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  “Caddy,” she whispered.

  “What is it?” I asked, turning to her.

  She smiled, but didn’t say a word. Then she leaned over and brushed her lips against mine. Shivers went down my spine then. They were lust shivers, shivers I never thought I’d feel with another woman. I’d never even thought about kissing another woman, but there she was, kissing me, nibbling at my lips, kissing me. I felt the breeze from the ocean, which sobered me a little. I pulled away, embarrassed.

  “What is it?” she asked. “Haven’t you ever kissed another woman?”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “I haven’t either,” she said.

  This was probably a lie. She turned towards me. I sensed something was about to happen.

  “But I want to kiss you. Come on, Cadence, let me kiss you.”

  “You’re drunk,” I said.

  “So are you,” she teased and smiled at me.

  I stared at her. The truth was, I wanted to kiss her, but what it would mean for me was confusion. She was one of these people who took sex and had sex freely. It was all natural to her. To me, there was more to it, more trepidation. More apprehension. It meant something more to me than it meant to her. Maybe it shouldn’t have, but it did. I was very old-fashioned in this regard.

  She didn’t give me time to allow the doubts to float into my mind. She took my hand and placed it on her breast. She took my face in her hands and kissed me. It was like a jolt of lightning. It was like something was happening inside my body. That’s when I realized, I loved her. I had always loved her. I’d pitied her only so that I could hide my true feelings. I had hidden away from my emotions so that they wouldn’t torment me.

  There was something about her. There always was. And that something made me love her. Made me do the things I never thought I’d ever do. Things I’d never even given any consideration to. It wasn’t about being a lesbian; it was about loving someone for who they were.

  The hesitation I had suddenly fell away and allowed me to kiss her and kiss her I did. The passion I felt for her outweighed any trepidation I might have had. I had never before felt such passion for another human being. I’ve never felt it since. All I felt was my love for her then, my love for being in that moment, for making the most of it, for taking the hand of fate and allowing it to guide me where it would. And, as I kissed her, I knew she felt something for me, too. I knew she felt the same thing, maybe she felt more, maybe less, but that shared emotion was all I ever needed in my life, that emotion to take what I needed and give back with full abandon.

  We made love then right there on the beach. Our clothes just seemed to disappear off our bodies, which came together, which ached with our love of one another. My hands were all over her, exploring her body, which was curved, rounded, which was so beautiful. My mouth at her breast, sucking at it. Her hand between my legs, giving me more pleasure than any man had ever done. Our bodies together, pressed as close as they could be; our bodies shook with orgasm, shook with passion, shook, shook, shook the way they were meant to shake.

  When it was over, we began to giggle. I know that sounds silly, but that’s what we did. She stood and extended her hand to me. I took it without hesitancy.

  “Let’s skinny dip,” she said smiling.

  I will never forget the look on her face. I will never forget how the light from the moon, from the stars, illuminated that night. I never forget that look in her eye, that look that told me she loved me and always would.

  I will never make excuses for it, for our love. It was ours and that meant it didn’t belong to anybody else, and never would.

  Of course, we didn’t tell anybody. We couldn’t. It would have been scandal, shame. All those things that in reality it wasn’t. It was love, what we had, and to allow someone to disparage it would have allowed it to die.

  I still feel it.

  I must stop now, dear Marabel. Please bear with me.

  With warmest regards nod kindest wishes,

  Ms. C.V. Weeks

  * * * * *

  August 17th

  Dearest Marabel,

  So, that leads us up to our affair. We didn’t tell anyone about our affair; we kept it to ourselves. However, Sapphic love in Hollywood during those days was not unheard of. There were many, many actresses involved in affairs with other women. Those affairs, too, were kept quiet.

  The only person I talked to about it was my sister, Andrea, who told me I’d better keep it quiet because most people weren’t “ready for something like that.” She didn’t disapprove, though, mainly because, as I said, Sapphic love was not unheard of. Even so, we kept it quiet. Back then, it would have been a big deal. A very big deal.

  Even so, it was a happy, happy time for me and for her. In fact, I have never been so happy. It wasn’t just the sex, which was very passionate, it was more than that. It was a light, airy time. It was fun. We had a lot of fun with each other.

  But it was not to last.

  It wasn’t long after that that Carmen was offered a part overseas, a once in a lifetime part with a very famous director. She couldn’t turn it down; it would have been stupid if she had. So, she was loaned out, as they called it, by our studio to another studio for this picture. Besides, she would be back in a few months, then we could take up where we left off. That’s what she told me, so that’s what I assumed.

  But Carmen, the Carmen I knew, didn’t come back. Another woman had taken her place, a woman who was in love with a man. And when that happens, there isn’t any room for another woman. There wasn’t any room for me. And, yes, it nearly killed me.

  She didn’t apologize for this and she didn’t make excuses. What we had disappeared from her mind as if it had never happened and I became her “friend” again. We didn’t mention our affair. We just went along, business as usual. At least, for the most part.

