Hosts

  She steps into Jeanette's room, dark except for the glowing screen saver on the laptop. She starts forward but never reaches it. Hands grip her upper arms, turn her around, soft lips find hers. Kate stiffens, instinctively begins to recoil, then gives in to those lips. Jeanette's hands move from her shoulders to the buttons of Kate's blouse, tugging at them, freeing them, slipping the fabric off her shoulders. She's insistent, will not be denied. And Kate has no will to deny her or to fight her rising heat, for a new sensation is filling Kate, something she's never fully experienced. Lust.

  She lets Jeanette guide her to the bed, lets her take her on the flowered spread, and feels transported to a place she's never been before, another realm. And for the next two hours she has her first private lesson from Jeanette, but not in computers, as a patient, expert teacher tutors her in the ways of warmth and wetness.

  "One thing led to another and… we became lovers. Then partners. And I began my double life. A very eligible divorcee in Trenton; half of a luppie couple here in New York."

  "Luppie?" Jack said, then waved his hand. "Never mind. I just got it."

  "Jeanette said her gaydar picked me out during class—she called me 'a Talbot's dyke'—but had no inkling that she'd be my first."

  "But she's been good for you?" Jack asked, and she saw real concern in his eyes.

  "I don't think I've ever been happier or felt more… whole. Jeanette has been wonderful to me and for me. She's so tuned in. She's been my guide into this world I barely knew existed, while I've smoothed some of her rough edges and taught her to take a longer view on some things."

  After coffee and sweet rolls they left the Greek Corner and wandered up to the urban garden that defined this length of Sixth Avenue, the Flower District.

  "Where do you go from here?" Jack said as they threaded through the foliage.

  Potted greenery lined the curbs, everything from rubber plants to oversized ferns to small royal palms. The storefronts were riots of color—reds, yellows, blues, fuchsias—and behind them, inside, dimly glimpsed through condensation-layered glass, lay deep green pocket rain forests.

  Last week Kate might have picked out some flowers for the apartment, but not today… not in a flower mood today.

  "In two years, when Lizzie's off to college, I'll tell the kids and Ron. After that it won't take long for the news to leak to my patients, and then the you-know-what will hit the fan. I'll lose a fair share of them. Trenton may be the state capital but it's a small town at heart. People will decide they'd rather not bring their kids, especially their daughters, to a lesbian pediatrician. Especially when there are five other straight doctors in the same office. And that won't make my partners happy."

  "So come to New York," Jack said, slipping his arm around her shoulder. "Lots of kids here whose parents won't care how you spend your off hours. And it'll be great having you close."

  She leaned against him. "You can't imagine how much I appreciate being able to talk to you like this. And I'm sorry for going on so. Listen to me: the love that dare not speak its name cannot shut up. But I've had this bottled up for so long and I feel so… so alone right now."

  "But you and Jeanette must have some friends. I mean, there's a huge gay community down here that—"

  "Yes, but I'm a forty-four-year-old baby dyke who isn't out. That makes me a sort of pariah to the younger dykes, the grrrls, the twentysomethings who've been out since their teens. They think we all should be out and eff anyone who doesn't like it."

  "'Eff'?" Jack grinned. "Did you say 'eff'?"

  "I always have trouble saying the F-word."

  "That's because you're a square. Always were."

  Kate sighed. She couldn't take offense. It was true.

  "I'm still a square in so many ways. A square dyke—can you imagine? A walking, talking oxymoron. Born square, doomed to die from terminal squareness. It's just that I was always trying to set a good example—for you when we were growing up, and later for Kevin and Liz."

  "And you did," he said softly. "Just as I'm sure you still do."

  "I don't want to change the world or be part of a movement. I just want to be me. It's taken me so long to get to this point that I just want to relax and enjoy it. And I never cared what others thought as long as I had Jeanette. We're both a little old for the gay club scene; we'd have dinner at Rubyfruits once in a while, but mostly we cooked in and just enjoyed being with each other."

  "No dressing up and going out on the town looking like Wild One Marlon Brandos?"

