Chapter 9

To give deeper understanding to a particular topic, interviews, questionnaires, and surveys would never be enough. That's why I decided to do an observation through a segment called 'A week in the life of a lesbian.' It should have been a day, but it wouldn't be enough to gather the proper data for the book. My goal was to test and debunk common misconceptions about lesbians by following my subject for a week. We'd meet whenever she was available.

"Can you introduce yourself to our readers?" I said, placing the recording device directly under her chin. "You can use a nickname for anonymity. Nobody will know your face. You have my word."

"I'm Joe," she said.

The segment has barely begun, but I have already debunked a misconception about lesbians through Joe. It was a stroke of luck that lead me to her the other night. I was leaving the Midnight Cafe when I saw her lingering outside, peering at the glass pane. Clad in a black button down and jeans, a tattoo on her neck, cropped hair, and black rimmed glasses, one would immediately think that she was the 'butch' type, or the aggressive one among the lot. Though she did tell me that she identified as that stereotype, she wasn't aggressive at all. Joe, for all intents and purposes, was a shy girl.

Debunked: Butch lesbians, masculine as they were on the outside, didn't always equal aggressive behavior. That would mean that Femme's and other types could have different personalities and traits too. They were normal people, ladies and gents.

"Right, Joe," I said, shifting the recorder back to me. "As we agreed, I'll follow you for a span of a week without getting in your way, like a shadow. So where are you taking your shadow for the first day?"

"We're going to meet with my brother and best friend just around the corner," she mumbled. "We'll eat lunch, then hopefully watch a baseball game in the afternoon. I don't often do this, but since it's a weekend, I have extra time on my hands."

Day 1

After walking a couple of blocks, Joe waved to two males who looked like they were in their twenties like her. They were dressed similarly to Joe, though they didn't have the glasses and tattoo. From the way they spoke, it looked like the three were comfortable with each other. She'd explained what was going to happen before meeting them, so they let me tail their backs. At first, the three were reluctant, always looking behind like they were followed by the paparazzi, but after ten minutes of conversation, they soon forgot that I was there.

The pizzeria where we were having lunch was nothing out of the ordinary. It was a dingy type that you'd pass by on your way to another building. I took the next table so I wouldn't disturb them while they ate. For lunch, I got myself two slices of Neapolitan pizza. Yummy! Excuse my manners. Would you like some?

The conversation they were having centered on Joe and the girl she liked. "Why don't you just tell her?" Joe's brother asked. "You've known her for what, five years? She's been in and out of bad relationships. Maybe it's time you rescue her." From my observations, he was nothing like his sister and didn't seem to have trouble saying what was on his mind.

Joe kept her eyes on the pizza. "I don't think I'm right for her," she murmured.

This was good. I've stumbled on a girl who was apparently secretly in love with another girl.

"Bullshit," Joe's best friend said. "Who's been there when she broke up with her first boyfriend? You. Who's been there when she discovered that she was a lesbian? You. Who's been there when she repeatedly got cheated on by her exes? Damn right, you. Hand me your phone," he said to Joe. "I'm giving that girl a piece of my mind for acting so shitty."

I smiled as I chewed on my Neapolitan. Both the brother and the best friend reminded me of my relationship with Lulu and Casper.

Joe's hand traveled nervously to her pocket. "No way," she objected. "If she's going to know, it better come from me."

"Sooner rather than later," her brother warned. "Or we'll do something about it." I continued listening and watching the three of them, finishing my remaining pizza. They had a remarkable relationship, these three. Joe was the shy one. The brother was the speaker. Her best friend was the doer.

Debunked: Not all lesbians hated men. Whoever started that misconception clearly haven't seen Joe's mini family or have been staying too long in their caves. Joe's brother and best friend had a supportive and loving relationship with her, and I have no doubt that in times of need, she too would come to their aid.

Day 2

"We're visiting the church today," Joe said, stopping the engine of her car. It was afternoon of the second day, and she has just picked me from the bookstore. "My parents are very religious. Every Sunday, without fail, we've attended mass and listened to the sermon of the priest. I go here whenever my mind is messy or I want to wish for something to happen." I followed her out of the car. "Yesterday, I thought about what my brother said, so I'm going to ask God for a sign."

I stared at the structure that we were getting closer to. The stained glass of the church illustrated doves and angels soaring in the sky, free from the pandemonium on earth. I stopped just outside the huge wooden doors. "I don't want to be a bother," I said to Joe. "Meet me back here when you're finished praying." She nodded solemnly and went inside, head bowed, shoulders forward.

Debunked: Lesbians, depending on who you'd talk to, could be spiritual too. For many, their life was a sin, but that wouldn't stop people like Joe who just wanted to live her life properly with the guidance of the supreme being she worshipped.

When I looked up, the altar boy was staring at me from inside. The same one that Lulu and I encountered before. "El Diablo," he mouthed, doing the sign of the cross. Not this again. That was the go-signal I was looking for to go back to the car.

Later that day, Joe would tell me that the 'altar boy' was the priest's son out of wedlock. Though mentally disturbed, they allowed him to stay in the church where he wasn't bothering anyone. Let the innocent cast the first stone as they said- for the priest who forgot his vow, the altar boy who thought I was the devil, and for Joe who was committing a sin in the eyes of the equally guilty, for something she could do nothing about.

Day 3

I was ecstatic to know on the third day that Joe and I would be meeting at the Midnight Cafe. It had felt like days since I've been there, and I've been missing the ambiance and the coffee. Joe got rid of the button down shirt in favor of a more snappy cardigan and khaki's, paired with black shoes. Her glasses were gone too, replaced by contact lenses that brightened her face.

