A Real Somebody

We'd been together for a year, engaged one month and my only intention was to love her. I swear to God. I was content to cherish every moment of every minute just being with her. But Lena was impatient and seemed agitated in her own skin. Like she was desperate to escape herself and re-emerge in some alternative universe where everything was 'perfect'. It made me wonder how she'd ever be able to love me at all but I didn't let myself worry too much because she was beautiful and there aren't many beautiful lesbians in Bakersfield.

She wore a thick coat of peach lip-gloss and I'd stare at her mouth every time she implied I wasn't enough. My jobs as grocery bagger and self-published poet didn't impress her at all and she made a lot of hand gestures emphasizing how I was not her idea of an ideal spouse.

Lena was a radiological technician and proud of it, although I'm not sure she really enjoyed operating the equipment. When I would wonder about it to her, she would just wonder back why she was with someone on such an inferior track, as she liked to call my life. I tried to ignore her cruelty by fantasizing elaborate scenarios of what our future life would be like. I imagined us sitting together under a huge canopy of misty trees, like the old growth forests of yesterday. I'd pour her blueberry tea and rub her feet while we discussed all the ways in which consciousness is now evolving on the planet. The sun shining through the branches would cast appealing shadows across her face and she would swoon as I kissed her. It was all wonderfully cinematic.

Sometimes she'd catch me staring off into space and bark at me that daydreaming doesn't pay the bills and that I needed to either go to medical school or get my air traffic control training. Neither of these options held any appeal for me, as stress was something I didn't necessarily thrive on. I did make an appointment at a community college to figure out some premed classes but I got a really bad cramp in my eye and had to come home.

On days when I'd feel shameful, I'd clean the house really well or offer her a back massage with my homemade raspberry body rub. She'd either ignore me or tell me to concentrate on ways to afford the 2007 GL450 Mercedes SUV. I wanted to scream at her that big gas guzzlers are no longer sexy now that the planet is melting but I held my tongue.

Every now and again she'd be really sweet to me and totally melt into my arms. She'd be kind and accepting and affectionate. This rarest of Lena's actually felt like the real Lena. But she didn't allow herself this freedom very often. I could almost see the instant that some anxiety-ridden thought warrior would burrow into her mind and take over completely.

But I still held out hope for us until one Friday in July when two very odd and unexpected things happened to me. I came home from my usual morning writing session in the park to what I can only describe as an awful sight. All of my belongings were stacked on top of each other in the front yard. It was like the U-HAUL thing in reverse, too quick for comfort. Lena was standing on the lawn, looking truly pissed off, almost enraged.

"I'm leaving you," she said.

"Why?" I asked.

"You've done nothing towards building a life for us. Nothing towards that SUV and I'm not gonna drive an economy car forever. It's just not who I am. You do nothing and you dress like a slob!" she screamed.

I stood and stared incredulously at her feet. She was wearing blue tube socks stuffed into brown sandals.

"But I love you Lena," I said.

"Stop!" She was squeezing her hands into fists.

"We're not gonna end up on the street," I said.

"You're a selfish, lazy artist. I don't have the time or luxury to sit around and lolly-gag through life. We're meant to do something, be somebody!" she yelled.

"You are somebody!" I yelled back. The tears I was trying to hold had started their slide down my face.

"Yes, I know. I'm a radiologist!"

I should have added 'technician' but instead I said, "I love you."

She was silent and for one glorious instant, I thought I could sense the real Lena making a comeback.

"Go away Trish."

It was an awkward scene as I gathered up my stuff and wiped the snot from my face. It would have made for great television but I was devastated. I figured I could stay a week or so at Jake's place. Jake was my best friend, another selfish, lazy artist like myself.

"And don't come back because I'll be seeing somebody new," she said.

"What?" I said. It felt like someone was ripping my guts out through my throat. I moved towards her wanting a really good look at her eyes.

"Her name is Jeannie and she lives in Long Beach. I met her online," she said, near tears.

"So you haven't actually met her in person yet," I stated.

She squinted at me like she might charge, "That doesn't matter. She's a trial attorney. She's got her shit together. She's actually doing something with her life. Not like you Trish. You'll be on the turtle track forever!"

She was crying when she slammed the door in my face.

I started walking to Jake's place with my three suitcases when the phone rang. God how I was hoping it was her calling to tell me she'd finally come to her senses, that she'd had an epiphany and that she would love us both AS IS from this day forward.

Instead it was Bruce Jacks, my literary agent, whom I had not spoken with in over a year. He said he was calling to inform me that my long-dead screenplay, A REAL NOBODY, had just been optioned for a five-figure development deal.

I asked him how and he said people 'are into that metaphysical shit now". I looked up at the sky with my tear-stained, quizzical face. The rest of my night was bittersweet. Jake and I laughed and cried and wrote really bizarre haikus. Lena never called me and I never called her, even though Jake nearly begged me to ring her up and gloat.

The next day I flew to Los Angeles, an old tattered script in hand, wondering what it would feel like to finally be a real somebody.

By Katherine Carlson, Lesbian News