At the Fair 1

Word Count: 2394

Characters and the plot so far:

Zahara (Harry) Hutchins: A successful tax lawyer in her late twenties, Zahara had given it all up to marry Jim and join his fundamentalist church. Zahara comes to the conclusion that she's made a mistake and leaves Jim (but not before he's cut off all her hair in an attempt to control her). Leaving Jim isn't as simple as Zahara had hoped it would be, and she's still dealing with the emotional and legal fall-out resulting from that.

Helping Zahara get her life back in order are two of her friends: Jennifer, a lawyer in the firm where Zahara works and her divorce lawyer, and Ted, also a lawyer in the same firm. His specialty is tax.

When things got really bad for Zahara, he took her to stay at his house for a few days. Of necessity, he had to out himself in order to introduce her to his partner, Steve. If it hadn't been for Zahara's crisis he wouldn't have come out any time soon, and he's still not really comfortable.

Steve is older than the rest of the Scooby Gang. He works at a non-profit and he volunteers for the organization whose booth he's staffing. He's a great cook. He's also the one who suggested that Zahara and Jennifer come spend the day at the Pride Festival. They've had some fairly serious arguments and Steve suggests they try to work it out in a drama-tolerant environment.


Sunday

After my assurances to Jennifer that dressing for a gay pride day would be simple, of course I spent a good portion of the morning changing into and out of outfits. The sun dress was pretty, but just looked weird with a crewcut. The jeans and plain tee-shirt - ah, hell, why not just rummage through my winter clothes to see if I had a plaid flannel shirt and some work boots? I finally settled on a pair of khaki shorts, a dark olive spaghetti strap tank top and a navy linen camp shirt to go over it. After doing a terrier in the flower bed impersonation, I managed to unearth a pair of sandals that were comfortable for walking but didn't scream 'sensible shoes.' Sunblock, a dusting of makeup - I didn't normally wear it on weekends, but I wanted to give clear signals - and I was out the door. It wasn't until I was turning in to the parking garage at the office that I realized I hadn't brought a hat after all. Oh, well, with my scalp healed, it was time to go back to my 'no hiding' policy, anyway.

I left my car in the underground garage and walked over to the entrance to the park. Checking my watch, it was about five minutes after ten. No sign of Jennifer, but we both tended to operate under a fifteen minute grace provision, except for professional obligations, of course. I strolled up and down the sidewalk. The second time I passed by the gates, one of the young men, in a vest with SECURITY in neon letters, called, "excuse me, miss. Is there something I can help you with?"

"No, I'm waiting for a friend."

"We're trying to keep people from hanging out outside the gates." At my surprised look, he continued, "usually the protesters gather at the other entrances - better parking there - but you never know."

I gave him a wry look. "You don't really think I'm a protester, do you?"

He and his opposite number exchanged looks - it wouldn't be impossible to imagine me on the ramparts, but not as a protester at an LGBTQ event. "No, of course not. We just don't want any trouble."

"Let me call my friend, see how close she is."

I dug my cell phone out of my purse and dialed Jennifer's number. No answer. I left a message telling her to meet me inside the gates, and turned back to the security guys. I was just about to relieve their concerns by telling them I'd wait inside the park when my phone rang.

"Hey, I'm right at the park entrance. Are you on your way in?"

"Hey, Harry. I'm really sorry. I totally overslept - I only woke up when I heard the phone ringing.

Pointlessly, I raised my eyebrows - Jennifer was a morning person's morning person. She never overslept. But. . .

"Don't worry about it - that's what Sundays are for. If you want to have a relaxing day in, that's cool. We can get together some other time."

"No, no, I'm looking forward to it. I'm up now. I can be there in around a half an hour." She broke off to give what sounded to me a most unconvincing yawn. "Oh, better make it more like forty-five minutes. Instead of meeting by the gates, shall I look for you at Steve's booth?"

"Sounds good. I'll see you when you get there." I slipped my phone back into my purse and my reflection that I'd see her if she got here into the back of my mind.

Tugging a folded up map out of my purse, I turned back to the security guys. "Women! Never on time. Anyway, can you point me in the right direction? I'm meeting a friend here," I pointed to the dot Steve had circled for me, "and I'm not sure which direction I should go."