  "Just being a vanilla dyke more than fills my deviancy quota."

  "Don't call yourself a deviant."

  "It means deviating from the norm. And that's what we dykes do."

  "Can't help how you feel. Not as if you're hurting anyone."

  "Not yet at least. But when I finally come out… who knows?" She shook her head. "All because of a chromosome… one lousy chromosome."

  "There's a gay gene?"

  "Maybe. But I'm talking about the Y-chromosome, the one that makes you male. We females have two X-chromosomes, but if I could change one chromosome, change just one of my X's to a Y, my feelings for Jeanette would be considered perfectly normal."

  Jack gave a low whistle. "Jeez. You put it like that, what's all the fuss about?"

  "Exactly. One chromosome. And if I had it, I wouldn't have all this terrible angst and dread about letting people know."

  He grabbed her shoulder. "Just thought of something. Are you going to tell Dad?"

  Kate shuddered. She had no idea how her father would react. She loved him. They'd always been close, but he had no idea. No lesbians in his world. What words could she use to tell him that his only daughter was one?

  "I haven't decided whether he should be before or after the kids. Either way, that's when the you-know-what hits the fan."

  "Would that be 'ess' hitting the fan, or doo-doo?"

  Kate laughed and hugged Jack. "Both!"

  She loved the man he'd become. What great luck running into him. And what a wonderful feeling to be out to him. It had been so easy.

  She looked around and realized they were back at the Arsley. She almost dreaded going back upstairs and facing Jeanette. Who would she be today?

  "Mind if I come up with you?" Jack said.

  Does he read minds? she wondered.

  "I'd like that."

  She keyed her way through the front door but stopped Jack in the lobby. She had to make one thing absolutely clear to him.

  "No one else can know what we've discussed this morning, Jack. Not till Kevin and Liz are both eighteen. It's not just for my sake but for theirs too."

  "Okay, sure, but—"

  "No buts about it, Jack. Ron doesn't know and I can't predict how he'll react. He's a good man and I think he'll be okay, but you never know. If he feels his masculinity has somehow been compromised, he may try to get back at me through the kids. We have joint custody now but he might sue, claiming that as a lesbian I'm an unfit parent—"

  "No way."

  "It happens all the time, Jack. The courts can be rough on lesbians. But even if Ron accepts it, what about Kevin and Liz? The news will sweep through their school in minutes, and you know how cruel kids can be. Adolescence is hard enough. I can't add that to the load. When they're both in college I'll sit them down and tell them. Until then I've got to stay in the closet. Just like you."

  "Me?" He looked shocked. "What—?"

  "Yes, you. You're leading a double life just like me. You've got one face you show to the public but then there's this other side, this Repairman Jack thing that you've been hiding all these years—from Dad, from Tom, from me, and I'm sure from the police, since you've as much as said some of what you do isn't exactly legal. You've got your own closet, Jack."

  He stared at her a moment, then nodded. "Never thought of it that way but I guess I do. Except I can't come out of mine. Ever."

  "You did to me."

  He shook his head, raised a hand, and waggled his pinky fing
er.

  "T opened the door a crack and showed you this much. The rest stays inside."

  "Why?"

  "Because my closet's way deeper and lots darker than yours."

  She expected to see sadness in his eyes but found only flat acceptance. He'd made choices and he'd live with them.

  Just as she'd live with hers.

  4

  Jeanette was not in sight when Jack and Kate came in.

  "She might still be asleep," Kate said.

  Jack hoped not. He wanted to see what mental shape Jeanette was in before he left Kate alone with her. He also wanted another look at this woman who meant so much to his sister. He couldn't help but see her differently now. She was no longer Kate's friend, she was her lover.

  "Who's asleep?" Jeanette said, stepping out of her room with a mug in her hand.

  She wore an Oberlin sweatshirt and cut-off shorts. Nice legs. Great quads. She definitely worked out.

  "How are you feeling?" Kate asked.

  Jeanette beamed. "Absolutely wonderful. How about you? And Jack. So good to see you again. How are you?"