"What's with the get-up?" I asked. There was a bouquet of flowers on her hand, and she smelled of a different cologne than what she'd used when we previously met. I grinned. "Don't tell me. . ."

"Wish me luck," she said, returning my grin. Hers were self-conscious.

Joe opened the door, letting me inside first. What a gentleman. No, forget that. Even women could open doors for others. She was a polite person. I watched her drag her feet to a petite girl, all alone by a table. Though the subject of my observations, I decided to give Joe today.

Something brushed on my hands, jerking me from thoughts of the study. I scowled after the figure. It was Lynx, wearing a cotton t-shirt and fitted jeans, back turned to me, heading to her reserved table. I went after her.

She was unsurprised to see me sink on the chair in front of her, as if she was expecting that kind of reaction. At the same time, my practiced speech disappeared when I got a better look of her face. She was more imposing under the light. A painting that has come to life. "Just what do you think you're doing?" I said.

She tilted her head. "Sitting here, relaxing. How about you?" That low, deliberate voice of hers could have been swearing in French and you'd still think she was telling you she loves you in English.

"You weren't relaxing a couple of days ago when you were driving a taxi," I accused, gathering my thoughts. "You brought me here. I know it. And then there's the cinema and the restaurant." I glanced at the counter. Granny barista was busy tending to the coffee brew to notice me berating her precious Lynx. Well she started it. "You were in the spa too."

She smirked, the animal. "What exactly did I do to you to get that kind of reaction?" she asked.

"You. . ." A chill ran down my spine.

She pulled her chair closer to the table. "Yes?" she whispered. "What did I do, Scotland? That's your name, isn't it? I'd like to know in detail what happened between us at the spa. If you're going to point fingers and accuse me of something, you have to be specific about it. Run it to me one by one." My hands clenched. I applaud her for knowing how to play her cards well. She'd won for now, but that wouldn't stop me from getting even.

I pushed my chair back to stand. "This isn't over. I'll be back." She shrugged and glanced at me from head to toe, burning her eyes on my body along the way. "Too bad you can't touch this again," I said. "Oh, and your interview came out really nice. I'm not turning into a stalker like you anytime soon, but I'm going to get in your head like you're doing to me one of these days."

"I look forward to it," she said, flipping her hair in challenge. She really shouldn't have said that. I smiled sarcastically at her and got out of the cafe.

Debunked: Not all lesbians have daddy issues. Some of them were just mentally screwed by themselves, like Lynx. Sorry, not sorry.

Day 7

Joe was swamped with work for three days because her co-worker was absent, so it was on the final day that we were able to see each other again. It was excellent all the same because she and her friend-turned-girlfriend were having their first date.

"Are you sure it's okay if I tag along?" I asked. I wasn't embarrassed to be a third wheeler, though I've developed a soft spot for the shy girl who'd finally achieved her dreams. A first date was important for most couples. They'd want to be alone. Not to me though. It had always been like an ordinary day whenever a boyfriend asked me out.

"My prayers have been answered," Joe said, eyes on the road while she drove. "I don't know what it is about you, but you are a good luck charm to me. Helping you with your research is the least I can do." We stopped by a three storey building. After a few minutes, Joe's girlfriend entered the car, smelling of fresh perfume and excitement. "Have I introduced you to Sasha?" Joe asked, trying to sound under control. She was fooling no one but herself.

"I believe you haven't," I said. Sasha and I shook hands. "Thank you for allowing me to go with you. I won't be a creeper, promise." Lies. All lies.

Sasha was a perfect match to Joe. While the latter was meek, the other was outgoing. She liked telling stories and would give anecdotes about their adventures in the five years they have been friends. Before Joe told her how she felt, Sasha had been in a series of unfortunate relationships, first with men, and later with lesbians. Her parents thought it was a phase, but Sasha begged to differ.

Debunked: You could never outgrow being a lesbian because it had nothing to do with age or the monthly menstrual cycle. Saying that to them would create feelings of anguish and would be the fastest way for a heterosexual person to drive a lesbian from their life, family or otherwise.

Joe and Sasha loved sharing Mexican food, so for their first date, they went to a restaurant that served burritos and quesadillas. I chose the farthest spot from them to observe. The first few minutes went well. It wasn't after an hour and they were asking for the bill did the problem arise. I thought better than to intervene. Only when they really needed my help would I do that.

"What was the problem?" I said in the car, on our way home. Sasha and Joe had managed to settle the issue and looked calm enough to ask.

Sasha put a supporting hand on Joe's shoulder. "This marshmallow went nuts when the staff insisted that she get the bill because she looked like the guy in the relationship. It's not that Joe didn't like to pay. She thought it was a bit unfair to assume that we should take on roles. It always happens. She shouldn't get bothered by it."

"It's my right as a person to disagree with what I think is wrong," Joe grumbled.

Debunked: There was no 'man' in a lesbian relationship. It made sense since they were both women.

"Anyway, are you going to the party, Scotland?" Sasha said. "It's two weeks from now at a place called 'The Cove.' Lesbian parties like that don't come around often except for the cafe, but when they do, you get to chill with like-minded people. If you want to observe for your project, I suggest you go there."

"Done," I said. "How do I get in?"

Joe glanced at Sasha. "You forgot that it's an invite only, hon," she said. I saw her brows furrow on the rearview mirror. "You need to have a partner or a friend who was invited to get there. I know someone who's available though," Joe said. "Lynx is always VIP in those events. Nine out of ten, she doesn't attend, but that one time she did, she didn't take a date. You were talking to her the other day weren't you? Ask her out."