  Of course, I was heartbroken. But then, it didn’t seem to matter much. I wasn’t an unhappy person and I took the love we had and felt it but I didn’t let it torment me. I didn’t wish she’d begin to look at me as she once did. Over time, I began to think that it was just a once in a lifetime thing and that she had moved on. I knew I would move on from it, too, and knowing that made it bearable.

  Of course, I was lying to myself. Like any lover, I was angry, resentful. When she came back, she didn’t even call me. I didn’t know she was back for over a month. That’s the way she was. It was all about her.

  Carmen always attracted trouble so it was no surprise to me that the man she fell in love with just happened to be a gangster. What could have been worse? His name was Nick O’Conner. He was Irish and really handsome. Any woman would have fallen for him, that’s how good looking he was. He had dark hair and blue eyes that just seared through you. He laughed loudly, was rude and crude but could occasionally be charming. I could see how she fell for him. I could see it. I didn’t like it much, but I understood.

  Of course, he was just a two-bit thug, an Irish gangster wannabe, a common criminal and a hoodlum. They had met in London and she had talked him into moving to Hollywood with her. I am more than sure there wasn’t much convincing to do on her part, as he really loved the lifestyle her prestige could garner him. He was flashy and dressed well. But, as far as actually making a name for himself—above or below ground—that he would never do. What he aspired to do, he never accomplished.

  However, along with being handsome, he was also big and mean. And, yes, he was mean to her. He’d beat her occasionally, giving her black eyes and bruised limbs. I hated him. I hated him more than anything. Not because he had taken her away from me, but because he reduced her to nothing. And she let him, all in the name of love.

  I knew about it, yes, but she kept it hidden, the way most abused women do. It shamed her to be lowered to the level he reduced her. But, of course, she was so in love with him she made her excuses whenever I’d confront her on it.

  “It’s just he’s so sorry afterwards,” she
muttered. “And I do make him angry.”

  I stared at her. We sat in her kitchen, in her new home, a beautiful, spacious Spanish-villa type house. She had everything there, every amenity—a swimming pool, gigantic bedrooms, closets filled with designer gowns. She had everything on the surface. Under this façade, however, she was a mass of nerves, always shaking, trembling.

  But on that day, she didn’t look so bad. She had a sweater on to cover her bruises and the scratch on her face was healing nicely.

  “I’m sure he is,” I said and lit a cigarette.

  She looked away. “Please don’t.”

  “What? Smoke?”

  “No. Please don’t judge me.”

  She was so afraid of that. She was so afraid someone would call her on something, then she’d have to face up to it. She was so afraid people would discover she was “poor white trash” and not a senator’s daughter, which is what the studio had put out. She definitely wasn’t the “Southern Belle” they made her out to be. She didn’t know even know how to be one. She’d laugh at it, the image they gave her, but really, she felt inadequate that she could never live up to the image they had created for her. But who could? It was just a fairy tale.

  She was, truly, a mountain girl who’d made it big and was afraid someone would take it all away from her. It has always been my suspicion that this was the reason she had broken off our affair. I might be giving myself too much credit. But then again, I might not be. But I do believe she was afraid of someone calling us out on being lovers. That would have caused more trouble and controversy than it was worth. I even felt that, too, that fear of someone would start talking and the downward spiral it would cause. Maybe that’s just a byproduct of success, that irrational fear, but it was enough for me to back away from our affair as well. I had my career to think about, too. But sometimes, I would forget about this, especially when I felt jealous. During those times, common sense just flew out the window.

  “Judge you?” I snapped. “Why shouldn’t I judge you?”

  She jerked a little. “Because you’re my friend.”

  “Your friend?” I scoffed. “Oh, okay, Carmen. Okay.”

  She cringed, then lit a cigarette. “You just don’t understand.”

  “Understand what?”

  “My relationship with Nick.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Why are you so enamored of this thug? That’s what he is, Carmen, a thug!”

  “No, he isn’t, Cadence,” she nearly whispered. “When you find the right man, you’ll understand.”

  “Don’t belittle me,” I hissed.

  “I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “Caddy, it’s just different,” she said. “It just is. You have to accept that.”

  “Love is love, Carmen, that’s all it will ever be.”

  She rolled her eyes. “He loves me.”

  “He loves to beat the shit out of you.”

  “Caddy you don’t understand. He loves me.”

  “I love you,” I said without hesitation.

  She stared into my eyes and said, “You can’t love me like a man can.”

  I almost cried. “I don’t want to love you like a man, Carmen, I just want to love you.”

  She looked away. “You shouldn’t love me like that anymore.”

  “How can I stop myself?” I asked. “Should I get some man to beat it out of me?”

  “Now you’re being mean.”

  And I got even meaner. “Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll find some man to beat the shit out of me. Just like you did. Maybe then I can understand this great love of yours. Or, maybe, you picked this man in order for him to beat it out of you. Maybe you were so ashamed of us you had to do something so drastic just so you could end it.”

  She stared at me then looked away. “Just shut up.”

  Yes, I was more than a little bitter about the way she’d handled things. I tried to pretend our affair meant nothing but I was just putting on a front. But truthfully, I was deeply hurt by her actions.

