Suzanne: Running with Patsy
Kerry moved on. We were, I knew, in a state of perpetual estrangement. If she even noticed me it was only in passing and would hang with Marie, her moot-court partner, and Mike and Bill from the study group. My moot-court partner was a guy named Patrick, who sat next to me in our Property class. He was nice and relaxed and I enjoyed working with him. And I enjoyed drafting my moot-court brief and doing my argument.
Outside of school, Patsy had become a good friend. She loved telling, and I am afraid I loved hearing, her tales of dating woes. “Everyone thinks I’m this badass butch,” she told me more than once, “but I can’t just point to someone and say ‘here, now.’ I’m so misunderstood.” But of course she was that type of badass butch but I think she felt that it was a role thrust upon her that she was tired of and just wanted to find her “her,” whoever that might be.
She figured that someone was missing from my life. I never went out on a date, or at least never told her that I had gone out on a date, and the girls in our group were not shy about sharing-too-much. It is part of what made them so much fun to run with.
In June, about a month after first year ended, though, Patsy and I were doing a couple of Central Park loops at a conversational pace. After thinking about it for the first seven or so of the twelve miles we planned and as we were passing the Sheep Meadow I simply said, “I’m gay.” Patsy said, “No shit.” To my “I’ve only told that to two other people, including my gay Aunt,” she told me to calm down.
“Look,” she said. “First, to be clear, I don’t care one way or the other. I don’t think anyone we run with cares. I mean do you care about anyone else’s quote-unquote orientation?”
I said, “I haven’t given it a thought. We’re just a bunch of hot, fast, good-looking girls. But, you know, I’ve never really looked.”
“Well,” she laughed, “some of them have looked at you but I’m not saying who. Think of it as a way to keep your get-away speed up.” I slapped her left wrist.
“Just kidding,” she said, none too convincingly.
“But, Suzanne, while I’ve never given it a ton of thought, you’ve always seemed gay. But my gaydar is wrong as often as it is right. What I need to know is why you’re telling me this now.”
We were approaching the southern edge of the Park, gliding along in our own cocoon. Although we were going at an easy pace for us, except for the guy or occasional girl passing us in super-smooth cruise-mode we were passing tons of people. The Park Drive narrows briefly so we had to concentrate to get around the slower runners and the walkers. Once we had cleared that we resumed our talk.
“I fell in love and I fucked it up.”
“Talk to me.”
Over the next half-mile, I told Patsy about Kerry. How it was her mother that got it started. I explained that her Mom had, probably unconsciously, flirted with me and how gorgeous she was. That it was like she was channeling her daughter because her daughter did not know enough to do it herself.
Sometimes when you run your brain starts to frazzle. It doesn’t happen often but in a matter of strides you can go from a relaxed run to just shutting down and suddenly you can’t run and talk at the same time. It’s entirely a mental thing. It was happening to me. I touched Patsy’s wrist as we approached the lakehouse, and we pulled off to the side, dodging a pair of camera-wielding tourists as we did so.
When we stopped she hugged me.
“I met her during my first week of school. You know that I, unlike you,” I smirked, “am not one to walk up to a stranger to introduce myself.” She attempted to deny this and I ignored her. “I’ve done it once and it was to her. While I was lonely, it wasn’t like I was grasping at anyone to be my friend. Suddenly she was my friend. We hung around all the time at school.
“Months later I sort of invited myself to her house. She lives in the burbs with her Mom and actually takes the train in every day to school. She’s smart, very pretty, and, I dunno, comfortable.”
We were now sitting on a wall off the Drive. “When Annie and I, you know, my roomie from home, stopped by at Kerry’s, I met her mother. Seriously, Pats, the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen. And I come from California.”
“Washington doesn’t just grow great looking apples,” she countered to my thrust.
“Seriously. She’s a MILF to the hundred power. She’s been a widow for a while. Kerry had told me her story.”
Patsy, having made a mental note that she had to meet this woman, interrupted. “I’m starting to get a bit chilled here.” It was still Spring and the warmth we felt during our run was rapidly fading. “Let’s just jog for a bit.”
We started up again. “Anyway,” I continued, “she was looking at me, Kerry was looking at her and I swear to god it was like one of those Star Trek episodes where some alien is channeling his thoughts through, like some other, but possessed alien and Troi’s boobs start shaking.”