"That's all the way on the other side of the park. Follow this path, here, and then head up the hill. When you see where the sound stage is set up, it'll be right around there."

I thanked him and headed out. And up, and up. Clearly I was going to have to program some hill work into my runs. When I finally crested the rise, I saw the park spread out around me. There were already a number of people strolling about. On first glance it would have been mostly the rainbow motifs, on flags and tents and. . . one person's hair, that would have tipped a visitor off that this wasn't an expo for Southern Baptists. Looking more closely, the pairings of the couples holding hands was a bit of a clue, although straight couples were in evidence as well as gays and lesbians. Closer, covert glances confirmed that a percentage of attendees were not conforming to gender norms in the matter of leg shaving. There were children in strollers and older couples with matching walkers. There were food vendors, informational booths, and every sort of gay themed merchandise available.

A needlepoint booth attracted my attention and I wandered over. A very plain navy belt with a thin rainbow stripe repeating down the center caught my eye. It reminded me of my mother. She'd done beautiful needlepoint - I'd kept a progression of belts starting from my childhood, each of which she had designed herself - but never, to my memory, a rainbow belt. I felt the sudden, familiar, yet always unexpected, urge to call her up - this time to ask if she'd make a flame stitch belt in rainbow colors for Ted. That made me realize that I didn't know the etiquette for coming out - was a gift expected, or perhaps a cake? I checked the size - perfect for me to wear with jeans or khakis - and the price - ridiculously low for the amount of work involved. That triggered a thought and I asked the man in the booth, "do you have these made for you?"

"I do them all myself. It keeps my hands busy while I'm watching TV. They're not made by slave labor in China, if that's what you're thinking."

"They're lovely. There's something very elegant about the thin line of colors against the navy background. I'll take this one."

We exchanged cash for my belt and a bag to keep it from snagging in my purse and I proceeded down towards the sound stage. As I strolled along, I became aware that I was pulling some looks. I'd thought I'd grown inured to drawing stares - I might be living in a city, but it was still pretty red state - but this was different. People were smiling at me, knowingly, approvingly, flatteringly. When I stopped at a table selling jewelry, the woman behind the display, after complementing me on how beautifully the earrings matched my eyes, asked if I was with anyone one. When I replied that I'd be meeting up with some friends, later, she suggested that maybe I could stop by, later. Somehow, I didn't think she was primarily looking for another sale. I bought the earrings and hurried on.

By the time I'd acquired Steve's booth in my sights I was damn near scuttling. I greeted him hastily and ducked behind him into the tent. The cool gloom would have been perfect for a fortuneteller's table.

"You look like a baby chick, hiding behind its mother's wing."

"I totally am."

"All I can say is, if you've pissed off a drag queen, you can't hide here."

"It's worse than that. People keep looking at me, like they're about to ask me out or something."

"You're an attractive woman; I can't believe that's never happened before."

Yeah, but not with women! Well, it was mostly women, but there was this one guy, and . . . one person I wasn't really sure about. You're laughing at me," I complained.

"They see a hot woman who's confident and very secure in her sexuality - that's sexy. What's wrong with that?"

"Except I'm not!" I wailed. "Well, I am, but I'm confident in my straight sexuality! Anyway, I think maybe I'll just watch the world go by from here." I settled myself at a chair next to Steve but a little bit back from the table.

"Where's Jennifer? If you stay close to her, people'll think you're a couple and leave you alone."

"She's running late; she said she'd meet me here. Anyway, wouldn't that make her, like, my beard or something?"

"God, Harry, as long as I hang out with you I'll never need to do crunches."

"It's not really all that funny. . . well, okay, it kind of is. But I'm still hiding here. Speaking of the missing, where's Ted?"

"He went out to get something to eat. There he is, now."

I followed his gaze to see Ted walking down the tent-line with a cardboard coffee holder and a bag with very promising grease stains on it. Ted settled the comestibles on the table and then walked around into the tent. From the careful way he sat next to me without touching or leaning over me, I knew that Steve had, as promised, explained that it would be better to give me a little personal space for awhile. I felt sadness, like a mourning scarf surrendered to the wind, pass through me. Yes, it was a sensible precaution. Except that, for nearly as long as I'd known Ted, I'd been trying to desensitize him to his aversion to casual touch. Ted's physical reaching out to me, that had surprised Steve so much, was something I'd cultivated, prized. And now. . .