  “Yeah,” I continued. “I’ll find me some big old man, that’s what I’ll do. And it won’t take much to get one, you know that yourself. There are plenty of them around here, you know? What did you do? Bat your eyes at him once or twice? Or did you just show up in the room and he fell all over himself over you? Was that it? Was he nice at first? Loving? Did he tell you that you were the most beautiful woman in the world before he took a belt to your ass?”

  “Shut up!” she screamed. “God! I hate you sometimes!”

  “You hate the fact that I’m telling the truth,” I hissed.

  “Please.”

  “You know I am,” I said. “You know I’m telling the truth.”

  “Just be quiet,” she said.

  “No, I won’t. That’s why you love him,” I said, hating myself as I said it. “Cause that’s all you know. Your daddy beat the shit out of your mama, didn’t he?”

  Before I could get another word out, she had back-handed me. I was momentarily shocked. More at myself than anything. Love does many things to people, sometimes it makes them mean. It makes you go to levels you never thought you’d travel to. I suddenly knew why she stayed with Nick. He was taking her back to a time she understood. All this movie star business was taking a toll on her. She could act on screen and be anyone she wanted; but off screen, it was harder to play the part of just Carmen. With Nick, she knew what to do and how to act and through their relationship, she might have felt that she could finally be able to feel like the person she once was. It was familiar to her. It was comfortable.

  Even so, I felt terrible at what I had said to her and said, “I’m sorry.” And I meant it.

  But she was livid and began to yell at me, “You bitch! Where do you get off saying anything like that to me! Yeah, he beat her, alright! Fine! He beat me, too, if you want to know the truth! And you know what else? She beat me, worse than he did!”

  I looked away, not wanting to hear any of this, wishing I hadn’t been such a bitch, wishing I’d kept my mouth shut, wishing I could stop loving her like she’d stopped loving me.

  “Do you want to know what she did to me once?” she asked. “I was coming home from school and I was late. She was waiting for me because she thought I’d gotten with some boy. When I came into the yard, the old bitch began throwing rocks at me! Big ones. Ever had that done to you, Caddy? Huh?! Ever been stoned? Ever been hit in the head with a rock? No you haven’t! And what Nick gives me ain’t nowhere near what I got from my mother and father! Nowhere near.”

  She’d never exploded at me like that before. Suddenly, I understood everything. I understood why she never went home. I understood why she never called her family. I understood why she threw away letters from them and also why she turned away whatever relative that would show up at her door. I’d always thought she was cold-hearted, but it wasn’t that. It was because she couldn’t bear the memories, the memories I was now making her relive, the ones she thought had disappeared only to find out they were still inside her, eating at her. And I had done it just so I could justify myself to her. No, I’d done it to make her pay for breaking my heart. Perhaps being with Nick was allowing her to return home or something. She just didn’t want to be made aware of that.

  “I’m sorry,” I muttered.

  She shook with rage. Her nostrils flared, her eyes squinted. “Don’t you ever mention them again—ever.”

  “I won’t.”

  “You better not,” she seethed. “Or I might take a belt to your ass.”

  I looked away and felt awful for the things I’d said. I muttered, “I’ll never mention them again.”

  She nodded. “I loved you once, okay? I loved you with all my heart and right now my heart has moved on and maybe you should, too.”

  I nodded, placed my cigarette in the ashtray and stood. “I will, Carmen. I apologize for being so petty. I don’t like that part of me anymore than you like what
your parents did to you.”

  She stared at me for a moment, not moving, then she was suddenly at me, pulling me into an embrace. “Don’t go! I didn’t mean for you to really leave! You know what I meant! I still love you; it’s just changed, baby, it’s just changed. I’m sorry it did, but it did. If we could make it work, we would but we can’t.”

  She was crying. I was crying. This was too much. We started laughing.

  “Don’t ever leave me, Caddy,” she said. “You’re my only real friend.”

  I nodded and we sat back down at the table and laughed a little, as the tension had been broken. Just then, we heard the front door open. Nick breezed in and just like that, her face was happy. She had gone from distraught mess to a smiling beauty. A knife twisted in my heart. She smiled at him. No, she didn’t smile at him. She smiled for him. She smiled because of him. I hated it.

  “Pretty ladies,” he said in his thick Irish accent. “Now this I can get used to!”

  I looked away from him, not even wanting to acknowledge his presence. However, he was a man that was hard to look away from. He was that handsome and had I not been so smitten with Carmen, I would have looked and looked hard. But I would have never allowed him to see that. I wouldn’t have given him the satisfaction.

  “How are you doing, Cadence?” he asked.

  I turned to him and said, “I’m good. And how are you, Nick?”

  He grinned. “Never been better.” He turned to Carmen. “How are you, my love?”

  She smiled. “Better now.”

  I groaned under my breath and stood to leave. Just then, he pulled her into a hug, then kissed her right in front of me. He kissed her passionately. It made me sick to my stomach, if I’m being honest. If I’m being more honest, I had to hold myself back from him. I wanted to beat him as he beat Carmen. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I didn’t want him to strike out at me or hurt me as he had her. And he could do it, too. A man like that didn’t care or put any thought into what he did. He just did, like an animal.