Shane and Carmen: The Novelization Ch. 18

Chapter 18 Paybacks Are Hell. Sometimes.

Aunt Begonia and Uncle Mike had rented a hall for Marciela's quinceañera, and Carmen had joined the Morales clan the night before to decorate the room and set up for her cousin's fifteenth birthday celebration. The theme colors were white with silver highlights.

"The quinceañera signifies a girl becoming a woman," Carmen told Shane one evening several weeks before the event. "But different Latin American countries have slightly different traditions regarding the quinceañera. In Argentina they have the fifteen candles. The quinceañera girl gives out a candle to each of the fifteen people she considers to have been the most influential ones in her life. But nobody else does that. No matter the country, the event is almost always very formal, and the girl always wears a very fancy formal dresses. In Venezuela it is multicolored and usually pastels. In Nicaragua it is always pink. It used to be pink, too, in Mexico, but has kind of changed over to white, sort of like a wedding dress or the Nortamericano idea of what a princess would wear."

"Since in Latin American countries most people are Catholic, the day usually starts with a mass of thanksgiving in church. Aunt Begonia and Marciela talked it over, and they decided not to have one."

"Why not?" Shane asked.

"That's a long story," Carmen said. "The short version is that six years ago there was a big scandal at our church. They came and removed our priest, Father Eduardo, because apparently he had been molesting choirboys. And they also sent away all the nuns who had been at the parish, nobody is quite sure why, except that they all were there when Father Eduardo was. Anyway, it was a clean sweep--"

"Was your nun one of them?" Shane asked.

Carmen flushed. "Who told you about that?"

Shane shrugged. "One of the group, it doesn't matter who. They told me you admitted you'd had an affair with a nun. Now I'm really sorry I slept late. I miss all the good stuff." She was laughing, and Carmen could tell she wasn't upset about it.

"Well, it's true. I did. I was eighteen, just starting college. She was like my mentor, and she's the one who got me started DJing. And then they sent her away, and it kind of broke my heart."

"Were you in love with her?"

Carmen shrugged. "I don't know. That's an awfully hard question, you know? And I've asked myself that, over the years. Yes, I had feelings for her. I certainly had a major crush on her, no doubt about that. I mean, it was like a teacher crush that just went totally over the top. I told her I loved her, so maybe I did, yes. I never really understood where the lines were between a crush, an infatuation and a love affair. "

"You never mentioned it before. Is that why you never go to church, and don't like the church?"

Carmen nodded. "Yes, that's why. And I never told you about it because, you know, we don't talk about our histories. Remember your mantra? 'Never tell them your story, and never let them tell you theirs'?"

Shane grinned ruefully. "Yeah, well, that was before I got involved with someone. I may have to revisit that mantra a little bit to find out about you and the nun. But anyway, tell me more about quinceañeras."

"Well, in addition to the girl's dress there are some other common elements. In most countries the girl is escorted into the party by her father, and then there are a series of dances, usually waltzes. In some countries she dances with family members and close friends. In others she dances with a select group of people, and very often these dances are choreographed and practiced in advance; it's not like the bride at a wedding just dancing or waltzing with her father or father-in-law or whoever. In the Domincan Republic the dances can be anything, not just waltzes. Merengues, salsa, modern, whatever. Whenever I get hired to do a quinceañera I have to ask which Latino culture the family comes from and which variation they want to use. It can get a little confusing, and I have to do my homework on each one."

"For instance, another common element is where the music comes from. The family hires at least one band, and sometimes two or three. The music almost never comes from records or CDs; it has to be a live performing band. Often there is a DJ, who is really more like a master of ceremonies, and in our family we've known for years that I was gonna be the DJ for Marciela, there's just no way in hell that wasn't gonna happen. So I'm the DJ for Marciela, of course, but I'm not gonna spin records and CDs, I'm just going to be the MC, introduce people and events, and so forth, and kinda run things. I've actually been paid to do some quinceañeras, but of course I'm doing this one for free because it's my cousin."

