(Editor’s Note: Over the course of three issues, we will be presenting excerpts from Jewelle Gomez’s novel, The Gilda Stories. This is the first. Please be sure not to miss our second issue for April, as well as our first issue of May, to read the second and final entries in the series.)
From Chapter 3 Yerba Buena 1890
Wherein Gilda travels to the ‘big city’ and meets new members of her family, Anthony and his lover, Sorel who will continue her training; and the dangerous Eleanor who has lessons of her own.
Gilda hurriedly locked the door to her room with the key Sorel had given her so ceremoniously then slowed her steps as she descended the stairs to the public rooms of the establishment. She took the seemingly endless time of the descent to listen to the sounds coming from the rooms to the right and left of the stairway and wide foyer. And to watch the workers who only glanced at her casually as they moved briskly past the stairs to their destinations: one room with a grand piano and singer of some note who held a small audience enthralled; two other rooms with gaming tables and people, mostly men, bent over them furiously winning nor losing. And the main salon, its perimeter outfitted with plush settees and small tables so that anyone, even women alone, would feel comfortable.
The long shining wood bar with its equally polished brass foot rail was lined with men talking in low tones. The electric lights blazing from the wall sconces made everyone’s face seem unnaturally pale. She was certain that few, if any, of those gathered here were as she was, but they looked unlike people she’d ever seen before. She hesitated inside the door to the salon deciding whether to sit on one of the settees as all of women seemed to have done, or to follow her impulse and stand at the bar with the men. She stiffened as she heard: Perhaps you’ll allow me to show you to Monsieur Sorel’s table.
Anthony had spoken without speaking, which unnerved Gilda when done among others. Yet she followed him as he directed her to a slightly larger table.
“May I bring you something?” Anthony said in his soft, low-pitched voice. He felt her hesitation and gave her time to orient her thoughts in this new environ.
Gilda sensed several people in the salon turning to stare at her, some discreetly, some not. She was abruptly aware of the darkness of her skin; Anthony seemed to take note of nothing except her.
“I would be impolite to boast but Monsieur Sorel has his own vineyards in Europe, vinted by monks with impeccable taste. We have the most excellent red known to the palate. Of course if you’re fond of this champagne that seems to have taken everyone’s fancy, we have that as well.” His disapproval was barely concealed.
Anthony’s soothing tone made Gilda forget the people gawking at her. She gazed into his immense deep blue eyes and was taken by the very slight smile that lurked behind them. He himself was slight although his hands were quite large, imposing and solid with stout veins running their length. She wondered at all the things those eyes had seen, those hands had done.
Before she could speak, Sorel’s voice boomed out from halfway across the room: “The champagne, of course, Anthony. What else do we serve when family returns home?”
“Of course,” Anthony said, the hinted smile still curving his lips, as if a full smile would be too ostentatious. As Anthony receded from the room the space was filled to overflowing with Sorel. He wore a finely tailed waist coat and blue suit with brightly embroidered shoes made from some soft material and at his neck was a flurry of silk. There was a slight scent of Arabian musk about him that was mesmerizing.
People shifted in their seats, most simply curious, others plotting their exit carefully not wanting Sorel to interpret their departure as an insult to the women he’d named as his family.
But we shall know, will we not? Gilda heard Sorel speak in her mind. She smiled and Sorel laughed so loudly the drapes at the large window beside his table rippled. He reached across the table and took her hand in his and they both continued to laugh until Anthony appeared with the bottle of champagne.
“As usual, Anthony, you have quite a sobering effect on me. He serves each meal as if it were the last supper,” Sorel said of his partner of more than 100 years, barely retraining another outburst of laughter.
Anthony opened the bottle with an appropriate pop of the cork. As he was about to pour he stopped and said to Gilda, “I believe that in the homeland of your mother’s people the first libation is poured into the ground in honor of the ancestors.”
Anthony held the bottle away from the table above the shining wood floor. “I honor all our ancestors.” He said as he poured sparkling wine onto the floor.
“You welcome me with great humanity,” Gilda said.
“Let us hope that it is great wine!”
“You continue to be gracious to me, Sorel, even though I arrive unannounced, muddy and…”
Sorel cut her off. “Please, as I’ve said we’re family here. Your arrival could never be unannounced. Wherever we are we must expect each other. This is a family lesson we’ve learned well. You too have learned it or you would not have come to us.”
“I came to…” Gilda stopped uncertain of the result of her coming to Sorel and Anthony as she’d been instructed. Left alone with eternal life she’d travelled north then west to find those who would continue her instruction in the way of eternal life; their ways, which did not include killing and brutality. What did she need to know from this man who’d been like a myth as she was coming of age?
“I need to know much. Where the questions begin though is a question itself. I would ask where I go now. Or I could ask what I need to ask.”
“And I would answer: there is nothing to ask. You’ll stay here with us to continue your lessons as it was meant to be.”
Anthony returned, filled their glasses silently then leaned down to whisper in Sorel’s ear, so softly that even Gilda could not hear what was said.
“I’m afraid we shall be joined shortly by another. We’ll continue our talk later, Sorel said, then asked: “If you were to succinctly sum up what you’ve learned, what few words would you employ?”
“Betraying our shared life, our shared humanity makes one unworthy of sharing, unworthy of life.” Gilda spoke easily, but the depth of her feeling surprised her.
“You are a most accomplished student!” Sorel sat back on the settee with a look of satisfaction on his round face. Soon, however, a shadow settled on his forehead. His gaze slowly scanned the room. When it stopped at the door the shadow descended over the rest of his face and his brow tightened as the woman who stood poised in the doorway made her way toward their table.
The red of her hair was a beacon superior to the electric candles lining the walls. Gilda felt Sorel’s reaction—he was both annoyed and pleased to see this striking figure. Gilda turned to the woman, whose russet curls cascaded onto her shoulders which were draped in deep blue satin. Although covered from neck to toe she managed to be more provocative than anyone Gilda had ever seen even at Woodard’s Bordello where she’d been raised.
Beneath her unfashionably full brows were deep-green eyes sparkling in unnatural competition with the champagne on their table. Her full, wide mouth was painted a shade of red that perfectly matched her hair.
Sorel rose nimbly and took the woman’s hand pressing it gently to his lips. Anthony appeared behind them, his mouth set grimly and the knuckles of his large hands almost white as they gripped the new champagne glass.
“Gilda, may I present Eleanor.”
Eleanor slipped in beside Gilda and seemed to consume her in one glance.
“Eleanor has the distinction of being homegrown royalty; her family has lived here by the Bay longer than perhaps any other. Alas they have all died out except Eleanor and her uncle Alfred.”
“And he is probably seeing his last years, even as we speak,” Eleanor said with no trace of sorrow. “But let’s not talk of the old and dying, rather the fresh and vital. You my dear…” And she turned the fire of her gaze toward Gilda.
For the first time in many years Gilda felt deep desire and profound fear.
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