Happy Endings Are All Alike. Sandra Scoppettone

took a long swallow of Tab. It was a device. She was tired of crying about her mother and though the pain had lessened somewhat it was still very much there. She’d learned that when she was on the verge of tears, swallowing something, moving from one spot to another or biting the insides of her cheeks stemmed the flow. The insides of her cheeks were raw and ragged. Drinking Tab was preferable.

      Jaret was never fooled by these tricks. She squeezed Peggy’s hand. “Want to go to the lake?”

      “Too cold. Let’s go to your house and take a walk in the woods.”

      The weather was unusually crisp for the end of June. They each put on a light jacket, started for the door. Claire, coming from the kitchen, met them in the hall. She jumped in an exaggerated fashion as though she’d stumbled onto Frankenstein’s Monster and the Spider Woman.

      “Oh, Claire,” Peggy said with despair.

      “I wasn’t expecting to meet anyone.”

      “Anyone? You are hopeless.”

      “I’m hopeless? You have some nerve, Miss Priss.” As always, Claire refused to look at Jaret. “And where are you going?”

      “We, Jaret and I,” she said deliberately, “are going for a walk. Want to come?” She knew Claire would not.

      “No thanks. I wouldn’t be caught dead.” Claire turned her back and went on up the stairs.

      Jaret felt depressed. It never failed. Claire’s disdain for their relationship always got to her. Peggy tried to make a joke of it but Jaret knew it affected her deeply. With a single look or word, Claire could sink them into terrible agony. It didn’t matter that they felt right about their love; Claire represented society and her constant putdown had an undermining effect. Jaret felt the same way now as she had the day Claire discovered them in each other’s arms.

      It was a month after Bianca had brought them together. Jaret spent the night, and in the morning Peggy awakened crying. It wasn’t an unusual way for her to start the day then; her pain was still very fresh. Jaret put her arms around Peggy and held her close, stroked her hair, murmured comfort. As they lay in bed the door opened and they both jumped.

      Claire stood in the doorway, her face turning pink, eyes narrowing behind her glasses. “Well, I . . . you . . . Just what I thought. Disgusting. I knew it. . . . I knew it.”

      “Knew what?” Peggy asked, trembling.

      “Knew that this was a deviant relationship, that’s what. I’m a psych major and I know all about these things.”

      “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Claire.” It was almost true. Way in the back of Peggy’s mind a small light was beginning but it was still very dim.

      “Don’t hand me that. Do you think I don’t have eyes? Do you think I’m a jackass? I saw you.”

      “Saw what?”

      Jaret, also quivering, stared at the ceiling. The accusation, though untrue, was not unfounded, at least not for her. She’d come to know quite clearly what she felt for Peggy, though she had never expressed it.

      “I saw,” Claire went on, her arms crossed over her breasts, “that you jumped out of each other’s arms when I opened this door.”

      “Number one,” Peggy said, anger giving her courage, “you have no right to come bursting into my room without knocking like some humungus prison guard. And number two, though it’s really none of your business, I was crying and Jaret was comforting me and that’s what you saw.”

      “Really? Then why did you jump like two guilty criminals?”

      “We . . . we . . . you frightened us.” She knew that wasn’t the truth but she also didn’t know what the truth was. Why had they jumped? She didn’t want to go on with this. It was making her angry and uncomfortable. “I wish you’d leave, Claire.”

      “I’ll bet you do. Well, we’ll see about this when Daddy comes home tonight.”

      “Fine. Now just split.”

      “Don’t worry. I’m not interested in being in the same room with a pair of perverts.” She slammed the door loudly but the word “pervert” slammed into them even harder.

      They lay very still, each on her own side of the bed. It was a long time before Peggy spoke.

      “Are you all right, Jare?”

      “I’m not sure.”

      Neither looked at the other.

      “She’s disgusting,” Peggy said.

      Jaret wondered if Peggy thought her sister was disgusting for disregarding her privacy or for making such an accusation. Since they’d become close friends, she and Peggy had talked about many things but never lesbianism. Now this suddenly seemed sinister to Jaret. Peggy was usually an open person, nonjudgmental. But perhaps for her, as for many other people, this subject was different. And perhaps Jaret had known it all along and that was why she’d never brought it up. That was why she’d never told this dear friend, someone she thought of as her other half, that for years and years she had been attracted to girls. Now she could never tell her.

      “You mustn’t let it get you,” Peggy said.

      When Jaret felt Peggy’s hand touch hers she pulled away as though she’d been scorched, threw back the covers and jumped out of bed. “I’ve got to get going,” she said.

      Peggy sat up, leaning on an elbow. “Going? Going where?” It was Saturday and they’d planned to spend the day together.

      “I have some errands . . . for my mother.”

      “You never said . . .”

      “I just remembered.”

      Jaret took her clothes into Peggy’s bathroom and shut the door.

      Peggy was alone with her thoughts. Why had they jumped? Why was Jaret acting so strange? Sure, what Claire said had been upsetting, but it was the kind of thing they would normally have found funny. But nothing felt funny; it felt awful. It was especially awful because Jaret was so obviously hurt. And that hurt her. She couldn’t stand Jaret to be hurt because . . . because she loved Jaret. Well, what the hell was wrong with that? There was nothing wrong with two women loving each other. Nothing at all. Her mother had loved her best friend, Renee, and wasn’t ashamed of it. You weren’t a pervert just because you loved someone of your own sex, for God’s sake!

      Jaret came out of the bathroom to find Peggy standing in the middle of the room, staring at her. It made her feel naked.

      “Listen, Jare, we’re not perverts because we love each other. You know that, don’t you? I mean, I love you, I really do. And I know you love me and so what? There’s nothing wrong with that and you can’t let Claire make some ugly gazinga out of it.”

      The final nail in the coffin, Jaret thought. If she’d had the slightest reservation about Peggy’s feelings they were perfectly clear now. Lesbianism was ugly to her.

      “Jare, do you hear me? Loving each other does not make us perverts.”

      “Oh, Peg,” she said, pushing past her, out of the room, down the stairs and out of the house.

      Peggy heard the car start up and take off with a squeal. What was going on? What was wrong with Jaret? She could just kill Claire!

      Quickly she dressed and went downstairs. Claire was waiting for her.

      “Lovers’ quarrel?”

      “Yes,” Peggy said. “Exactly. And it’s your fault.”

      “I’m telling Daddy.”

      “Claire, I don’t care who you tell. I love Jaret and I’m proud of it and the fact of the matter is you’re just jealous because no one loves you. And if you tell