"Hi Harry. I thought you'd be out enjoying the sights."

Steve snickered.

"I'll probably look around more later. You know, maybe that's what I need." I angled to face Steve. "Is there a bandanna code for "just browsing?"

"Probably, but it wouldn't do you any good. I don't think lesbians use the code much."

"Wait, what are we talking about?"

"You missed it. Harry came scooting in here, 'cause all the dykes were hot on her tail."

"That is so not what I said." I shifted my chair back so I could more easily look at both of them. "I was just a little, momentarily, flustered at some of the attention I was getting. And they weren't all dykes. In fact, I seem to poll very well among lipstick lesbians."

"Oh. Well, it's good to know your demographic. And what's this about a bandanna?"

"Or a handkerchief." Still no comprehension dawning on Ted's face. "I'm not sure how it's possible that you're the one with the hot lover, and yet I seem to know more about gay culture than you do, but here goes: I'm not sure how much it's actually used, as opposed to just being an urban legend - "

"Trust me, it's not an urban legend," Steve cut in.

". . . but in certain, um, social gatherings, a handkerchief, or bandanna can be used to indicate one's sexual inclinations. The meanings vary according to the color of the bandana, and where it was worn on the body: right pocket or left, rolled up in a sleeve, an origami swan tied around the penis . . . well, you get the idea. In theory, without having to come out and say anything, one could communicate a desire to find a left-handed asian bottom who likes to have sex while watching 'Barney' cartoons. So, if the code were generally used among lesbians, and I could find an appropriately colored bandanna, I could convey my lack of interest in a relationship at this time."

I looked up to see that both Ted and Steve were struck dumb by my display of cultural erudition. "Okay, I know Ted never expected to hear me use the word 'bottom' except when followed by the words 'look fat,' but, Steve, this isn't news to you. Why do you look like you just got hit on the head with a blunt instrument?"

"Barney? My god, is nothing sacred to you, woman?"

"You're making this up."

"Hey, he's purple. You mean you never wondered?" I turned to look at Ted. "The Barney part, yes, and probably the left-handed part, 'cause I'm not sure what difference that would make." I fixed Steve with a steely glare and continued, "and I'm sure I don't want to. And I think the origami swans dropped out of favor when too many men started getting rashes from all that starch. But the part about there being a code, that part's true. Seriously, when you were still single, you never ran into that in the clubs or anything?"

What I'd meant as an innocuous question seemed to rattle Ted far more than I ever would have expected. I hurried to cover the awkward moment. "Sorry. I grew up in a metropolitan area in one of the bluest of blue states. Sometimes I forget that not everyone took 'Queer Studies' for an easy A in college." I put my hand over his. "Anyway, I was just tea- Damn! Bad Harry! I didn't really mean that as a question about what your social life used to be like."

"Well, that's a relief, because I'd hate for Steve to find out what I've gotten up to to the strains of the Barney theme song."

We all laughed. "I didn't think to get you a coffee, but the donuts holes are still warm if you want some." Ted waved the bag invitingly at me. It would have been graceless to refuse. "So, did Jennifer stay behind to cover your retreat?"

"No, I'm not sure she's coming. She said she overslept, but when has Jennifer ever overslept in her life?"

"I don't have enough data to answer that question, but there's a first time for everything."

"Well, we'll see," I said in my best 'I'll believe it when I see it, which I won't because it's not going to happen' voice. "Anyway, I wish you had the opening in the other direction - we'd have a perfect view of the sound stage from here."

"That's true, but then they'd lose the walk-by traffic, which is kind of why the booth's here in the first place," Ted explained, showing a sad inability to prioritize what's really important.

"So, are you both on duty here, all day?"

"No," Steve answered, "I have a four hour shift, and Ted's just keeping me company. But we'll probably use the tent as a home base - someplace to meet and leave our stuff."

"Zahara's Story Chapter 40c" *************************************************************************************"At the Fair 2"