Chapter 8

I laughed in the car while wiping my drenched legs from rainwater. I laughed to the silly songs on the radio, and the way the sleepy DJ's talked to each other, hoping their listeners were still awake like them. I laughed all the way home until my back hit the soft mattress in my bedroom, and I was tucked away safely under the covers.

This person, Lynx, had been the first one to attempt those things at me and succeeded. I was impressed. To think that I had been played from the start like that. Amazing! However, nobody, even she, couldn't get away with it. She was dealing with Scotland. Somehow I needed to get even.

In my third visit to the cafe, I came a bit later at 2 am. The place would be full by then, and Lynx wouldn't escape from me like she's been having a jolly good time doing since I've ridden her taxi. "Where's Lynx?" I said to granny, pointing my chin to the prankster's table. It was once again vacated from her presence.

Granny put down the white cups she was wiping. "Nobody knows where that kid disappears to when she's not here. Sometimes she's here early, but most of the time her schedule is unpredictable. She's like a cat, you see. She comes and goes whenever she pleases. She reminds me of my daughter. What are you waiting for with your interview, child? Time lost is time forgotten." Granny was back to wiping another cup, smiling to herself.

"I knew that," I said, tearing my eyes from Lynx's table. So I had to wait another hour for her. That woman couldn't be more exasperating. "I brought questionnaires for the subjects to answer. You don't mind if I spread them around, do you?"

"Not at all," granny said.

"Okay then. I'll be leaving you to your work. My lesbians await." For my first interview, I chose a table and sauntered to the direction. Two lovely females who looked uncannily alike stopped talking when I approached. "May I sit here?" I asked, using a smile that nobody has refused before, daring and seductive.

The one to the left, a brunette with shoulder length hair, said, "Sure." She pulled the empty chair so I could sit. They could be sisters, what with only the length of their hair and the color of their clothes distinguishing them apart.

"I'm Scotland," I said, offering a hand which they shook hesitantly. "Both of you probably get this a lot, but you don't look like lesbians." I watched their reaction change from being awkward strangers to laughing at me as if I was an idiot. It was the kind of response I was hoping for. "Just so you'd know. I was kidding," I said. "Now that everyone is relaxed, let me tell you the real reason why I disturbed your night. I'm here to conduct an interview for a study. Rest assured that you'll remain anonymous in whatever write-up I deliver. This will allow you to speak freely."

They stopped laughing. "Study about what?" they asked.

"Lesbians." I unzipped my bag and brought out the recorder. "I'll name you subject one," I said to the woman on the left, "And you subject two. There's no monetary compensation for this, just to be clear. I want you to be willing participants in the name of research. Are both of you in?" They shrugged half-heartedly. I gave Granny, who was watching from her spot on the counter, a thumbs up. She need not worry about me. I started recording. "To introduce you to the audience, may I know your age?"

"Twenty nine," subject one murmured to the device.

"Twenty two," subject two said more reluctantly, tucking a stray hair behind her ear.

"Lovely," I said. "Are both of you from around these parts?"

"No," they chorused.

Subject one picked up on the interview. She was more talkative of the two. "I'm from Minnesota, and my friend is from Florida. We're here for different reasons and became friends through common acquaintances."

"I see. I'll be supplying a questionnaire later for further documentations, if that's alright," I said. "In the meantime, why don't you tell our audience the classic identity of a lesbian through your perspective. Is it the same as the dictionary definition, girls liking girls?"

"Pretty much," subject one answered, "Although it's more complex in a way that we ended having subgroups among ourselves. A further means to identify a lesbian by other lesbians. Some of us hates it, but Johanna, I mean subject two and I are alright with being called a femme, or whatever they want to label us."

"Granny did tell me about the stereotypes," I said. "Can you further explain on that for the benefit of our audience? Judging from your reactions when I said that you didn't look like lesbians earlier, you've heard that line in the past and wasn't thrilled. So what does a lesbian supposed to look like, really? From a straight person's perspective, people have always thought of you as male copycats."

Subject one took a restraining breath. Subject two sipped on her cup, none happier.

"I absolutely hate it when they say that," subject one said. "Lesbians can look like anything and still get attracted to girls, you know what I mean?"

"But you're not opposed to being called a femme," I said. "Or being categorized into a subgroup. Why would you hate people telling you that you don't look like a lesbian when there are classifications put into place by your own kind?"

My questions have attracted quite a number of listeners from the nearby tables. Some of them have pulled their chairs closer to listen. The more the merrier. The sooner they understand that I was making a study, the faster the development would be.

Subject one's brows were furrowed as she thought of an answer. Subject two decided to jump in the interview for her sake. "For me, categories are there to help a lesbian who's just discovering herself to find her place among us so she'd fit in," she said. "Nothing more. It's a guidance, not a definition by itself of what we should be. Men for example can be differentiated in similar lines. There's a sporty guy, a lady's man, a scholarly type, a douche."

