Any Way Out - 5. Falling

Clarity came not.

Ashley found her way out of the ‘hood and made her way downtown. She went straight for the cafe near the office. She couldn't think on an empty stomach, but what about a full one?

Nothing doing. Ashlee was discovering that there wasn’t anything she could eat or drink to make it better. Her gleaming shoes crackled around her feet. She'd bought them when she moved in, intending to exercise. That might clear her up.

Ashlee had always wanted to check out the C&O Canal National Park. She parked and hoofed it a mile and a half up the canal trail. She people-watched, took in historical markers, and appreciated gallant kayakers on the Potomac. She'd soon had enough, and she trudged back to the car, mainly pondering how long this was going to take, and how hot the hoodie was getting. She ardently wished for a bra so she could take the heavy garment off without giving the general public a free show.

Ashlee eventually reached her car. Driving home, her thoughts turned to the bikable roads around her building. Reaching her parking lot, she skipped down to her locker, extracted her bicycle from where it moldered, and started pumping the front tire. She screamed when it exploded three inches from her face. There was a spare tube in her toolbox, but no levers. She could improvise.

Ashlee fairly flew up her stairs. She screamed again when she saw someone had trashed her apartment, until she remembered it had been her. No time for that now. She traded out her jeans for gym shorts and holstered her guns in a sports bra. Feeling more secure as she bounced back down the stairs, she ran back to her locker. She butterknifed the tire off the vehicle, pulled the punctured tube, puffed its replacement into shape, and massaged the repaired tire onto the rim. She pumped it up rock hard, then moved to the rear. This one cracked and wheezed its last at 65 PSI. “Fuck this!”

Ashlee stomped up to her place and slammed the door. She splayed herself on the bed, and passed out from sheer exhaustion.

***

Ashlee knew no more until her eyes popped open at seven, her right cheek resting in a healthy puddle of drool. Well, at least I was only out an hour and a half. Hold on, the light's all wrong. Damn! It's Sunday! Five hours to go!

Panicking, she thought a clean apartment might do the trick, but after an hour, an orderly outer space did nothing for her jumbled inner space. I am not going to figure this out on my own. She found the company phone tree on the refrigerator. There was one woman she trusted who hadn't weighed in. She slid her right index finger down to the P’s and punched the number into her phone with her clumsy left thumb.

“Ashlee? Is something wrong?”

Uyen was instantly on high professional alert. Ashlee stopped to appreciate her reputation around the office. “No, not really, Uyen. Actually, yes, but not about work. It’s me.”

“Okay, yes, tell me?”

“Uyen, I’m about to fuck things up between me and Felicity, it’s completely my fault, and I can’t work it out on my own. Can I meet you somewhere? It has to be this morning.”

Uyen rejoined with a scold. “What did you do to that girl?” She then took some of the spin off her attitude, but continued earnestly, “I mean, yeah, I’d love to help, but if it’s relationship advice you want, I think you got the wrong girl. Have you tried Sarah?”

“...eeeeerrryyyes?”

Uyen's tongue clicked over the phone. “Oh, I see. Let me guess, she prescribed casual sex. Well, I’m about to go to church. Can you come see me after that?”

“You go to church?” Ashlee knew hardly anyone in Washington, and no one she thought a churchgoer.

Uyen’s tone turned patronizing. “Duh. You’ve seen the eyes, right? Remember how long it took you to stop saying ‘Ooh-yen’? Vietnamese Catholic, Ashlee. Yeah, I go to church. That Catholic guilt really, really works.”

This was new territory for Ashlee. Catholics were straight out of the Book of Revelation for some people in her parents’ church; something about the “Whore of Babylon”.

“Are a lot of Vietnamese people Catholic?”

“Well, most of them that go to Catholic churches are.”

