On and on it went, depicting a ruthless international organization that brooked no dissent and was bent on undermining every American value. It should have been terrifying to read, but the drumbeat of horror after horror somehow muted its effect. Lily skimmed through the questions more rapidly, until number ninety-five caught her attention: “What is Communism’s greatest strength?”
The response was oddly provocative, even stirring: “Its secret appeal to the lust for power. Some people have a natural urge to dominate others in all things.”
And then, in italics on a separate line: “Communism invites them to try.”
She knew the pamphlet was presenting Communism as an immoral lust for power, but perversely, perhaps, she found this last warning inspirational. Four words seemed to rise up off the page in whispers: secret, lust, natural, try.
She lay back against her pillow, letting the booklet fall on her chest so that it rose and fell with the motion of her breath.
Tomorrow, she decided, she would invite Kath to go with her to Thrifty Drugs. She had to show her that novel.
11
Lily spun the rack of tawdry paperbacks again, then began to flip through novel after novel, hunting for the provocative cover of Strange Season. The blonde （that had to be Patrice） in her negligee on the floor; the brunette （Maxine, with dark eyes） above in her sultry black gown. Lily was aware of Kath beside her, watching, and she said, “It’s been here for weeks. I thought it would still be here.”
Kath pulled a book from the next rack over—a detective novel with the silhouette of a corpse on the cover—and asked, “What was the title? I’ll help you look.”
“Strange Season.”
Kath put the detective novel back and started to look through the other books. When Lily had finished with the romance rack she moved on to science fiction, wondering if it had been mistakenly placed there, but at last she had to admit defeat.
“It’s gone,” Lily said, sighing. “I suppose someone bought it.” She couldn’t imagine who might have had the nerve to put their money down on the counter. Someone very bold.
“What was it about?” Kath asked.
When she decided to show the book to Kath, Lily hadn’t considered the possibility that it would be gone. She had hoped the book would do the work of voicing the questions she wanted to ask, but without it, she was back where she had started. She was faced with a choice now: She could explain what the book had been about, or she could lie. Kath was watching her expectantly, and there was something in her expression that made Lily hope that perhaps she already knew the book, but Lily told herself that was wishful thinking. In all the time they had spent together, all those walks down Columbus, they had never brought up the Telegraph Club or Kath’s friend Jean. Not once. Lily wanted to believe that the total absence of those topics signified their importance, but it probably meant nothing.
She felt queasy, and Kath reached out and touched her arm.
“Are you all right?” Kath asked.
Kath’s fingers pressed lightly against Lily’s upper arm. She saw both concern and curiosity in Kath’s eyes. They were grayish blue, like the sky covered by a scudding sheet of rainclouds.
Lily backed away into the corner between the science fiction rack and the rear wall of the store, and Kath followed her. They were quite alone now, and above them the fluorescent light buzzed as if a mosquito were trapped inside the bulb.
“It was about two women.” Lily’s mouth felt so dry she might choke on the words. “That book, Strange Season. It was about two women, and they fell in love with each other.” And then she asked the question that had taken root in her, that was even now unfurling its leaves and demanding to be shown the sun: “Have you ever heard of such a thing?”
Kath’s eyes widened briefly, and then she looked down at the floor and over at the science fiction rack and back at Lily, who felt her heart thudding like a drum, her blood rushing through her veins and turning her skin pink as she waited for Kath’s response. An eternity seemed to pass; the heat of the fluorescent light on her head was like an artificial sun; the cash register at the front of the store rang like an alarm bell.
Finally Kath said one soft word: “Yes.”
* * *
—
They left Thrifty Drug Store and walked down Columbus, away from Chinatown and North Beach, toward the Filipino restaurants and groceries of Manilatown. The afternoon sunlight caused the shadows to slant eastward, downhill, as if pointing them forward, and as they walked, Lily told Kath more about what she had read.