"I'm well aware of the last," I said. The listeners chuckled, including the staff behind the counter. They've been paying attention to us too, as with all the other guests tonight. Unfortunately, Lynx wasn't one of them. The woman has yet to make an appearance.

"Anyway," subject two continued. "Those descriptions doesn't define men, only guide other people to find who they're most comfortable relating with. We can say the same for lesbians. We are not Barbie dolls that come with predetermined clothes. We're more like Ken. We have a huge closet that we sometimes hide in, though when we come out, we either wear what's in the closet, or borrow from Barbie."

I couldn't help but giggle with the others. "That's a stellar explanation," I said. "It makes me understand you more, and I hope the audience are coming with their own conclusions as well. Just because there's a box doesn't mean they have to be in it, though at times what's in the box serves as a guidance." I turned to subject one who seemed pleased with what subject two said. "Seeing that lesbians are diverse, can you give me the common types that you relate to? I'm not saying that you should fit the mold. Anything but that."

"I'll answer," interrupted a brown eyed female with short hair that matched her roguish features and looser jeans.

"Go ahead," I agreed.

"Typically, I'm what you call a butch," she said. "We're all about masculinity. Chicks dig it. Right babe?" She winked to the girl beside her. "Butches usually have shorter hair like mine, but you can easily identify one even with a long hair if she struts her stuff around like she owes the place. I'm guilty of this sometimes. We're more comfortable with baggy clothes, but there are also butch lesbians who like dapper styles."

She hooked her left arm around the girl she'd been winking at. "Shannon here is a femme," she explained. "If butch lesbians like masculinity, this cutie pie and her friends are so feminine, you'll have trouble telling if they're lesbians or not. Sometimes they're called lipstick lesbians, mainly because some of them enjoy wearing makeup. I call them heartbreakers. They're the ones you see in the classroom and fall in love with, only to doubt yourself at the end of the day because it doesn't look like they like women at all."

I eyed Shannon. Her outfit for the night was a skirt, heels, and a pink top. If I were to see her in the street or a restaurant, I wouldn't have thought she was a lesbian. Maybe that was why some heterosexuals become dumbfounded and make the mistake of saying, 'You don't look like a lesbian.' Because some of them really didn't give that vibe. But as they explained, lesbians shouldn't fit into a mold. They were diverse. I was having a deeper appreciation of them the more they informed me.

"Make no mistake though," Shannon said to me. "We're feminine alright, but we can also rock combat boots and kick your ass in any sport."

"Let's try that theory sometime when we're not occupied," I said. She'd eat my dust, lesbian or not. I glanced at the time on the recorder. It has been running for a good hour, but Lynx wasn't sitting by her table yet. Tsk. "What about the futch and the tourist?" I went on. "Those are unrecognizable terms for most 'straight' people. Kindly give us an explanation."

"It's easy," Shannon replied. "Futch are neither femmes nor butch. They're somewhere in between, hence futch. They have both qualities on them. If you see a lesbian wearing a sweatshirt and a snapback, but still have lipstick on, she's probably on that category. There are dozens of archetypes out there, and you're going to get lost in all the terms if we go on, so I'm going to stop here. The point is, we're us. We're a rainbow of complexities you have to discover."

I pushed the stop button on the recorder. The data they've given had been plenty. Plus I could refer to the internet for additional information in the morning after sleeping. "Thank you for that insight," I said, finding myself drawn to Lynx's table for the third time. "By the way, does anyone know the person who sits there?"

They followed my gaze. "You're not the first one who's been curious about Lynx," Shannon said with a knowing look. "And definitely not the last. She's the special breed that we forgot to mention. She's the alpha."

"Alpha?"

"Let's just that they lead the pack," she explained "They're the real winners in the lesbian world because everyone wants to date them. Problem is they come few and far in between. If a person tells you she's an alpha, she's definitely lying. Same goes if she tells you she's dating one. You don't have to be told that someone is an alpha. You'll bloody effing know. Even straight women swear that they can be turned gay by alpha lesbians, which is so sad when you think about it. They're making us sound like we have a choice in the matter."

My eyes didn't leave the other table. "What do you do when you encounter an alpha?" I asked.

Shannon and everyone near us leaned to me excitedly. "You don't think," she said. "You only allow her to devour you." She had a self-satisfied smirk as she slung her arm on the chair. "Good luck with that though. Lynx is like the alpha of the alpha. She's also very choosy. She's been single for years and doesn't really talk with the rest of us mortal beings. She only sits on that one table and communicate with the hostess. That's it."

I noticed the goosebumps on my arms and started rubbing them away. All this talk about devouring stuff made me uneasy somehow. Weird. I never get uncomfortable in most situations.