  Jack glanced at Kate, saw the tight line of her lips, and knew how she was feeling. They were in the presence of Mary Poppins without the accent. Or maybe the Stepford Dyke.

  "Just fine," Jack said. "We had a walk and a talk."

  "I'm out with Jack," Kate said. "He knows everything."

  Jeanette glided into the kitchen. "Isn't that nice." She placed her mug into the microwave and began punching buttons. "Not that it's going to matter."

  Kate looked as if she'd been slapped. "What do you mean?"

  "Oh, nothing." Her smile broadened. "And everything."

  She punched the START button and her grin died. Slack-faced and staring, she swayed.

  "Jeanette?" Kate started forward.

  Jeanette began mumbling, slowly, extracting the words like corks from wine bottles. "Kate… I… we… no… Kate, I'm almost gone. Can't hold out—"

  And then the microwave oven chimed.

  And Jeanette blinked and regained her smile as abruptly as she'd lost it.

  "What?" Jeanette said. "Why are you staring?"

  "You had another of those spells," Kate said.

  "Don't be silly." She removed her reheated cup from the microwave and took a sip. "Mmmm."

  "Jeanette—" Kate began as Jeanette brushed by her on her way out of the kitchenette, but Jeanette cut her off.

  "Any plans for today, Kate?" She plopped herself in the rocking chair and smiled.

  As Kate began another attempt at convincing Jeanette to make an appointment with Dr. Fielding, Jack stared at the microwave. Wasn't sure, but thought he remembered Jeanette having her 'spell' last night while Kate was nuking the dip. And now while reheating her coffee.

  Could microwaves trigger these spells? Didn't know a lot about them, but if people with pacemakers were supposed to keep their distance, who knew what other effects they might have?

  "Anyone mind if I make myself a cup of coffee?" he announced to the room.

  Kate gave him an odd look and he knew what she was thinking: after all the coffee he'd drunk at the Greek place he should be floating.

  But Jeanette said, "Sure, be my guest."

  Found a mug, filled it with water, and stuck it inside the oven. This gave him a chance to look it over. Noticed the door wobbled on its hinges, and he found a crack in the lower right corner of the glass. Had it been dropped at some time?

  Closed the door, set it for five minutes on high, and punched START. As it hummed to life he turned to Jeanette.

  Nothing. She sat in the front room sipping and rocking and shaking her head no to everything Kate was suggesting.

  So much for that theory.

  But wait. Jeanette had been standing in the kitchen both times. Proximity could be a factor.

  Hit the STOP button.

  "Something wrong here," he said. "The microwave won't stay on."

  "Sometimes the door doesn't catch," Jeanette said. "Make sure it's closed all the way."

  Jack made a show of opening and closing the door, and pretended to press START.

  "Nope. Still won't go."

  "Men!" Jeanette said with an exasperated sigh as she rose from her chair. "You're only good for one thing."

  Jack stepped aside to allow her to reach the microwave. "And what's that?"

  "Procreation."

  Weird thing for a lesbian to say. Wasn't breeder a derogatory term among gays?

  Watched her press START.

  She dropped her cup, splashing Jack's ankles with hot coffee, and now her face had that slack look again, and she started mumbling.

  "No… yes… this helps… what are you…"

  "Jeanette!" Kate cried, rushing into the kitchen area. "It's happening again!"

  "Easy, Kate."

  She grabbed Jeanette's hand. "What's happening?"

  "It's the microwave oven. Seems to have some effect on her."

  "Then turn it off!"

  "No," Jeanette gasped. "Leave… it on."

  "Listen to her, Kate. It's a good effect. Like it's snapping her out of whatever spell she's under."

  "The virus," Jeanette said. "The virus…"

  "What about the virus?" Kate gripped Jeanette's shoulders and gently rotated her until they were face to face. "Tell me."

  Jack retreated a step. Three people strained the tiny kitchen's occupancy limit. Let Kate handle it. She was the doctor.

  Jeanette's tone changed—same voice, but suddenly more focused. "We do not want to speak of this."

  "What do you mean, 'we'?"

  Fractured again: "Wasn't me… don't listen to them. It's the virus… changing us."

