People in Trouble by Sarah Schulman Read Free Book Online Page A

down without saying what she was thinking.
     
    "How do you feel, Kate?"
     
    "Not sure," she said.   "I go very slowly in matters of this nature."
     
    "I go very quickly."
     
    Molly knew, of course, that she did not go very quickly but it was obviously the most romantic thing to say.   What was she supposed to do, tell the truth and admit to being a nerd?   She was, after all, trying to convince a married woman to fall into bed with her and then roll around there for a while.
     
    They stood at the door again, molding their hands into each other's, and Molly watched Kate come in to kiss her.   Kate turned her neck to both sides, like a soft wave, but in slow motion with her eyes closed.
     
    Everything was light orange then, when her lowered lids blocked out the ice blue of her eyes.   She was plain.
     
    She was effeminate, like a beautiful faggot.   Lips in place, they kissed.   Even though Molly bit her mouth and licked her neck and grabbed handfuls of muscle from her arms, Kate didn't move.
     
    Molly was excited then and embarrassed and so hopeful and invested.
     
    "Will I see you again?"   she asked and immediately forgot the answer.
     
    "Come back," Molly said as Kate walked out her door.
     
    "I will," she said, but it was a lie.
     
    Molly called her for two months.   She left messages under the door of Kate's studio saying she would be home by eight, that she was taking tickets at Cinema Village and could get Kate into Godfather II for free.   Sometimes Kate answered the phone but said she was busy and couldn't talk.   Still, Molly persevered because the one thing Kate never said was "Don't call me, I don't want to see you.
     
    In fact, Kate often said she would call back as soon as she v wasn't busy.   But she never did.   She lied instead.   So, Kate's lack of definition became constant fodder for Molly's firm belief in everyone's potential for change, and she continued despite the odds.   She was willful.   She was desiring.   She was very deliberate.
     
    Molly decided to change her approach.   She stopped calling.   She stopped slipping messages under the door.   She stopped reading Kate's horoscope.   Instead she sent a very careful letter.
     
    "I held the envelope in my hand," Kate told her later.   "With slight distaste I opened it, expecting to find some unpleasant adolescent cajole, some threat or wail.   It was going to take an unimportant example of poor judgment and turn it into a major event.   It would make you more important, Molly, than I intended for you to be because fighting with someone is very, very intimate.
     
    Tolerating them is condescending but being angry at someone is the best way of keeping them in your life."
     
    They sat across a table from each other as Kate said this.
     
    There was little communication and not much light.   Molly felt cold on the top of her skin and very still underneath.
     
    "When you are angry at someone, they are present.   You have something to be mad at, you have them.   Then they have to consider you.   They have to have an opinion.   I opened the letter.   It said, `bluish carmine, velvety."   That's when it all began, of course."
     
    HOt[t It was very hot that evening, so most people wore shorts and light tank tops.   There was a lot of white.   There were white balloons on strings, one for every friend who had died.   At the beginning of the route people handed out magic markers and passed them along, so each one could write the names of their friends on the balloons.   Some people had one balloon.   Some people had eight.   Some had more.   A few were carefully inscribed with detailed information like "Thomas Ho 1957-1987."   Others just said "Ray."   People also held white candles, which gave the anxious something to fuss about, like keeping it lit or catching the wax.
     
    Men and women smiled and said quiet soft hellos or kept to themselves.
     
    Mostly they just walked down the street.   There was not