After conducting the interview with a promise that I'd be back for more, I handed the questionnaires to each of them. Before I left the cafe, I went to granny to say goodbye. "Can you give this to Lynx?" I asked, giving her a copy of the questionnaire. "I heard you're the only person she talks to." Apart from me that is. Or was Lynx happier terrorizing me?

Granny took the paper and tucked it in a drawer behind the counter. "Your questionnaire is in good hands," she said. "Come back on Thursday at the same time. It's the next operating day for the shop."

Tuesday.

Wednesday.

Thursday.

The days passed so quickly that it felt like I just typed it here lazily to give you an impression that time has shifted. But really, it had. And what could I say? At this point, the research was most important, so I was focused on that.

Thursday at three o'clock in the morning, granny handed me the questionnaire back with a disappointing, "You just missed Lynx. She came here for ten minutes, answered this for you, and left."

I didn't know how to feel about that. Frustrated because she has escaped me again? Infuriated because she'd been operating in her own terms? Glad because I had something to hold on to despite everything? In which case I gladly took the paper from granny and silently went to the table that Lynx was supposed to occupy.

Lynx left some information unanswered on the questionnaire. Her name was blank. So was her age, address, and numerous other things. What she did answer, however, I had to translate because she had used a different language. Here they were.

Questionnaire

· How do you feel about religion? - Die Existenz eines himmlischen Wesens wird häufig auf verschiedene Weise diskutiert. Religion zelebriert und erforscht sie nicht nur, sondern benutzt sie auch als politisches Mittel um zu kontrollieren. Was ein System ist, das dazu gedacht ist Frieden zu entfachen, endet im Krieg. Während ich denke, dass wir ohne Religion besser zurechtkommen, ist mein Glaube mit der Allgegenwart nach wie vor umstritten. / La existencia de una sublime es largo a menudo discutidas en diferentes avenidas. La religión no sólo celebra y explora, pero lo utiliza como una herramienta política para controlar. Qué se supone que debe ser un sistema que enciende la paz termina por incitar a la guerra. Si bien creo que podemos hacerlo mejor sin religión, mi creencia con la omnipresencia todavía es objeto de debate.

Translation: The existence of a sublime being is long often discussed in different avenues. Religion not only celebrates and explores about it, but uses it as a political tool to control. What is supposed to be a system that ignites peace ends up inciting war. While I think we can do better without religion, my belief with the omnipresence is still subject to debate.

· Did you have an intimate relationship with a male in the past? - 我认为在这些任务上花时间是一种浪费。这时间可以再洗他的、跟有趣的用权花上。

Translation: I find such pursuits to be a waste of time. Time that could be spent in other, more fascinating projects.

· Are there any other gays/lesbians in the family? Are gays/lesbians present in the community you grew up in? - Nuair a bheidh tú tuismitheoirí atá i gcónaí sa spotsolas, tá do phobal ceachtar spás beag taobh istigh de bosca nó rud taobh amuigh di. Dá bhrí sin, ní féidir liom an cheist a fhreagairt gan dul i muinín rhetorics. Maidir aon gays no lesbians eile sa teaghlach, tá tú ag caint leis an gcéad ghlúin.

Translation: When you have parents who are constantly in the spotlight, your community is either a small space inside a box or everything outside it. Thus, I can't answer the question without resorting to rhetoric's. As for any other gays or lesbians in the family, you are talking to the first generation.

· Why do you think some people hate lesbians? - Se sei stato abituato a detestare un determinato tipo di pratica fino da quando eri giovane, non c'è alcun genere di supplica o lettura che potrebbe aprire una mente chiusa e indottrinata.

Translation: If you have been conditioned to abhor a certain kind of practice since a young age, no amount of pleading or reading can open a closed, brainwashed mind.

· How important is being accepted by society? - مع أنه من المهم البكاء على الحليب المسكوب. يجب عليك ان تتعلم أن تهمل بعض الأشياء،مقابل صحتك العقلية .

Translation: As important as crying over spilled milk. Some things you have to learn to ignore, at the cost of your own sanity.

· Do you think you can convert/be converted into lesbianism? If so, how? Additional question. How does it affect society? -

Première étape:

Être mordu par une lesbienne.

Deuxième étape:

Attendre les effets secondaires.

Troisième étape:

Mettre un masque

Quatrième étape:

Terroriser les hétérosexuels avec des arcs en ciel et des parades gays.

Translation: Step one, get bitten by a lesbian. Step two, wait for the effects. Step three, wear a mask. Step four, terrorize heterosexuals with rainbows and gay parades.

Lynx has revealed many things from her answers, the more obvious being, she knew how to speak seven languages including, German, Spanish, Mandarin, Irish, Italian, Arabic, and French. Aside from that, she was very articulate. The terms she used were eloquent and well-formed. Which brought me to my third conclusion. She was definitely toying with me. If she was the alpha, it meant I was her prey. For what sadistic end, I wouldn't have known, but two could play that game.