me,” I sat up slowly and reached for the garment.

“There is always time for dancing,” she smiled impishly, “get dressed and we will see what this sad day brings. War has not been declared, the sun is shining and I am hungry.”

It occurred to me as I stood under the shower that I hadn’t eaten much last night although I wasn’t really in the mood. Other things came back to me about last night as well. Michelle’s outlook on the tragedy was far more logical than mine, in some ways it was almost mannish. She raised questions that the media are only now starting to ask. Why was he riding in an open limousine in a city known to be hostile to the Democrats? Why didn’t someone scout out the route beforehand? She knew a great deal about government protocols thanks to her father’s job and she smelled something rotten but nothing much was mentioned for the rest of the day.

We did go downtown in the morning but the streets were pretty quiet and most people were still in shock. It was only when we passed the store where I’d bought my dress that I remembered where we should have been last night and felt an overwhelming sadness and some degree of guilt. Was this God’s way of punishing me? Were my desires wrong? It was crazy thinking but it consumed me for the better part of the day until I fell asleep on the couch and woke to realize she was no longer in the room. Michelle had been watching television but had turned it off and I looked at the screen and contemplated turning it back on but the thought of seeing yet more news about the assassination made me feel ill. I had to do something to break free of the thick heaviness enveloping me and so I started cooking. Michelle came through from the bedroom sometime later, she’d showered and changed into a white blouse and black trousers and she managed a smile.

“Are we expecting guests?”

“Just one,” I looked at her, “and she’s already here.”

“Oh,” she looked at the table. I’d put candles on the table and a fresh tablecloth.

“Put on some music, I need to feel something.”

“Pick something out.”

Her choice was an L.P she’d bought just two weeks ago when we were out dress shopping, Elvis Presley’s, Something For Everybody. It was the start of an enchanted evening of flirting small talk over dinner. Our own music played in the background while outside the world tried to come to grips with the murder of a president. There will be some who will say we were selfish but one cannot cry forever and life goes on regardless. People are born, fall in love, start new jobs and perform many other duties despite national tragedies here or abroad. Tonight we were having a private romantic dinner and I had no idea what to expect next. Did we just have another wine and watch television or sit and listen to the radio or play discs all night? I felt very much like Laura as I got up to wash the dishes but Michelle laid her hand on my wrist.

“I will wash them tonight, you have done enough.”

That left me free to choose records and Michelle had amassed an impressive collection in the short time she’d been living with me although her parents had brought some over a few weeks ago. Of course my first choice was Let’s Dance by Chris Montez and then I stumbled across Locomotion, The Twist and some others. It livened up the evening until sometime around nine or so when she put on an L.P, the soundtrack to Breakfast At Tiffany’s and held out her hand for the much slower Moon River.

Her body against mine felt strangely familiar but shouldn’t it? I had slept beside her without any clothes on last night and cupped her breast in my hand. As the song finished she stepped back but I had hold of her hand and refused to let go. She looked down at her hand with a look of confusion and then I kissed her.

It was a kiss that had been brewing for the last few weeks but I was unprepared for the result as she pulled away and took three steps backwards and looked sideways. I froze and then a moment later turned and ran to my bedroom and slammed the door. I threw myself on the bed as the next track started and then I heard the door opening and Michelle stepped inside but left the door ajar as she put her back to the wall.

“You didn’t do anything wrong but there are consequences to your actions and mine.”

“I don’t care about the consequences,” I rolled over and looked at her, “I thought we agreed on a date a few weeks ago.”

“We did and it was my fault for letting it go on, I just thought maybe you would think it silly and we would come back from our dinner and that would be the end of it but I seem to have started something I can’t control.”

“What do you mean?” I sat up slowly, “do you not find me attractive?”

“You are sweet in so many ways and yes I find you incredibly attractive but if we go further then you will have to make difficult choices in the future. This is not a country that encourages this kind of thing although we would get away with far more than men in the same situation.”

“But they are my choices, difficult as they might be and they are mine to make,” I looked past her as I went on, “this is not about some silly girlish thing, I don’t know if Beebo and Laura are real and I don’t know how we could carry on with this but I know that I feel something for you that I never felt for any man. It confuses me because I don’t think of myself as being like you if you know, but I want to be with you even if we leave this place and find some tropical island.”

“I see,” she ran a hand through her hair, “I didn’t know that.”

“Your mother thinks we are living in sin but I think your father is right about happiness, we are responsible for our own happiness,” I looked up at her. “Can you be happy with me even if we have to conceal our love?”

“I have been concealing my affairs for years, it was only revealed to Henry because we shared a bed and he wanted a normal marriage and I cannot blame him for that but we were both at fault. I was under pressure from my mother and anxious about my father. It is important for me to conceal myself lest I bring his reputation into disrepute,” she knelt on the bed and looked at a picture of my parents on the nightstand.

“We do many such things to please our parents because it is the nature of our humanity I suppose, but as you have seen I disappointed my mother.”

“But not your father, I wish my father was more like him,” I fiddled with the top button of my blouse, “but how would it be between us?”

“If were to make love?” Michelle looked at me, “it would change things, assuming we found we were compatible. In our case we would continue much as we do now, being discreet is the key to staying free of controversy. We see them out on Sixth Street flaunting their sexuality by the way they dress but for us we do not take that path, it becomes our secret.”

“Oh,” I fell back against the pillows, “I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

“And do you,” she cocked her head to one side, “want to go further or be content with merely flirting?”

“I am curious about how women make love,” I replied, “and I feel something for you that I only felt for men before now.”

I watched her crawl across the bed towards me, vaguely aware that I was entering uncharted waters and yet unable to move or cry out. Her eyes fixed on me as she leaned down and kissed me gently on the lips. It was a slow lingering kiss such as I had given to men in the past but that had been in places where we could be disturbed. It was something my mother had always warned me about, be in a place where you can be easily disturbed, it inhibits the man. Now I was alone with a woman on a bed and there was no way we could be disturbed unless by some calamity or Act of God. I closed my eyes a moment later and invited the kissing to continue, losing myself in the euphoria of the moment. This was not the same as kissing a man, there was none of the urgency and the hardness, this was sublime softness in all its magnificence. A finger traced daintily down the front of my blouse, exerting just enough pressure to make my skin tingle as she kept kissing me. I was aware she went past my breasts and onto my belly where she paused to tickle me. I quivered and moaned softly and then she gently brushed past my belt and onto my abdomen. I felt the slightest pressure on my genitals and broke free suddenly.

My head was swimming and I felt warmer than usual, my breathing was shallower as she kissed my forehead several times but kept stroking my genitals. I raised my arms with some intention to push her away but instead I put them on her back and felt the imprint of her bra. She moved down to my legs with gentle brushing movements and then swept her hand up to my face.