  "Changing you how?"

  "My brain… our brains… reaching critical mass…" Another shift in tone. "No! We will not speak of this!"

  Jeanette squeezed her eyes shut, seemed to be making a heroic effort to exert control. Might have been funny on a stage or in a comedy club, somebody doing a parody of a bad horror film about demonic possession or warring multiple personalities, but the fear-sweat streaming from Jeanette's pores was real. Jack sensed a once indomitable personality clawing for a fingerhold on her identity and his heart went out to her. He wanted to help her but hadn't a clue as to how.

  "Tell me, Jeanette!" Kate said. "What's happening to you?"

  "Eaten… eaten alive. Every minute… every second… less of me… more of them."

  "Jeanette, that sounds so—"

  The microwave went ding! Jeanette stiffened, blinked.

  Damn! Jack quickly reached around Kate, punched another ten minutes into the oven and got it running again.

  "E pluribus unum! E pluribus unum! E pluribus unum!…"

  She kept repeating the phrase and Jack couldn't be sure which Jeanette was responsible. It seemed like a prayer, or a mantra, something you might repeat endlessly to drown out a sound or a frightening thought.

  "Jeanette!" Kate still had hold of her shoulders and was shaking her. "Jeanette, stop that and listen to me!"

  But she kept droning the same damn phrase.

  And then Jack turned at the sound of the door opening and saw Holdstock rush into the room.

  "What's going on here!" the pudgy man cried. He wore a gray, three-piece suit; his face was flushed and sweaty, as if he'd been running. "What are you doing to her?"

  "Hey-hey!" Jack said, stepping toward him and straight-arming him to a stop. "Where do you get off barging in here?"

  "I have a standing invitation," he puffed. He held up a key. "See? More than you have, I'm sure."

  He tried to slip past, but Jack wasn't about to let that happen. He grabbed him by his suit vest.

  "Whoa, pal. Just stay where you are."

  And behind Jack the "e pluribus unum" chant continued.

  "You take your hands off me! And stop torturing that woman or I'll call the police!"

  "Will you?" Jack said. "I wonder."

  But the threat did hold weight
for Jack. Last thing he wanted was a couple of cops at the door.

  "Let me go to her! Please!"

  "Let him, Jack," Kate said. "Maybe he can explain what this is about."

  Jack released Holdstock who lunged past him toward Jeanette.

  "Listen to her," Kate said as Holdstock neared. "Do you have any idea what that means?"

  "Of course," he said.

  But instead of explaining he reached past Kate and unplugged the microwave.

  "Hey!" Jack said as the chant stopped.

  Jeanette sagged against Kate, then straightened and pushed away.

  "What…? Where…?"

  "It's all right, dear," Holdstock said, guiding her from the kitchen. "I'm here now."

  "Get your hands off her," Jack said.

  "Should I take my hands off you, Jeanette?" Holdstock said.

  "No. No, of course not."

  "You're coming with me," he told her, steering her toward the door. "It's not healthy for you here."

  "Not so fast," Jack said, blocking their way.

  Jeanette glared at Jack. "You! You're an enemy! You're evil! Get out of my house!"

  "Jeanette!" Kate said. "Please!"

  "I want you to stay, Kate," she said, keeping her eyes fixed on Jack, "but if your brother is here when I come back, I'm calling the police."

  Jack didn't move. His gut told him he shouldn't let her go—for her sake—but if she said she wanted to leave, he couldn't see he had much choice but to let her.

  Reluctantly he stepped aside. But only a little. Just enough to let them squeeze by.

  As Holdstock brushed past, one arm around Jeanette's shoulders, Jack felt something sharp scrape against the back of his hand. He glanced down and saw a fine scratch. How had that happened? Holdstock's near hand had been in his coat pocket as he'd passed.

  He shrugged. Nothing serious. Probably just a pin from a cleaning tag. Barely bleeding.

  He turned to Kate and found her still standing in the kitchen, a lost, confused look on her face.

  "What just happened here?" she said.

  "Damned if I know. You're the doctor. Have you ever seen anything like that?"