Kites

It was not the kind of day that Janelle would have chosen to fly her kite. But time seemed at once to stretch beyond the limits of the gray-blue sky that blended seamlessly with the restless waves as they slapped onto the wet sand, and at the same time seemed to close in upon her like the fat murky clouds hanging listlessly over the endless horizon of the Pacific Ocean.

She fingered the smoothness of the rainbow windsock, lingering absentmindedly along the double-seamed edges that separated the colors. Karel, of course, had one just like it. At this very moment, Karel was in her secret hideaway cove somewhere on the Oregon coast, hundreds of miles north of Santa Cruz where Janelle was visiting for Christmas vacation. For Karel, however, the warmth of home was just six blocks away. Janelle’s home was two thousand miles east of where she stood.

Now Janelle stretched her lean supple body upwards, hands reaching toward the sky, offering it the colorful nylon fabric. The nearly invisible kite string was wound neatly on its wooden core, which Janelle held securely in her hands. But the Goddess of the Winds was silent, refusing her gift, for this moment.

The last time that the Goddess had accepted her offering was on a Galveston beach three years ago. It was then that Janelle Roark and Jewel Diamond had spent Thanksgiving vacation together—their last romantic weekend before Jewel had moved away.

“I’m moving to San Francisco in December,” Jewel had announced to Janelle earlier that summer.

The words had stung with incredible pain, even though it had not come with surprise to Janelle. For many months, she had hung on to an unlikely hope that Jewel would eventually give up on her fantasies about Robin Lind, the blonde bombshell in San Francisco whom Jewel had “found” through America Online.

Still, Janelle and Jewel had continued to spend precious weekends together, usually at Jewel’s house. Sometimes they would drive into Dallas to visit gay friends, and other times they would just share life together in Jewel’s four-bedroom suburban home that she had managed to acquire after that godawful divorce from her children’s father.

Ah, yes, the children! Janelle loved children, of course. She was a middle-school teacher, devoting her life to education and enrichment of the little darlings, offspring of poverty-level residents in rural north central Texas. Why, Janelle often wondered, was it so difficult for Jewel to understand that she only had Tina’s best interests at heart?

Janelle and Tina, Jewel’s young teen daughter, got along just fine together when Jewel wasn’t around. They both loved shopping in thrift stores, discovering great bargains for themselves and for each other. Tina especially had a knack for finding nearly new designer clothes that had been discarded by affluent Dallas socialites. Like Janelle, Tina loved little trinkets, collectibles, cutesy things that filled curio shelves and dresser tops.

But life was not always so pleasant when Jewel’s attention was necessarily shared between Janelle and Tina. Like the ubiquitous washing machine that could not accommodate more than one load of clothes at a time, Jewel seemed unable to please both Janelle and Tina at the same time.

The washing machine at Jewel’s house was Tina’s one point of control over Janelle and what she could do in Mom’s house. Janelle would have had to go to the laundromat if she hadn’t done her laundry at Jewel’s house on the weekends. Tina typically left clothes in both the washer and dryer and dared anyone, even her own mother, to remove them—even if they were folded and put away for her—without her “permission.” To Janelle, such behavior on Tina’s part was unreasonable and childish. Jewel tended to become oblivious to it all, burying herself in her computer.

Still, the intimate Saturday nights together in Jewel’s bedroom, the lazy Sunday afternoons at Botanical Gardens or window shopping in Parks Mall, or occasional weekend trips to visit Jewel’s son Todd at boarding school in Oklahoma, seemed to make everything worth it. Janelle recognized Jewel’s parental obligations to her under-age children. But the children would grow up—eventually—and perhaps then Janelle and Jewel could seriously consider cohabitation, instead of the usual two-day weekends.

