When I left Kate's apartment, I leaned back on the closed door and put my head in my hands. I could hear her sobbing, and it was all I could do to keep from rushing back in to take her in my arms. I stood there for a long while, hoping she would open the door and come after me even though that was probably the worst thing that could happen. Sighing deeply, I walked slowly to the elevator and let it carry me to street level, then got in my car and drove away.
I knew I should probably go back to my studio and spend some time in the darkroom, but work was the last thing on my mind. I drove around aimlessly for a while, the memory of Kate's sweet body and face and touch still so vivid it seemed as if she were right there next to me. I was tormented with thoughts of losing her, but I knew life with her would be very difficult if she refused to accept the consequences of being in a lesbian relationship with someone as well known and outspoken as I am. I wanted so badly to go back to Kate's and convince her that being true to herself β and by extension, her art β would only serve to set her free, not confine her. I could understand her fear of being rejected; God knows, enough "reputable" galleries in the beginning rejected my work, but eventually the quality of it began to speak for itself, and those galleries that had so haughtily rejected me were now clamoring for me to hang exhibits.
It would do neither of us any good for me to go back now, though. Kate had to decide on her own that being with me was important enough to risk losing a few fans; otherwise, her decision would not be honest, and we would be in an even bigger mess than this one. I knew this from first-hand experience, having once tried to convince a former girlfriend that coming out would be the best thing that ever happened to her. I had basically dragged her, kicking and screaming, out of the closet before she was ready, and she still has not forgiven me for "ruining her fucking life", as she so eloquently puts it. Even though my intentions were in the right place, it was my own selfishness and unwillingness to understand her fears that ultimately caused our break up, and I will regret hurting her until my dying day.
I decided to drive over to Peter and Jeffrey's frame shop to pick up some work I was having done, and thought maybe I could have a chat with Peter and see if he had any advice for me. As usual, the shop was humming with activity both from the workshops in back and the main showroom. I hesitated as I walked in, thinking maybe this wasn't a good time for me to stop by to unburden my romantic woes, but Jeffrey looked up from his worktable and spotted me soon after the door behind me closed.
"Jordan! Darling, how ARE you?" he asked, coming to me and taking off his plastic goggles. When he embraced me, the familiar, homey smell of sawdust mixed with his cologne nearly brought me to tears. I hugged him back, hard, and he looked at me closely when he pulled back and held me at arm's length.
"Uh-oh," he said, looking down at me with a serious expression. "Something's wrong, isn't it?"
I tried to smile at him, but I felt my lips and chin begin to tremble, then my eyes blurred as the tears began to form.
"Damn it," I swore, pulling away from him as I wiped my eyes with my hands.
He pulled the safety goggles off and took my arm, steering me to the back where Peter was working. When Peter saw me, he grinned and turned off the saw he was working with, then concern flooded his face when he got a good look at me. Jeffrey sat me down on a stool in their office, where Peter joined us after taking off his apron and goggles.
"Okay, Jordan, what gives?" Jeffrey asked as he pulled a stool next to me and sat down.
"God, I feel like an idiot," I said, reaching for a tissue as the tears overflowed and ran down my face. Peter, looking on sympathetically, handed me the full box and patted me on the back before returning to his seat.
"Why, sweetie?" Jeffrey asked.
I looked at Peter. "It's Kate," I said.
"Kate? What about her? Is she all right?" Peter asked, half standing in concern.
"Yes, yes," I said, waving him back to his seat. "I mean, she hasn't been in an accident or anything, if that's what you're thinking."
Jeffrey looked at me, speculating. "Darling," he said to Peter, "I think this is more of a romance emergency than anything else. Am I right, Jordy?"
I sighed. "I'm afraid so," I said. "I think I pushed her too far too fast, and now I'm wondering if that was a wise thing to do."
Peter chuckled. "Jordan, tell us what happened, although I have a feeling I know," he said.
I told them the whole story, beginning from when I first saw Kate and how I hadn't been able to get her off of my mind and ending with my walking out of her apartment. When I finished, they sat there silently and I could feel a cold hand squeezing my heart as I waited to hear what they thought of the situation.
"Well, GOOD for you," Peter said suddenly. "I think it's about time someone decided to push Kate into admitting who she is."
"Really?" I asked.
"Oh, god yes," he said. "I've known Kate most of her life, and it drives me insane that she's so afraid to let loose and really live. She has ALWAYS done things carefully and by the book, and it's about time someone made her face facts and is forcing her to make some kind of decision!"
"I just feel so damn awful," I said, my initial surge of hope dissipating as I recalled the fear and sadness on Kate's face before I left her apartment. "She's so new at this, and here I am, already pushing her to come out and to hell with the consequences."
Peter stood and walked over to me, putting his hands on my shoulders. His brown eyes looked earnestly into mine.