“Uyen, it’s too early for this. I don’t know. Are homosexuals even allowed in your church? Should you even be talking to me about this? “

Uyen's voice grew gentler. “Ashlee, remember three days ago I personally escorted a woman for a gay tryst in the workplace? I was Catholic then, too. Trust me, it’s fine. If you want to talk, catch me after church. There are donuts and coffee -- church coffee -- after nine o’clock Mass. I’ll be there. Unless you want to come to Mass, too, that is?”

“That means like a church service, right?

Ashlee heard a deep rasping sigh over the phone, which she translated as, Don’t you know anything? Uyen clarified, “Yes, church service. It starts at nine. If you want to chat over donuts, it should be over at about 9:45 or 9:50. St Francis in Arlington. Google it.”

Mom would shit a literal brick if I went to a Catholic church. “I’m in. See you at nine.”

***

Just five minutes before nine, Ashlee was clambering up the steps of St. Francis, a massive square edifice studded with wings and breezeways. Bells tolled in a low tower above her, and an intermittent trickle of people streamed in beside her. Inside the half-full but pregnantly silent space, she hesitated in apprehension by a colossal bowl of water. Her eyes frantically darted among the pews, which radiated concentrically in semicircles from a central dais to where she anxiously tarried. Everything on the dais, two pulpits, an altar, and a high table bearing an elaborate gold box and red lantern, were decked in purple, nearly clashing with the green carpets. An enormous cross, suspended from the ceiling, dominated the church, and surveying from where he was nailed, hung the most horrifying bloody, bony Christ she’d ever seen.

Ashlee’s eyes at last alighted on Uyen, kneeling near the front, among a loose knot of Asian families. As Ashlee hurried down the aisle, Uyen switched to sitting, then patted the spot to her left when she saw Ashlee. Ashlee blinked at Uyen for a second. Having no dedicated church clothes, Ashlee had thrown on her Monday outfit with the red dress shirt; but Uyen looked right at home in a hoodie and jeans. In fact, glancing around, Ashlee found she was the only suit in the place, heightening the alien feeling the church held for her.

A man on the dais announced the arrival of “Father Manuel”. As the congregation rose to its feet, Uyen produced from her purse a densely worded brochure-thing which she pressed into Ashlee’s hand. Uyen extended her left pinky, indicated “Procession” on the leaflet’s first line, and trailed the digit down the page. Ashlee was to follow along.

She tried. There was a lot of standing and sitting, and Uyen was hissing mystifying whispered explanations on why they were skipping one thing or adding something else. A lengthy set of Bible readings was followed by a ten-minute sermon, an extended allegory on “The Little Mermaid”. After that was a lot more sitting, standing, kneeling, and shaking hands with strangers. At one point Uyen got up to leave, and pushed Ashlee down when she tried to follow. She soon circled back, and she nudged past Ashlee to resume kneeling in her place. Shortly after that, Father Manuel recessed out to some exit music, and it was donut time.

In the nearby social hall, each woman selected a single pastry from the stacks of boxes. Uyen took a long, puffy cinnamon twist. Her ego in the dumps, Ashlee felt the best she deserved was a sad, drab little cake donut to go with the sepia liquid that issued from an ancient percolator. A big round table full of happy Vietnamese chatter waved them over, but Uyen, after briefly introducing Ashlee, steered them to a corner table where they sat opposite each other.

Uyen began: “Did you understand anything that just happened in there?”

Ashlee shook her head and shrugged. The brochure had been almost no help. Uyen nodded with a disappointed sigh. “Well, next time, maybe. What’s up?”

Ashlee relived everything for Uyen’s ears, who focused intently while methodically gnawing away at the huge donut. Ashlee had to raise her voice over the din of raucous laughter, scampering, screaming children, and the grind of chairs on the tile floor. Uyen shushed her when people got too close. It wasn't long before Ashlee reached the central conflict. Uyen’s eyes popped all the way open and she gasped in appropriate astonishment.

“No way! Felicity? Are you sure?"

At Uyen's question, she suddenly wasn't. "Er, I didn't actually -- you know -- see it.” Uyen beckoned the thoughts from Ashlee and her certainty returned. "She said so, and when I took another look, it was obvious.”