"So anyway, for Marciela we're having have three bands. One of them is just a local garage band, some of Marciela's friends and schoolmates, they're fourteen, fifteen years old, and they're probably not very good, but nobody cares. Those kids would be just brokenhearted and hurt if they couldn't play, so they're gonna do a couple songs. And then there's the band from Marciela's school, and they're probably not much better than the garage band kids. It'd be, like, a neighborhood feud if they didn't play. They do all the local quinceañeras for all the girls in their school, it's a local tradition, these guys have got to play no matter what. And then finally Uncle Mike hired a real band to do the serious playing after the kiddie bands have done their thing. They're like the bands that do weddings and funerals and bar mitzvahs and everything, you know, five or six pieces, and they can do everything in the songbook, from the Mexican Hat Dance to the Electric Slide to the Macarena to the Bunny Hop."

"According to Mexican tradition, the quinceañera is the first time the birthday girl wears make-up, but of course nowadays you can't find a nine-year-old who hasn't worn make-up, let alone a teenager, even a young one. But that's the theory. Another is the ritual of the shoes. The girl comes to the party wearing flattie shoes, and during the ceremony her father gives her a pair of high heels to put on, her first pair, to symbolize her turning into an adult. So we're gonna do that part of the ceremony, but of course Marciela has worn heels lots of times before. So that's a kind of pretend thing, like pretending the blushing bride wears white because she's a virgin. You know, nowadays go find me a virgin on her wedding day. But society pretends."

"The Mexican ceremony is different from some of the others, because in our tradition the quinceañera girl is escorted not by her father but by an honor guard of young men. They are called chamberlanes , it's the Spanish word for chamberlains. A chamberlain is a household official, but no one has them anymore, so it's really more like a band of groomsmen at a wedding. So these boys -- Marciela has six of them -- will escort her in. There is a formal toast, and then she dances a waltz with each of them in turn, very formal and stylized. They've been practicing for months. One is her boyfriend, one's her brother, one's a cousin, and three are family friends. One is Anna's husband Carlos, my brother-in-law, you met him."

"So after that introductory dancing is done, then she dances with family members and close friends, like at a wedding. After that it becomes a birthday party, with food and drinking for the adults, and birthday presents for the girl, and she opens them, and all that. It's usually pretty fun, and you'll have a good time. Oh, and there's one more thing. In the Mexican version we Maya descendents have inserted our own special part of the tradition. It's called La Ultima Muñeca, the Ritual of the Last Doll. It symbolizes the very last childhood toy she will ever receive, now that she's about to turn into an adult. A long time ago I told Aunt Begonia I wanted to be the one to give Marciela her Ultima Muñeca, and she agreed. So what we did, Aunt Begonia and me, is that Aunt Begonia has kept me informed about what kind of dress Marciela is going to wear. And I got her to give me a pattern of it, and I took it to this wardrobe shop at one of the studios, and I've had them dress up a doll in exactly the same pattern of dress as Marciela's going to wear. And I just know it will blow her mind when I give it to her."

"That's really cool," Shane said. "You really get into all that stuff, don't you? Fancy dresses and all that."

"Yeah, I do," Carmen said. "I have to confess it, as lesbians go I'm pretty girly. I'm an unabashed dolly dyke, a lipstick lesbian down to my roots. All my life I've wanted to get married wearing this gorgeous wedding dress. I think I wanted that wedding and that wedding dress long before I even knew I was a lesbian. And after I did discover it, it didn't matter -- I still had this fantasy of walking down the aisle in this gorgeous white wedding dress, with the lace mantilla, and the fact that I'd be marrying a woman instead of man was almost secondary. In my fantasy I never even thought about who my spouse would be, whether she'd be wearing a white dress, too, or a tuxedo, or hell, it could have been a leather dyke in a spiked collar." She laughed, and Shane laughed, too. "I mean, it's all about ME, you know? Just me in that gorgeous white dress. Every girl's entitled to her dream, even us pervo dyke- and boi-loving lipstick lesbians."

***

Despite her discomfort wearing Mercedes' dress, and her utterly non-Shane hairdo, Shane enjoyed herself at the quinceañera much more than she thought she would. Of course she loved watching her Carmen up there on the tiny stage being the mistress of ceremonies. She loved watching Carmen work. Carmen was bubbly and happy and charming, funny, relaxed, warm, and of course she was among family and friends she loved and who all loved her. Shane was moved to consider just how damned lucky she was to have such a person in her life, to have such a person in love with her.

