Lingo Slinger

Growing up, she had a feminist mother who lectured at the local university on Women’s rights, and a jet-setting father who ran a successful porn distribution business. Her mother always encouraged her to be independent, not rely on men, and taught her to look out for herself. She often wondered if her mom was a lesbian, but she never asked the question.

During her university years she strayed from her parents, realizing that they added too much drama to her already dysfunctional life. She studied women in religion and politics in school but dropped out in her 3rd year out of fear of turning into her mother.

She moved out West to Vancouver and found herself a roommate in the art district. A funky industrial loft with exposed brick and ductwork, and original strip flooring. It felt good to be away. Her roommate was a post-grad fine arts student who was bi-polar and brilliant. Her name was Ally.

“Does this suck?” Ally asked one day while holding up a painting.

“No, of course not. I think it’s really good. A little dark, but I like it.”

Ally circled her precariously while holding her painting, making her a bit nervous. “What do you mean dark? Life is dark. Society is dark. We live in a dark world. I think this doesn’t do the darkness justice.”

Sylvia raised an eyebrow nervously and said “I like it Ally. Don’t destroy it, it’s good.”

Ally had this bad habit of spitting on her paintings, smashing them over her knee, and whipping them at the wall, whenever they didn’t feel right. Sylvia tried to curb her destructive behaviour by being as safe as possible with her comments.

Sylvia realized, after 3 months of living in Vancouver, that perhaps it was time to get a job. She’d never really had to work before, and never much worried about money, but her bank account was getting skinny and she needed a way to supplement her extravagant lifestyle. She applied for a job as a curator in a local art gallery, overseeing the new media installments. She didn’t have any direct experience, but she was a culture junkie and a self-proclaimed art snob, so it didn’t stop her from going after it.

A week later she interviewed with the owner of the gallery and was awarded the position on the spot based on her knowledge of art and new media. Ally was thrilled. She felt a connection with the owner, a sort of motherly connection, which reminded her of her own estranged mother.

One day a new piece arrived, it was a digital print that changed depending on how you looked at it. She unwrapped it carefully and set it on the floor. It was an image of two women embracing, but when you changed your angle, the embrace became erotic. She stood and stared at it for a while, admiring it’s beauty.

She set up the exhibit in the B corridor and began preparing the artist info card to go beside the print. Suddenly she dropped the card on the floor and gasped!

The artist was none other than her mother. Her staunch feminist quasi-but un-admitted lesbian mom. Suddenly the print took on a whole new meaning. She felt awkward and weird about it and had to seek the assistance of a sculpture curator to help her set it up.

Jared was happy to help and sensed the apprehension in her demeanor with the piece.

“Not into gay art I take it?” he said as he pasted the info card onto the small wooden plaque.

She laughed nervously, “Umm no, it’s just that…. I don’t know really. I just wasn’t expecting this that’s all.”

“Well we do carry a lot of gay art in this gallery, so I’m sure you’ll become de-sensitized to it eventually.”

Jared finished the installation and grabbed Sylvia’s hand “come on… let’s go have a smoke”.

“I don’t smoke” she said

“Yeah well, you look like you could use one” he shot back.

“Fine, give me one then”

He pulled out his cigarette case, debonair filter and lit a smoke for himself, and one for Sylvia.

She coughed a little after taking her first drag, but quickly caught on and felt better after a few deep inhales.

“It’s getting late” Jared said “Do you have much else to do?”

“No, but I sure could go for a drink. Do you want to come with?”

“Sure, there’s a great Gallery down the street that turns into a Martini lounge after 10, I know the owner, so we’ll get the royal treatment.”

Jared and Sylvia took off to SHOCK, the gallery down the street, where they indulged in a number of martinis and began making fun of the art and patrons.

Sylvia stopped laughing and looked at Jared, “This might sound weird, but can you do something for me?”

“Sure” he said

“I need to fuck you” she said

Jared almost choked on his Cosmopolitan. She continued, “look, it’s that fucking piece of art. It’s my moms, and she’s a lesbian, and I need to know that I’m not. I need to confirm it. So will you fuck me?”

(awkward silence)

“Sylvia… I don’t know if you knew this or not… but i’m Gay honey. I’m sorry. You are beautiful and any guy would be lucky to have you in his bed, but I just don’t swing that way.”

She broke out into a flood of tears and apologized profusely to Jared. Her mascara began streaming down her face and Jared realized he had to get her out of there quickly.

He took her back to his apartment and made her some chamomile tea, while they sat watching Sex & The City reruns. Sylvia started to feel somewhat better, and less intense.

She put her empty tea cup down on the table and smiled at Jared, when he unexpectedly grabbed her face and started kissing her. “Yes… Lets do this.” he said, “I want to.”

They moved into his bedroom and made love to each other on his modern minimalist bed, while Morcheeba played in the background and Vanilla candles burned beside them. After a good romp they both stared up at the ceiling, exhausted.

“Can I tell you something?” Sylvia said.

“Of course, anything Honey.”

She broke out laughing “I think I might be gay!”

They both laughed for a few minutes until tears streamed down their cheeks. Jared pulled her close and kissed her forehead and whispered, “Yeah, and you wanna hear something even crazier?… I’m not so sure I am anymore.”