MEADOW OF IMAGINATION ’TIL AN END DEFINED BY TIME KATIE BYRON MEADOW OF IMAGINATION Step into a meadow of imagination, If ye dare, Gracefully guided by a Maiden fair. Winds whisk the woven silk grass, Revealing an impression of beauty Within beauty, a flawless lass. ​Blink not, for although this majestic Footprint’s surely to last, The initial moment is now but a memory Of the past. Careful. However, this being is for but one. A lingering glance, And ye shall risk the chance Of an enduring endeavor; An unrequited circumstance. Innocent, yet un-tame, An essence free from guilt and shame. Enter my soul and reside within, A tenure with eternity may now begin. 1 CHAPTER 1 Kat Eddie “Bye, Harrison, see you later.” Kat settles into the corner table, a window on each side. “Have fun at the bookstore, babe.” Debra gives her husband a quick peck on the cheek, then he heads for the door, leaving the two high school friends alone. “So, what’s going on in your world? It’s been way too long since I last saw you.” Kat leans forward, ready to dig into the past and hear about her friend’s life. “Before we get down to the dirt, Kat, the sky’s the limit, order whatever you want. Lunch is on me.” Debra waves both arms wide. “That’s generous of you, thanks, Deb.” “My pleasure. You made the trip from Massachusetts back home to New York, so it’s the least I can do, and as they say, what comes around, goes around.” She pauses, and her eyes brighten. “What, with all the times you took me to the Manhasset Bay Yacht Club with your grandparents, I owe you.” 2 “And we wanted proper drinks but settled for Shirley Temples?” Laughs Kat, tossing her head back. “Speaking of yachts, I’m getting the lobster, it’s delicious. Order anything you want, my friend.” “I’ve never been a lobster lover, but the salmon sounds yummy.” “Ladies. Do you need a few more minutes?” The tall, handsome, dark-haired waiter with fresh-pressed khaki shorts, a red polo—no more than twenty-five years old and the picture of refined fashion—stands at the ready, pen in hand. “I’ll have the lobster, and my friend here will take the salmon.” “Excellent choices. Appetizers?” “Tuna tartar, please, and an iced tea.” Kat closes the menu, noting no prices grace the long list of delicious entrees. The waiter turns his attention to Debra. “And for you, Ma’am?” “The pea soup, thank you.” “The place looks so different from the last time I was here.” Kat glances around The Inn at Pound Ridge. “This whole floor was the restaurant, right? It wasn’t divided between a bar area and dining room in the past. It had a stuffier feeling way back when. I like this so much more. The setup offers a more rustic feel, but with elegance.” “We only came here once or twice when I was a kid, so I don’t really remember what it looked like.” Debra glances around the room with curiosity dancing in her eyes. “The ambiance matches wealthy ease, no pretense, you know, like money is meant to be spent and enjoyed, not flaunted, and tabulated.” “I agree, this is one of my favorite places because it has such a lovely feeling.” Debra looks back at Kat. “When was the last time you were here?” 3 “I don’t remember what year it was. But the last time was a Thanksgiving with my Mom and my Aunt, if not mistaken.” “Now before we get to your Mom, Joanie that is, and your Dad, spill wants going on with you, sounded like you needed to talk when we made this date.” Debra leans in. “And just to clear the air, you know you could’ve told me about your life‐ style, Kat. Why didn’t you?” “I guess it embarrassed me,” confesses Kat. “Didn’t know how you would react, and looking back, I now realize I had such a hard time with my sexuality, especially in college, it was hard for me to talk about it with anyone.” The waiter arrives with a tray of drinks and bread. He swiftly places tall glasses dripping with iced perspiration. “Your appetizers should be out shortly.” Taking a bite of bread and a sip of iced tea, Debra glances at Kat. “Well, Westchester wasn’t a liberal atmosphere back in the day. In our tony town, whenever gays or lesbians were mentioned, it was with intense discrimination,” sighs Debra. “I guess I understand why you said nothing.” “Oh, my gosh, do you remember in high school, the two women people teased, calling