Rosemarie's Revenge

Phoenix, Arizona July 1990 McKenna Branson was excited. She had not only made a new friend in Rosemarie—someone to look forward to seeing around the apartment complex she’d just moved into, but her new friend was gorgeous as well. McKenna knew she shouldn’t care so much about someone’s appearance—and she didn’t—but a little eye candy really was the icing on the cake, wasn’t it? She knew her crush on Rosemarie would never go anywhere. Rosemarie was straight and taken. She got that. She really did. But it frustrated her, even though she would totally respect Rosemarie’s preference, just as she wanted to be respected for hers. It was all she could really do anyway. Twenty-six years old and horny, she hoped to meet someone just as kind and attractive as Rosemarie real soon, though she had her doubts. She seemed to be the only feminine lesbian in the world, or at least that’s how she felt at times. And that wasn’t a plus in the world of lesbians. Yes, she was sometimes attracted to men, so she figured that made her bisexual, but it didn’t happen very often. McKenna grinned to herself when she thought of her second visit to Rosemarie and her boyfriend Rick’s one-bedroom apartment by the pool. She didn’t care for Rick very much, but they had all laughed, joked, and talked about this and that. Rosemarie seemed eager to hear her sing—something she’d always enjoyed and wasn’t half bad at. When it came out that she was a lesbian, they seemed to have no problem with it, assuring her that they were fascinated by all kinds of people. McKenna felt accepted, wanted, and liked. She didn’t know much about Rosemarie other than that she was a year older than she was, her birthday was August sixth, she was from Texas, and she worked for some kind of law firm. Not wanting to wear out her welcome, McKenna held off visiting the beautiful, petite Rosemarie, who weighed a little over a hundred pounds—the same as she did. She was hoping they would come to her for a change, to be honest, but the days passed, and she began to feel as if they were actually avoiding her. “Ok, what did I do?” McKenna finally asked Rosemarie one day at the pool. “You didn’t do anything,” the dark-haired, well-tanned Italian girl said from her lounge chair, “but I’m not going to lie to you.” “About what?” McKenna asked quizzically. “Well, we’re kind of religious, and after I thought about it, I decided I didn’t want your type around.” McKenna was stunned. Those very honest and blunt yet hurtful and cruel words rendered her utterly speechless at first. She was vaguely aware of her friend Fay entering the pool area out of her peripheral vision as she began to hit back with something about how people always preached that God supposedly wanted everyone to love and accept others as they were. If you could believe one even existed in the first place, of course. Then she blinked back the tears that stung her eyes and entered the pool to face a concerned and curious-looking Fay. McKenna filled her in, and together they discussed their thoughts on the matter, not at all bothering to keep their voices down. At that point, McKenna didn’t give a damn whether Rosemarie overheard what she had to say or not. After a few minutes, Rosemarie had had enough of their loudly vocalized opinions and got up to leave. McKenna remembered Rosemarie once telling her that a lesbian couple used to live next to them—one feminine and nice, the other ugly and jealous to the point of terrifying her. She wondered if that was part of why she was prejudiced. When she received a letter from a friend in her home state of Massachusetts—her friend Andrew, who also lived in the complex and whom Rosemarie and Rick had never met—she taped it to their door as a prank. She told Fay about the prank, and the obese, intellectually disabled welfare mom had gotten quite a kick out of it. Fay later told McKenna that she’d run into Rosemarie in the laundry room one night and that Rosemarie said she hadn’t wanted to hurt her, but that Rick had beaten up some other girl and was watching her like a hawk. Fear of AIDS also came up, and Fay said she reminded her that straights could get the disease as well. A few days later, she spotted Rick gazing down from their balcony at the pool she swam in. She looked upward and dared a quick hello. He surprised her by returning the greeting. Later on, Rosemarie surprised her even more by complimenting her on her black-and-gold swimsuit. Ok, so what was up? Were they still cool or not? And then they decided to pay her a little visit—a very nasty visit that left her both confused and angry. She didn’t see Rick at first when she opened her door; he had been hiding around the corner of the building. She should’ve figured Rosemarie wouldn’t have had the guts to face her alone or that she’d come for a friendly visit. “Oh, hi there,” McKenna had said with naïve delight. “Come on in.” The dark-haired, dark-eyed girl stepped into her tiny ground-floor studio apartment. “Sorry for the mess and the lack of furniture, but when you move cross-country with virtually nothing, it takes time to get established. Can I get you something to drink? I at least have some drinking glasses.” Rosemarie remained silent. McKenna, who had started for the little kitchenette, realized something was wrong and turned to face her dark and lovely neighbor. “Hey, what’s up?” “I’m just here to set you straight as opposed to beating the shit out of you, and I don’t want to. It’s just that I’ve been told you’re going around telling people you want my body.” McKenna blinked in shock. Damn. This girl really was full of mean surprises, wasn’t she? “What?” was all she could sputter at first. “I haven’t said any such thing to anyone.” “Are you saying she’s lying?” “If that’s what you’ve been told, yes. But who is she?” Rosemarie told her she promised not to give her name, but McKenna wasn’t stupid—too trusting maybe, but not stupid. It had to have been Fay who opened her big mouth. Fay, the not-so-well-balanced bitch she was sorry she ever trusted in the first place, and who loved to twist people’s words around. “Look,” Rosemarie continued, dark eyes glaring hatefully, “I don’t do women, and that’s that.” McKenna turned to follow the misinformed hater out of her place, and that was when she saw Rick. He started toward her in a menacing manner and quickly claimed that he “understood” her fantasy, but to leave them alone and not “lurk.” The two turned and headed to their building, and McKenna shut her apartment door, stunned. But a moment later, her shock turned to rage, and she flew out the door, ran across the parking lot, and over to the bigoted couple’s building. How fucking dare they! She didn’t need this shit in her life. Trying to find a way to pay for the next meal was enough to deal with. Their apartment was on the third floor, and when she reached it, she screamed outside their door so loud that the security guard called the cops. No one ever came to the door, though. As loud as she yelled, they were either too terrified to open up or too busy laughing their mean little asses off. Wanting to return home before the cops arrived, she gave the door a hard kick for good measure and then raced back down the stairs. She re-entered her place and slammed the door behind her. Then she flopped onto her twin mattress, devoid of box spring and stand, and sobbed miserably. Why were people so fucking hateful? She slowly rose from the mattress a moment later and entered her bathroom, where she inspected herself in the mirror to see if she looked as horrible as people sometimes acted as if she did. She leaned in close to her reflection. Okay, so she wasn’t pretty enough to be a model. But she was also far from Miss Ugly Duckling of the Century. So then why would anyone, homo or hetero, respond to her fondness as if she were this pathetic, zit-plastered, 300-pound deformed monster from hell slobbering diseased drool all over them? As hurt as she was, she slowly and hesitantly made a new friend at the complex named Kara a few weeks later. There was no attraction between them, just a mutual friendship of sorts. Kara had a baby girl that she sometimes watched, and little by little, she was able to confide in her. It wasn’t always easy, but she told herself that she didn’t need people in her life like Rosemarie, and that while there would always be bigots like her, someday she would meet someone who would appreciate and accept her as she was, and that she also found attractive. McKenna did Kara the favor of writing a wacky letter to Kara’s ex, who had been less than kind to her, and Kara dropped an egg on Rosemarie’s hot little red sports car, much to her wicked delight. Just not until after she moved, of course.