Beneath the Surface(3)

“Don’t be such a coward,” she said to her reflection. “You’re not like this. You’re not like this at all.” Kristin had found that saying things out loud to herself worked toward spurring her into action. It wasn’t enough to think it or whisper it. The thought had to be voiced as loud and combative as possible. She conjured up Sheryl’s smile. Had she known that Kristin was a lesbian? Kristin didn’t think she looked like one at all, though it was starting to dawn on her, perhaps lesbians came in all shapes and sizes. Ha. What a novel idea. So what had given her away? The way she carried herself? Just her being there? Or perhaps Sheryl was just guessing. Perhaps she had even been engaging in some wishful thinking?

“I’m going to this party,” Kristin said out loud. “I’m a grown woman. Less than two weeks away from turning thirty. I am going to that lesbian party.” She took a deep breath, dug out a pair of jeans she didn’t often wear and a red blouse from her closet, applied a minimal amount of makeup, and went on her way.





Chapter Two





Sheryl had put herself down for three shifts at the party. The LAUS only had so many volunteers and she wasn’t that much of a dancer anyway. If she was working, she could do what she liked to do: look. She’d taken the first shift selling drink tokens, when the queue was still short, but someone had to be there for the early birds. Now she was on admission duty, collecting cover charges and doling out stamps to partygoers. Both jobs gave her an excellent opportunity to scout who turned up. Most of the faces were familiar, but she was pleased to note, many of the women she had never seen before, which meant that whatever PR they had done for this party had reached its target audience.

Inevitably, a few of Aimee’s students had showed up, one of whom had been ogling her from a spot across the hallway for at least half an hour. Not all TAs adhered to the university’s no fraternizing rule—Sheryl had seen that in action quite a few times since she had started the PhD program—but she wasn’t one of those. It was unethical. Although, of course, Professor Aimee White herself was notorious for picking a different student to bed each semester.

“Notoriety is not known for it’s truthfulness,” Aimee had told Sheryl when, in an extremely unguarded moment, Sheryl had confronted her with the rumors.

Sheryl sighed. She would talk to the girl later, after this shift had ended. She’d be cordial but distant enough to make clear that whatever was in the girl’s head was never going to happen. Then she focused her attention on the growing queue in front of her. The crowd was gathering. She was surrounded by lesbians and undoubtedly a few straight allies. Before every event, within LAUS, they always had very heated discussions on whether men were allowed in. Sheryl always argued for all-inclusiveness, but not all her colleagues shared her vision. In fact, most of them didn’t.

“Hey.” Sheryl had been focused on receiving much-needed money for the cause and stamping the inside of people’s hands when a familiar voice caught her attention. She looked up and straight into Kristin Park’s face. Her lipstick matched her blouse, and oh my, Sheryl liked the non-business look on her—a lot.

“You came.” A huge smile spread on Sheryl’s lips.

“I did.” Kristin offered her hand. Sheryl took it in hers and, as gently as she could, applied the ink of the stamp to the skin of her palm, as though Kristin’s hand was much more delicate than all the other hands she had treated to the same ink before, and the application of it needed special care.

“Enjoy the party.” She shot Kristin an encouraging smile. “I’ll be done here in a bit.”

Sheryl didn’t have time to watch Kristin be swallowed up by the ever-growing crowd. She had people to admit to the party, and the rest of her shift was spent on automatic pilot, working as fast as she could. Sheryl was no stranger to organizing parties like this. She’d joined LAUS as a student almost ten years ago, when it had still been in its infancy and they had trouble being recognized as an official university association. She was a veteran now. It took bigger things to faze her than a long queue of women eager to party. Like the thought of Kristin on the dance floor, being hit on by someone else. Sheryl couldn’t wait for her shift to end. Kristin had come, which could only mean one thing.



As Kristin advanced into the mass of women—more women than she’d ever seen gathered in one place—she hoped she wouldn’t run into Petra. Or anyone from work—though would that really be so bad? After picking up some drink tokens, she made her way to the bar and ordered a glass of white wine. She was glad to find it nicely chilled and welcomed that first fresh sip sliding down her throat. A few more of those and most of her nerves would be kept at bay.