By then, Robin Lind would have undoubtedly disappeared, given up waiting for Jewel as her old girlfriend Sharla had done shortly after Janelle had first met Jewel. Robin had a nearly grown son who had stayed back east with his father when Robin had moved to California just before the boy’s fourteenth birthday. Robin had been essentially “free” for nearly three years now. Why would she ever relinquish her precious freedom to help Jewel raise Tina?

“I’m moving to San Francisco in December.” Jewel’s words echoed again in Janelle’s mind, as she continued to stare into the foggy coastal expanse before her. Even now she remembered the overwhelming emptiness that had engulfed her. Logic would have dictated that she should back away, distance herself from the source of such intense pain that was, at the same time, such a source of ultimate pleasure and fulfillment. But Janelle had long since determined to follow her heart, even at the risk of certain devastation.

So when Tina announced that she was going to spend Thanksgiving vacation in San Francisco with “Auntie Robin,” Janelle had been quick to decide what she wanted to do.

“And Todd is spending Thanksgiving with his Dad?” Janelle never missed a detail.

Jewel nodded. “That way I make sure Todd spends Christmas with me!”

“Let’s go to the beach, hon.” If I don’t get this trip with Jewel now, I’ll never have another chance.

Jewel brightened at the idea of spending the time alone with Janelle. It would definitely be a “different” kind of holiday than what she had known with husband and children for the past twenty years. “Corpus? Galveston?”

Janelle already had the brochures—restaurants, boat charters, maps, and a quiet little bungalow just past the busy commercialized beach strip, but within walking distance of everything that one went to the beach for. It was settled.

A sharp gust of December wind whipped through Janelle’s short brown hair, reminding her of the lifeless kite still in her hand. Instinctively, she lifted it above her head. For a short moment, the ocean’s quick breath caught the nylon cloth, whispering the kite into a spiral above her reach. Then the kite fluttered helplessly back onto the sand.

Janelle’s spirits had soared that weekend with Jewel in Galveston, even if only for a moment of life. She had refused to dwell on the reality of Jewel’s imminent departure from Texas, choosing instead to bask in the comfortable togetherness that they had shared for over two years. Even now she could hear the poignant songs of Bette Midler on her latest album that she and Jewel had listened to in bed. She could taste the authentic English fish ‘n’ chips they had ordered in while they watched a new movie, The Net, enjoying both the computer technology theme and the smooth acting of Sandra Bullock as the main character. She could feel Jewel’s soft brown skin in the darkened bedroom, the silkiness of her long black hair, and sense the sweetness of her distinct woman-scent, alive with the pheromones that had promised unending passion.

Sunday afternoon had been the finale when Janelle and Jewel, on their way out of Galveston, had stopped at a kite shop where Janelle had chosen the very kite that she now held in her hands. Jewel was not a kite-flyer, but she shared Janelle’s enthusiasm for her sport. The Goddess had been gracious that day, taking the new kite in her breath, whisking it upwards and out over the steel-blue Gulf waters that rolled their foamy waves onto the shore. The rainbow colors danced high in the translucent sky, so high that it seemed they would swirl into the wispy cotton clouds. The kite-dance was one of joyous freedom, of celebrating its very own existence, defying all earth-forces that would have held it on the ground.

Janelle’s spirit had been alive and free for that moment. But, like the kite that eventually descended from her flight, Janelle had to face the reality of Jewel’s moving day.

“Dang it!” Janelle spoke aloud, though there was no one except a lone sea gull to hear her expletive of disgust. The ocean fog had turned into a light drizzle, settling onto the kite and into Janelle’s hair. She turned to seek shelter in a recessed area of the rocky cliff that lined this isolated section of the beach. She watched the rain for several minutes. Will I ever be able to fly this blasted kite?!

Her tears had been frequent during the first weeks of Jewel’s absence. Yes, there was e-mail and telephone, but the physical touch was missing.

“I love you,” Jewel and Janelle continued to write to each other. “You’ll always be my best girlfriend.” That part was true. Never before in their lives had either woman felt the closeness of bonding that they had shared in their friendship during the past two years.