Shane felt comfortable and at home right away among the Morales clan, some of whom she'd already met at Mercedes' house. Many knew who she was -- Carmen's best friend and roommate -- and were happy to meet her face-to-face. And not one of them knew or suspected that Shane was a lesbian, much less that Carmen was, too, or that they were lovers. It wasn't so much that this community was homophobic as it was that they were all simply in a kind of denial. They lived in a hetero world where everyone was straight, even when there might have been a little bit of evidence here and there to the contrary.

Mercedes led Shane around, introducing her to relatives and neighbors as if Shane were her own long-lost daughter. This was what it felt like to have family, to be part of a family, to be surrounded by affection and acceptance and unconditional love (unconditional, at least, as long as no one knew the truth). A few of the people Shane met spoke no English whatsoever, yet even they accepted this gringa not as an outsider but more or less as one of their own. Shane ate it up, every spoonful.

Shane, who admittedly wasn't political in these matters, felt at ease in a world where no one cared about her orientation and sexuality. It meant that she didn't have to think about it, either; she could just relax and be herself, and these people accepted her as they thought she was. Sure, Shane was a little on the tomboy side, but maybe some earrings, a little girly hairdo, some girlier clothes, and she'd be sure to find herself a nice boy to marry pretty soon. Anyway, tomboys weren't especially rare in Americanized Latino culture, and there were plenty of "tough" girls in the barrio, enough to dilute the stereotypes of Hispanic femininity.

This was certainly Mercedes' view. She had personally told half the room that Shane was wearing Mercedes' own quinceañera dress from way back when, and didn't she look gorgeous? And every time Mercedes said it, Shane blushed and did an "aw, shucks" kick, but deep in her women's heart she was no less immune than any other. To be called "gorgeous" and "beautiful" and "muy bonita" turned her head as much as it would the straightest woman ever born.

***

"Chane! Chane! There's somebody I want you to meet," Mercedes said, coming across the crowded dance floor at full speed. Shane saw she was dragging some poor young man behind her like a captured purse-snatcher. "This is Luis." She presented the young man to Shane proudly.

"Hello," Luis said quietly and politely. He knew, just as Shane knew, that they were both prisoners of Mercedes' iron will, and both would do whatever it was Mercedes had in mind for them.

"Hello," Shane said, putting out her hand and shaking hands with Luis.

"Go on, dance! Dance!" Mercedes exhorted, pushing them together and out into the middle of the dance floor. Reluctantly they danced slowly, Luis keeping a formal distance of several inches away from Shane's chest. Shane thought at first that matchmaker Mercedes was trying to fix her up with Luis, but he so obviously had something on his mind that Shane picked up the vibe.

"What's up, Luis?" she asked him kindly.

Poor Luis's face crumbled and he looked so sad. "I love her," he confessed.

"Who's that?"

"I love Carmen," Luis said, the poor lovesick puppy. "I love her since I was a little boy. She only see me as a friend. Maybe you can talk to her for me. Mercedes says you're her best friend. You could tell her I love her, and I'll be good to her."

Now Shane understood what Mercedes had been up to. Get Shane to broker the match between her friend Carmen and poor Luis, whom Mercedes knew loved her and would make a good husband for her. Well, given certain pre-conditions.

"Uh, Luis, maybe these feelings you have for Carmen ... maybe they're not the same for her," Shane said, trying to frame a coherent answer that would spare Luis' feelings yet get Carmen off the hook. And Shane might have pulled it off given six or eight hours to process and think, but no way she was going to come up with anything on the spur of the moment. But just then she was saved by Carmen's sudden appearance at their side.

"Hi, hi," Carmen said to each of them. "Mind if I cut in?" Shane looked mildly shocked, but Luis almost fainted dead away, believing for a moment that the girl of his dreams was about to dance with him. But his face fell and his world collapsed as Carmen turned to Shane and began to waltz away with her.

"Isn't this a little risky?" Shane asked after a moment.

"Ah, I didn't tell you that in the Latina culture, it's okay if two girls dance with each other," Carmen said. "It's not exactly queer."

"You left that part out, huh?"

Carmen grinned wickedly and laughed. "Yes, I did. I love your hair!" That made Shane both blush and laugh, because they both knew it simply wasn't Shane, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

"You owe me," Shane said.

"I know! Thank you." Carmen grinned, knowing there was going to be serious payback, but she was more than willing to suffer those consequences.

"You're welcome," Shane said, already thinking about that payback.