Uyen shut her eyes tight. Ashlee could see them rolling around under the lids as she gave her mental Felicity a once-over. Ashlee waited for Uyen to give her verdict. “I don't see it. I'd have to look at her again. But no one would lie about that, right?" Uyen took Ashlee's quivering icy hands. “It's okay, keep going.”

Uyen stroked Ashlee's arm as the following hours of her tale flowed by. At the part about Sarah, Uyen clicked her tongue like a machine gun, and groaning, shook her head.

“What a terrible thing to say," Uyen whispered. “We're going to have a talk with her. I don't care what she's going through, she doesn't get to take it out on you."

“Is she having trouble?" Ashlee had never known Sarah to have trouble with anything. Well, except for when she'd had to repeat half her senior year at UVA.

“Difficulty keeping up at work, she’s got no car, there’s some money stuff. Plus, she hangs a lot of her self worth on quality, er, romantic experiences, which because of the above, she isn't getting. She needs a friend. Big time. I can't get through to her. We're going to have to hit it together. But keep going; you're doing great.”

Ashlee recounted to the end of Saturday morning and petered out, ending with a rattling, "What do you think?." Just as well, because the crowd and its concealing burble were clearing out. Uyen stuffed the last half inch of donut into her mouth, then licked each finger of her right in sequence before wiping on a napkin. Ashlee waited, morosely nibbling at her own dry, insipid snack.

Uyen's first question was, “Why the ticking clock? Seems a bit dramatic."

Ashlee looked down, mortified. "I always put a deadline on agreements. It ensures compliance, and … oh, God, how stupid am I?”

"There's still over ninety minutes left. We won't need that long.” Uyen pulled on her cold coffee, then stared at the ceiling.

Ashlee spent a minute not tapping her foot, drumming her fingers, or bouncing a knee. The excess energy went instead to clenching her jaw and a quaking left -- non-donut -- hand, which Uyen again held in her own, but said nothing. Ashlee had just swallowed the last of the donut when the oracle spoke.

“I’m going to try and sum up, and you tell me if I’m close.” Uyen diminished her voice as some parishioners passed near. “I hear you say that you want to be with Felicity as a woman, but you don’t think you can handle her man’s body. You’re confused, you’re scared, you wish it could be easy, but it’s not.”

Ashlee mouthed Yes, but only a rasping strangle came out around the sandy remains of the cake donut. Ashlee downed her frigid alleged coffee in a gulp.

"I'm going to warn you, Ashlee, what I am going to say comes less from personal experience and more from girl talk, watching my family, other families, and a bit of Sunday School. Remember, you asked for my opinion, which means you get it. Understand?"

"Sunday School?" Ashlee asked with a yuck.

"I'll try to keep it light. I can tell one sermon per day has been enough for you. Aaaaah, let's see …” The place had almost cleared out, but Uyen's seeking gaze settled on a young Vietnamese family: a man, a woman holding a baby, and three tiny children careering around the tables. Ashlee twisted around to look as well.

“They're the Ngo family. Van and Dai. They look great, don't they? Barely thirty, four kids, God knows how. I never will."

Ashlee observed the couple in their earnest counsel. For all she knew, it could be burning passion or negotiating the day's schedule. Dai bounced the baby on her thigh as the infant cooed. Van babbled back and tickled the child, then squeezed his wife's knee.

"They're cute," Ashlee concluded.

Uyen nodded and gave a tiny mock gag. "And how. Well, they seem perfect, but they're not. Dai complains about Van a little when it's just us girls, but it sounds like he also picks up the slack with the house and the kids, puts up with her when she's a little crazy. He's loyal, tender, and forgiving. Once she had a lot to drink at a party and I found out that the sex was, well, moderate in frequency, but really good -- and she knows."

Ashlee, a little surprised at Uyen, had her mouth open in slight shock. "Are you serious right now?"

