Frieda

On my computer, I’ve got a folder containing 173 stories that I saved from Bea’s former websites, as well as several that I bought or that Bea generously gifted to me.  You’d think then that it would be simple to select stuff to post to the blog, but it can be something of a process.  I’m trying to avoid stories that have been posted here before or that are being sold through Mags Inc, since I don’t want to step on their toes, even though most of the shorter stories by Bea that they’ve got for sale can be read for free on the Internet Archive… if you happen to remember the addresses for Bea’s old sites.  Personally, I can only remember one, but if anybody recalls the others – I think there were three over the years – I’d kind of like to revisit the site that Bea added some of my drawings to.  

 

At least a couple times, I’ve landed on a story that seems to fit my criteria, but then I’ll realize that it was actually written by Rosie, who I assume is capable of posting their own work without my assistance. 

 

Last week, I was considering posting Bea’s story “A Position in the Family,” but I checked Mags Inc and found it being sold there in a book that also contains the story “Paradise Island,” which I’d never read before, though I discovered I had a copy of it.  The premise for “Paradise Island,” about a guy who is recruited to work on a resort catering exclusively to lesbian clientele, was intriguing enough for me to skim it.  After having done so, I feel that it’s possibly one of the more preposterous things Bea’s written.  Moreover, I wasn’t really into it. 

 

The reason I bring that story up, however, is that it led me to realize that I may owe Bea an apology for implying a few weeks ago that a paragraph in “The Seed Doesn’t Fall Far…” might reflect a tinge of homophobia.  In “Paradise Island,” the main character is brazenly homophobic, which I’m pretty sure is intended as a deliberately negative trait and one of the key indicators that we’re not supposed to sympathize with him.  Also, Carrie pointed out to me that Bea had a gay son, which I was previously unaware of, so I clearly don’t know what I’m talking about. 

 

That said, it’s not like I’m an expert, but I get the impression that Bea’s lesbian characters sometimes conform to some crude stereotypes, which feels particularly evident in “Paradise Island,” so I don’t know whether or not I should give Bea too much credit for being ultra enlightened or whatever.  Not to mention the fact that, in said story, a rather non-PC term for lesbians gets casually bandied about an awful lot.  I know it’s a word that’s been reclaimed, not unlike “queer” has, and lesbians can use it to describe themselves, but some might find the frequent use of it off-putting.  I’m not saying that I’m personally offended; I’m just making an observation about how it seems to date that particular story.  At any rate, it’s probably silly to attach modern expectations to the writing of someone who is from a different generation.  Maybe it wasn’t that long ago, relatively speaking, that people felt more at ease using that term.  I can recall an instance when my little sister, back in school, used it as an insult aimed at a friend of hers.  Anyway, I’ll get off my high horse. 

 

Incidentally, this story, “Frieda,” also contains a couple uses of that word, but the character who utters it is obviously a jerk.  I haven’t taken the time to read all the way through, so I don't have an opinion about its overall quality, but at least I couldn’t find this story anywhere else.   

*********************************************************************************

FRIEDA

By Bea

 

One should stay within ones mold.  I've been a scaredy-cat, a mommy's boy, and a little sissy all of my life. I was well into adulthood before I tried to break out of that mold – just once, and it got me into nothing but trouble.  Okay – maybe some sissies like me wouldn’t want to call it trouble – well not  . . maybe not exactly?

 

I'm fairly well off.  Left a good chunk of my money by my mom when she passed away in a train wreck.  That, plus the trust that Amtrak was forced to arrange to set me up financially for life.  Thank God that it's an ironclad trust that pays my rent and gives me a decent amount of money every month.  Otherwise there would be no doubt about me being in trouble.  Nobody can break into it. I'm pretty sure that Frieda has tried – but that's another story.

 

I first saw her - Frieda - in a pizza joint that I frequented. Frankly, I ate so much on my own that I enjoyed the fun and noise of the fast food places, and Vito's was no exception. She was a waitress there, quite thin and petite – probably about sizes with me.  But she had this way with the customers – so free and easy, especially around the men – who she flirted with unashamedly.  Me – huh.  When she served me she didn't pay much attention at all.  Maybe it was her lack of interest?  (I could say that – but 'lack of interest' defined every woman who had ever crossed my path in real life – so it probably wasn't that).

 

But I wanted to ask her out SO bad, but just didn't have the courage.  Then one night it was very quiet and the manager really got on her case.  I don't think he'd have said what he did if it had been anybody else sitting there – but I'm so pale and insipid, I'll swear that people often don't see me.  It's like I'm invisible.