them grease monkeys just because they fixed cars?” “Yeah, and the way people treated Nate just because he was feminine. Even though we had a blast in high school, it was cruel for anyone different.” “You can say that again. I tried to fly under the radar. And I wasn’t even sure what I thought when I heard those cruel words about those kids. But I do recall feeling uncomfortable with the language, but not disgusted by the victims, the way everyone else seemed to be.” Laments Kat. “Do you think you knew about yourself in high school?” Debra’s eyebrow arches. “No, I felt remarkably awkward, like I didn’t quite fit in, not knowing how to flirt with the boys in school or the 4 neighborhood. But it wasn’t until freshman year in college, I thought I might be one of those people.” “Oh, Kat, that’s so sad.” Debra’s eyes scream of sorrow. “It’s true, the thought horrified me. I stuffed it away for years until one of my friends and I became closer and closer. Our friendship was so utterly based on incredible like, not love, at first, anyway, and . .” Debra glances at the waiter on his way over, water pitcher in hand, and she shakes her head from side to side. “We can’t have interruptions now, can we”—she flashed a warm smile, reminiscent of her teen years—“not just when we’re getting to the juicy part.” “Not sure about the parts being juicy, but they have substance.” Laughter slips out between her lips. Kat leans back in her chair, thinking about the long-ago love story for the first time in years. “We had a friendship based on a deep liking, till one night, we just started fumbling and kissing and made love. It was unclear what we were physically doing, except—” “Was it scary?” Kat giggles fondly, a nervous energy makes her body buzz. “My gosh, no. It felt good and right, but wrong to talk about, to tell anyone at all.” “That must’ve been wonderful and terrible at the same time. I told you everything about me back then. How did you keep it all to yourself?” “It was terrible in that sense. But the experience opened the door to loving a woman—a newfound emotional inti‐ macy that lead to a physical arousal, creating the ultimate connection.” “So, what happened? Where is she?” Debra reaches for the empty breadbasket. “No idea.” Kat’s shoulders shrug upward. “What, why? It sounded so nice.” “I think we were too young to have the courage to 5 succeed in a straight, still very homophobic world, or to even think that was an option. But Pandora’s Box had been open for me. Even though my heart had shattered into a million pieces when the relationship ended—in what seemed like a second after it had begun—I’m glad it happened.” With a deep breath, Kat exhales with fond memories of first love. “I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything.” “Wow, my friend, just wow. I had no idea all this happened. No idea at all. Even when I saw you in New York, you said nothing. Do you think that’s why we lost touch?” “Oh, for sure, yes. I couldn’t imagine telling you and was afraid of what you’d think. But in college, I found such a great group of friends. They too were with women or were very liberal. Being Gay was just not something that was an ‘okay topic’ of conversation in the late 70s or even the 80s.” “You know what Kat, shame on me for not reaching out to you. Harrison and I have plenty of gay friends in San Fran, so I have no judgment. We’re all people, so love who you love. But what’s happening now, tell me, are you happy?” Watching the waiter arrive with the appetizers, Kat eyes the tuna with delight. But Debra studies the orange-colored soup placed in front of her with a blink of surprise. “This isn’t pea soup.” “The kitchen couldn’t make the pea soup today, Ma’am; however, this is a curried coconut soup, the chef’s specialty. He thought you’d prefer this over something else.” “Why would I prefer this?” “My apologies. Would you like me to bring you some‐ thing else?” “No, I’ll try it. But I’m not happy you didn’t tell me when I ordered.” “Again, my deepest apologizes.” The waiter backs away, non-pulsed. Kat takes a bite of her tuna, rests the fork on the plate’s 6 side, savoring the delectable morsel. “That’s more than enough about me, tell me all about you, Deb.” “Nothing to tell. Same old, same old.