Uyen waved it off. "She couldn't even have been there if Van hadn't taken over the kids, so he deserved the props."

Ashlee, sighed, leaned forward, and cradled her brow in her right fingertips. "What do your hetero-normative breeders have to do with me, Uyen?"

"A lot, I think. Let's think about. I told you my dad has a business, right?"

Ashlee's eyes looked up from her bent head. "What kind of business?"

Uyen puffed and rolled her eyes. "Dry cleaning. Don't even say anything."

"I wasn't going to."

"Point is, a lot of people came through and chatted, and we heard about all kinds of love lives. The best ones were where two people worked out boundaries, which were always moving, but they could cross them with care and humbly ask for forgiveness. Love is what glues the whole thing together."

Uyen waved at the room in general. “Do you know what this place thinks about gay people, Ashlee? Watch this.” Uyen’s suddenly unseeing eyes looked straight through Ashlee’s unbelieving face as she monotoned:

Homosexual acts are intrinsically disordered. They are contrary to the natural law. They close the sexual act to the gift of life. They do not proceed from a genuine affective and sexual complementarity. Under no circumstances can they be approved. Homosexual persons are called to chastity. By the virtues of self-mastery that teach them inner freedom, at times by the support of disinterested friendship, by prayer and sacramental grace, they can and should gradually and resolutely approach Christian perfection.

“Quoting here," she finished with strobing blinks. “Official Catholic position."

"That sounded word for word. A little unrealistic,” said Ashlee, skeptically.

“Well, I'm a little unreal,“ snickered Uyen. “So, what they're saying is that only boys and girls can really be in love with each other, right?”

"Obviously bullshit." Ashlee grumbled softly. She still thought she heard it echo around the emptying social hall.

“That should be obvious to anyone with eyes and ears these days,” concurred Uyen. “'I mean, 'self mastery', 'inner freedom', 'disinterested friendship'; right or wrong, it still sounds pretty silly. I don’t know who’s supposed to be able to do that. But you know what else they say about love?”

Uyen’s eyes rolled up and she drew a breath. This time, Ashlee stretched out a hand and grasped -- but resisted shaking -- Uyen's slight shoulder.

“Please, just come to the point."

Uyen sneered in jest, “Spoilsport. I can do gender identity, too, if you want."

"Uyen … “

“Fine. Basically, we put a high standard on love. Say you have two people who are crazy about each other, we see that all the time. But, when a Catholic gets married, you stop being two people, and you become one body with the other person. Each promises to be everything to the other for life, no matter what. That means love isn't just fun all the time. It's an act of will, and comes from two people being the best to each other they can possibly be. We believe that God becomes visible to everyone around when a marriage is done right. That's why sex is such a big deal for us. It's the deepest form of love; total submission of each to the other.”

Ashlee interrupted, "So, does that mean you're a … "

“Oh, ah, er --“ Uyen's hands automatically clasped over her lap, and a flush filled her features. Ashlee cocked an eyebrow and smirked. A few seconds later, the crimson started draining from her cheeks and ears, and Doctor Uyen was back in. “Ahem. Sorry. Everyone makes mistakes, Ashlee. Who am I to judge? It is super fun -- so I hear -- but it's best when it's between two people who really care.”

"That all sounds deep," marveled Ashlee. "So I just need to take it seriously, decide to love, and it happens? What if it's too hard?"

"It'll be as hard or easy as it needs to be. For Catholics, if you find a good match and love the hardest you can, you pray for the Holy Spirit to kind of carry you the rest of the way. For you, I don't know where you'll find your spirit, but if it's important, you will.

“You know, some people go straight with what the Church says that only men and women can be together, because it’s easy to be ‘right’,” -- this was in air quotes -- “but I'm not so sure anymore. A lot of people think it can be men - men, women - women, too. I’m not sure if you and Felicity fit in a category, but maybe it can be any two people who are willing to put the effort in. Maybe go and give it a shot”

“Maybe it doesn’t matter if I’m a ‘real’ lesbian like Sarah said?" Ashlee considered aloud.

