The Kind of Women People Are Afraid Of

(continued)

By Janet Amalia Weinberg

After about half an hour, Lorna asked Joey how her knee felt. Cautiously, she stood… flexed her leg... did a few bouncy bends.... "I think it's better," she said. "Let's dance."

Dancing is one of the things we like to do together. Lorna put on "Initiation," by Gabriella Roth, and each of us did our own slow, wavy moves. It was a prophetic choice; we were, in fact, about to face a kind of initiation.

When the music ended, I stared at the black square of night, framed by the
un-curtained window. There were no lights out there, no houses or neighbors, just miles of woods and whatever might be lurking in them. It got me nervous. "If anyone's out there watching," I said, "they'd think we really are witches. And who knows what they'd do then."

Joey hit me with disapproval. "There you go again. You better watch what you think."

Lorna took the opportunity to remind me that we create our own reality with our thoughts. "If you keep imagining people are out to get us," she said, "you make it more likely to happen."

"But what if someone did come after us?" I said. "What could we do?"

"I'd let 'em have it," said Lorna, striking a pistol-toting-cowboy pose.

She really did have a gun. Almost everyone in town did. Rifles and shotguns, too. It was that kind of place. She worried that keeping a weapon in the house could attract violence but kept one anyway. "Just in case." There were rattlers and rabid animals in the woods, maybe rabid men, too. And she lived alone. "On the other hand," Lorna smiled seductively, "if I liked him, I might let him in."

"Come on," I pleaded. "I'm serious."

Lorna reached out to touch my hand. "Seriously, if someone did want to hurt me, my hope is that I'd be compassionate and not tighten up with fear. Ideally, instead of doing this." She made two fists and locked them in a head-on clash. "I'd do this." She unclenched one hand and relaxed it so the fisted hand brushed past with nothing to stop it.

"So why keep a gun?" I asked.

"Because I'm afraid I'm not strong enough to be that soft."

"Bullshit!" said Joey. "It's fight or flight. That's what we're programmed for.
If —"

The phone rang and Lorna reached for it. She didn't say much, but I didn't like the way she kept shaking her head.

"That was Nan over at the Circle Saloon," she announced after she hung up. "Five guys who've been drinking all night are on their way up here."

I let out a shriek. "WHAT?!"

Joey grinned. "She's just trying to scare you."

"No, it's true," said Lorna. "And it's just what we were talking about." She looked almost pleased by the coincidence.

I couldn't speak. I was screaming inside, but Joey and Lorna went on.

"Why are they coming?"

"Nan didn't say. She just wanted to warn me."

"Get your gun."

To my relief, Lorna objected. I could see it — Lorna with a puny pistol she'd be too soft to use, versus five drunks with shotguns. Joey argued that power was the only language those guys would understand. Lorna held her ground. Joey said she'd handle the gun if Lorna couldn't, and —

I cut in. "We've got to get out of here!"

We all started rushing around. I stashed the tarot cards under the couch, Joey grabbed our coats, Lorna ran upstairs to lock the cat in the bedroom.