***

The quinceañera began to wind down about nine o'clock, and was over by nine thirty. Shane and Carmen got home just before ten, tired but happy. Shane went to her room and couldn't wait to take off that damned dress, which she carefully hung up on its hanger and placed back inside its special plastic zipper bag. Three seconds later she had run her hands through her hair and in mere moments had restored a good bit of the Shane Shag. She reached into a drawer and removed a clear plastic baggie and a rolling paper, and dressed only in a lightweight wife-beater undershirt and her boy-cut Hugo Boss tighty blackies she went into the kitchen in search of Carmen and a beer. Carmen was in the bathroom, so Shane pulled two Dos Equis from the refrigerator and began rolling the joint. Carmen came into the kitchen still dressed in her beautiful mauve outfit. She was still wired from her MC work, and it often took her a while to come down after a performance. She gladly took a drag from the joint Shane offered her, gratefully took a swallow from the beer bottle, and went to the counter to begin putting away all the containers of leftover food her mother had made her take home.

As she loaded containers into the refrigerator, she began to talk. "Okay, every single person in my family adores you. My mother? She absolutely loves you." She finished and came to Shane, taking another drag from the joint.

Shane exhaled the smoke she'd been holding inside. "I love them, too."

"You do?" Carmen put her hands on Shane's hips, moving close in.

"Um-hmm," Shane said, nuzzling into Carmen's neck. "But I wonder how much they'd love me if they knew I was fucking their daughter." She kissed Carmen's cheek and neck, feeling herself getting moist and hot in key places.

"Oooo!" Carmen whispered, loving the kissing she was getting. "Well I wonder who's going to be doing the fucking tonight, because you looked pretty girly in that dress you had on."

Shane groaned and made a face. Then her hands began lifting Carmen's skirt up to her waist, revealing Carmen's sexy black stockings held up by a lacy black garter belt. Underneath there was a brief hint of a scanty burgundy-colored thong. "Well," Shane said, "you look a little girly yourself."

Carmen giggled, set down her beer bottle and backed away from Shane for a second, picking up a remote from the kitchen table behind Shane. She turned and aimed the remote at the boombox on the sideboard, and a second later D'Angelo's cover of Feel Like Makin' Love began to play. With her back still to Shane, Carmen began to sway to the music, swinging her hips slowly and running her hands through her own hair. Shane watched the hips sway as Carmen slowly and sexily backed her way into Shane's lap. She gently thrust her bottom into Shane's groin but bent over forward, wordlessly asking Shane to unzip the back of her dress. When Shane did, Carmen straightened up, still swaying and pushing back into Shane, giving her a striptease lap dance. She shucked off the dress, which puddled to the floor, and Carmen toed it out of the way. She wore a lacy black brassiere that matched the garter belt, and continued swaying and teasing. Shane's clit was at full attention and the sight of Carmen's luscious bottom, the garter belt, the warm caramel color of the skin of her back, the faint aroma of vanilla from somewhere were as arousing as anything Shane had ever experienced. She turned slightly and extinguished the joint in an ash tray because she knew that in a moment she was going to be much too engaged to finish it as she otherwise might. She put her hands on Carmen's hips, loving the feel of those delicious ass cheeks pushing against her own thighs. It was payback time, and Shane was gonna get her --

The phone rang.

"No, no, no, no, don't answer it!" Shane pleaded as she felt Carmen respond to the ring.

"What if it's an emergency?" Carmen asked.

"No, no, no, no," Shane pleaded, but it was too late. The wonderful bottom cheeks: gone. The hips: gone. The smells: gone. The back, gone, the breasts, the face, the mouth ...

Carmen walked to the wall phone and picked it up. "Hello? ... Hi, Jenny! ... Uh, yeah, are you okay?"

In the bed of a pickup truck parked in a field just outside of God-Knows-Where, Colorado, Jenny lay looking up at the stars and talking on her new cell phone, something she'd gone without during her six months in the mental hospital in Skokie. Beside her lay a stone butch with a sharp-featured face and high cheekbones named Moira, whose truck it was.

"No, no, I'm fine, don't worry," Jenny said into the phone. "Yeah, we're just taking our time. We're gonna be there in a couple days ... uh huh ... oh, my friend Moira decided to take her pickup truck, and we're driving cross-country now."