Uyen nodded to the Ngo family again. Mama Dai was scooping up the two smaller children, while Papa Van chased the other two under a table. “Anyone who wants that has a right to it. Us Catholics, and really everyone, have a lot to learn about love and who can enjoy it. Now that we're looking, we can see all different kinds of love that have the same power as what we’re used to, but it'll be a while yet before we catch up. You, however, are here now. Wake up to yourself a little. I can tell you want to love Felicity. You need to decide: Can you do it?"

Ashlee crossed her arms, slouched, and chewed her lip. Uyen looked up with a bright greeting for Dai Ngo, who had just dropped a little card in a white envelope between them, then scurried off to her brood.

Uyen picked it up and examined it front and back. “Oh, look” she lilted. “A message.” She shooed Ashlee. “Go! It's almost eleven. Tick tock!"

***

Felicity sat in a back booth of her restaurant half an hour after opening, idly thumbing her phone. They unlocked the doors at eleven, but she didn't expect to see anyone for another twenty minutes.

She stretched her legs across the booth, setting her feet up on the other seat, skirt drooping beneath the table. She was in her typical wrap with blue blouse. It flattered her frame, and her silky legs were freshly shaved that morning -- unable to sleep again -- so she had foregone the leggings.

Thirty minutes to go. Ashlee was good about setting timed goals for herself, at least. Something else she admired as the sand tricked out of her soul’s clock.

No messages, no calls, no nothing. Felicity sniffed a tear back at twenty till when she heard the bell on the front door. A customer. Felicity languidly weaved up to the hostess desk with an armload of menus.

Felicity droned, “Hello, welcome to … “ but she stopped, stiff as a board. There, in her charcoal suit, was Ashlee. The pale woman looked green, and was shaking so hard Felicity thought she was going to pass out. Ashlee beckoned anemically and Felicity followed her to the paradoxical privacy of the sidewalk.

Ashlee swallowed twice and quavered out the most shattering phrase Felicity had ever heard:

“I don't want to spend my life with a man."

***

Dammit, I practiced this the whole way here! Felicity was crumbling before her, and Ashlee was fluffing her lines again.

“Hold on, I'm not finished! I said, I don't want to spend my life with a man, and I don't want to spend my life with a woman. Felicity, none of it matters. I want to love YOU!”

Felicity screamed with elation. Before she knew what was happening, Ashlee was off her feet, shoes swinging as Felicity spun her around in an embrace. After two dizzying turns, Ashlee felt the ground beneath her, and would have plummeted to the pavement, had Felicity not still held her close.

They both sought words, but only one thing would do. To the hoots and cheers of onlookers, they locked in a long, passionate kiss.

They came up for air. Felicity smiled and sang: “I bet you want some lunch and coffee.”

***

Epilogue

Ashlee was pretty hungry. She clicked down the sidewalk in new dress shoes, rushing to keep her lunch date with Uyen and Sarah. As far as she knew it was the first time any of them had been out for pho together since starting at Stetson.

She entered the restaurant, but before her eyes adjusted, she heard a piercing wolf whistle. She blinked for focus, and was shocked to see Sarah with fingers in her mouth.

She hurried to the table, avoiding the eyes of the other customers. Sarah got up from a table to meet her.

“What is this? No suit?" Sarah took Ashlee's hand and unexpectedly pirouetted her around. Her forest green skirt fluttered above her bare knees, and the pink coral necklace rattled atop the mint blouse. Her hair stayed secure under her matching pink hairband.

Ashlee looked straight in her friend's eyes. “Knock it off, Sarah. Let me sit down.”

Sarah led Ashlee to their table near the kitchen, where Uyen tutted her tardiness. “We already ordered, but we’re all getting the same thing. Trust me on this.” Uyen called into the kitchen in her own language, and a greasy cook poked his head out, nodding back.

In English, Uyen said to Ashlee, “You do look cute. What’s the occasion?”

