Tales of the City 05 - Significant Others

talked about it plenty.”
    “Sure. Here . Just not on The Today Show.”
    “She’s a feminist,” said D’or. “She’d lose her effectiveness if people knew she was gay. Get real.”
    “You’re the one who’s not being real.”
    D’or picked up a pebble and flung it into the river. “Since when did you get to be such a radical?”
    “Is that radical?” DeDe asked. “To expect people to tell the truth?”
    “When didn’t she tell the truth?”
    “All the time. O.K…. When she was on Merv Griffin. She kept talking about the kind of man she likes.”
    “Well … a lesbian can like men.”
    “But she doesn’t say that, does she? She deludes people, D’or. It’s the same as lying. She’s a tired old closet case.”
    “She’s a great poet,” said D’or.
    “Well,” said DeDe. “Did you learn anything?”
    “Do you really care?”
    “You must’ve written something,” said DeDe.
    “No.”
    “You just listened?”
    “If you must know, I assisted her during the reading.”
    “Assisted her?” said DeDe, gaping. “Turned the pages? What?”
    “Very funny.”
    “Well, tell me.”
    D’or raked her fingers through her hair. “One of the pieces required … interpretive body work.”
    DeDe blinked at her. “Dancing?”
    “Yes.”
    “You danced while she read?”
    “Yes.”
    “Oh, swell,” said DeDe.
    “I considered it an honor.”
    “Who wouldn’t?” said DeDe.
    D’or rose, dusting off the seat of her pants. “I don’t need this.”
    DeDe followed her back to the tent. “You see what she’s up to, don’t you?”
    “She enjoys my company,” said D’or.
    “She enjoys your tits,” said DeDe.
    D’or’s eyes flashed again. “She relates to my energy. She thinks we knew each other in a past life.”
    “Oh, please.”
    “Back off, DeDe, O.K.?”
    “Fine.”
    “I like talking to her. She likes talking to me. It’s as simple as that.”
    DeDe snorted. “You think she wants you for conversation?”
    D’or spun around. “Is that so hard to believe?”
    “Oh, for God’s sake, stop acting like such a … ex-model. Wake up and smell the hormones, D’or. The woman is in heat.”
    D’or crawled into the tent. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She grabbed her knapsack and crawled out again. “I’ll certainly keep that in mind.”
    “Where are you going?”
    “Use your imagination,” said D’or.
    Night fell, and D’or did not return. Anna and DeDe ate dinner together at the chow hall, then went to visit Edgar at Brother Sun. He showed them a wallet he’d stitched and a knee wound he’d incurred during a wrestling match. He seemed happy enough, DeDe decided; her escalating misery would find no company at the boys’ compound.
    On their way back to the campsite, they passed a large tent where two women in mime makeup were entertaining kids with “a festival of non-violent, non-sexist cartoons.” Recognizing two of her playmates inside, Anna asked if she could join them, so DeDe left her there and continued the trek on her own.
    She was taking a shortcut across the hearing-impaired zone when she saw her tomboy friend from the bulletin board. Polly something.
    “Hey there,” said Polly, waving merrily. “How’s it been goin’?”
    DeDe rolled her eyes. “Don’t ask.”
    Polly smiled. “That was you on the gate, wasn’t it? When the men got in.”
    Jesus. Had there been a press release?
    “I remembered you were heading for your work duty,” Polly explained, “so I just figured …”
    “Well, it’s over now,” said DeDe, maintaining her stride.
    Polly walked alongside, swinging her arms, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I thought I might see you at that emergency meeting. That’s the only reason I went.”
    “What emergency meeting?”
    “You know … the one ol’ baldie called.”
    “Rose Dvorak?”
    “Yeah.”
    “She called a meeting?”
    “A major one,” said Polly.
    DeDe’s stomach constricted. She wondered if they’d discussed her—her ineptitude, her Neanderthal stepfather, her dubious loyalty to Womankind.
    “They’ve beefed up security something fierce,” said Polly. “Rose thinks it’s gonna happen again.”
    “Bullshit,” said DeDe.
    Polly shrugged. “Seemed pretty random to me.”
    “It was random,” said DeDe.
    “They’re getting off on it. That’s what I think. Rose just creams at the thought of declaring martial law. Slow down, DeDe.”
    “Sorry.”
    “Why are you so wound up?”
    “I don’t know.” She