“Felicity dressed me today. It’s our four-week-iversary. Sorry I’m late; we were interviewing paralegals."

Sarah groaned. “You’re getting staff? Jesus, we’ve already had three hires this week. Me and Uyen are up to our tits in onboarding.”

Uyen joined in disgruntlement. “Mr. Hahn won’t hire another girl. Says we were overstrength to begin with. Mrs. Blake might be able to swing a temp or two.”

Ashlee thought this was unfair. “It’s Stetson’s ‘March on Washington’, remember? This is why we’ve been building the branch up for the past year. Mr. Hahn is under a lot of pressure to make this place work the way El Paso needs it to. We all have to pull …” Ashlee paused. The withering glares from Sarah and Uyen indicated that she was not carrying her audience.

Steaming bowls of pho were on the table a minute later. Uyen’s was accompanied by a bowl of crispy brown lumps.

"What the hell's that? Is that on the menu?" asked Sarah.

"They're đuông dừa. I had to ask for them," answered Uyen, popping one in her mouth. It crackled loudly in her teeth. After swallowing, she deftly chopsticked one on Sarah’s plate of bean sprouts. Sarah warily plucked it up in her fingers and examined it closely.

"Dwoong zoo-ah,” Uyen enunciated slowly. “Coconut worms; fried beetle larvae.”

Sarah yelped and dropped it in her lap. A squealing, indistinct blue streak accompanied her scrambling efforts to evict the creature. Ashlee just asked, "Gross. Why?"

"One, they're really good; two, because I can; three, I like it when I can freak Sarah out."

Sarah was fuming, but running out of steam. Still chomping on the little grubs, Uyen changed the subject. “How’s married life?”

“Don’t say that! She’s just moving in.”

“How is that going?”

Ashlee hesitated “We’ll see. I think that’s a story for another time.”

Uyen talked around a mouthful of pho. “Fair enough. How about in general?”

“Yeah, Ash,” an apparently recovered Sarah said. To Ashlee’s amazement, Sarah had somehow speared two meatballs on a fork and dangled a single noodle between them. Impressive, but tasteless. Sarah went on: “Kiss and tell?”

“Actually,” said Uyen dreamily, “I am morbidly curious. What’s it like?”

With Felicity’s help, Ashlee had gotten better at standing up to one or the other of them, but she withered under their combined grilling. “Just like any other woman, really, I guess. We kiss, we touch. She’s really sweet.”

“Give the people what they want,” muttered Sarah, looking down and twiddling her fork. Uyen nodded expectantly.

Ashlee looked straight at Uyen. “The, uh, downstairs …” Uyen giggled with her fingertips over her lips. “... it doesn’t work quite like you’d expect, because of the hormones. The shaft for instance …”

“Hey girls, what’s for lunch?” Ashlee leapt up at the voice. She nearly pulled Felicity down, hugging her shoulders for a big wet kiss on the mouth. Felicity, after returning the favor, squeezed Ashlee’s arm. “Down girl!” Ashlee resumed her seat, and Felicity joined them.

“What are you talking about?” wondered Felicity.

“Oh, nothing much,” answered Sarah in dejection.

Uyen scooped up the conversational football. “Ashlee looks amazing, Fifi” -- she and Sarah had decided that “Felicity” was a mouthful -- “and she gets happier every day.”

Sarah contributed, “Yeah, Feef,” -- Ashlee hated this more than Fifi, but Felicity was enamored of it -- “ you’re turning her into a real peach.”

Felicity laughed. “She’s always had it in her. Now I’m moving in, and Ashlee’s got me going to school this summer. God, I love our future!” She squeezed Ashlee and gave her cheek a sloppy peck. Looking at Uyen, she asked, “Is that đuông dừa? I love that! Can I have a couple?”

As they giggled and Sarah gagged, Ashlee had to agree. As Uyen had predicted, nothing was perfect, but their future looked very bright indeed.

END OF PART ONE