Coming Attractions Read Online Free PDF Page A

opinion.”
    “I didn’t ask for yours, lady.”
    “You damn well did if you read my column.” After his attitude, she estimated hundreds of brutal calls and messages when she reached her office. “Look, buddy. I won’t argue with someone whose grandest decision is whether to make a left or right turn.”
    “You got a smart mouth.”
    “Lately it’s been rather dumb.”
    The cabby laughed and shrugged. “You ain’t tellin’ me nothin’ I don’t know. Now where to?”
    “West Fifty-Seventh.”
    “What number?”
    “Just go.”
    *
    After crossing the Avenue of the Americas, she had a short walk to her office. On a downbeat day, a casual stroll gave her a needed sense of relaxation before the onslaught of callers would damn her to hell, again.
    An attack, indeed, but not of callers. Helen was shocked to witness a group of demonstrators, police officers, and television crews that had swarmed the entrance to the newspaper. Picket signs held messages from opposing groups. She presumed they were right wing Republicans whose slogans read: N O R IGHTS W HEN G AY’S N OT R IGHT and T EACH O UR C HILDREN F AMILY V ALUES . Other posters, however, read: H ELEN’S C LOUT C AN H ELP U S O UT and A BORT H OMOPHOBIA .
    “No, it’s not the opinion of the paper. Helen chooses her own columns,” Sam told a reporter who shoved a microphone toward him. “But we’ll defend the right of freedom of the press.”
    She hadn’t anticipated a demonstration of public opinion. Phone calls from pinpricked patrons were easier to deal with. With reporters and cameras, there would be pressure to come out, and she didn’t want to become a sideshow for the eleven o’clock news. At least not this way. She’d do that under her own terms. When she turned to walk away, members of the media snagged her, and she found herself no longer hidden from hungry and anxious ears.
    “Helen!” reporter Jan Roland from NBC called out. She headed toward her, camera operator in tow. Helen watched Sam dash past them to be with her. Police held back the forty or so chanting protesters. ABC and CBS fell in with the NBC crew.
    Sam took hold of her arm. “Are you okay to face the cameras?”
    No, she wasn’t okay. She’d rather turn around and make a mad dash for the Queensboro Bridge and then pick up a nine iron at the golf center in Flushing Meadows. It didn’t matter that she didn’t golf.
    “I’ll handle them.”
    Roland shoved a microphone near Helen. “You’ve stirred up the proverbial hornets’ nest with your column,” she announced to Helen and the camera. “Some of these individuals seem to think—”
    “Tell her, Helen.” A man waved a rainbow sign. “Come on. Tell her we’re here, we’re queer, and so are some of you.” The chanting spread throughout the gay activists.
    So cliché. Helen’s eyes narrowed and she clenched her teeth. That type of finger pointing she loathed. She thought it obscene to incriminate others and, if forced, she would neither admit nor deny anything.
    “My column supports the rights of a particular subculture of our society. I could have chosen any subculture.”
    “Baa, baa, black sheep. Have you any wool?” a woman and her female companion yelled.
    Roland stepped closer with the microphone and Helen stepped back. “What do you expect to accomplish with your column?”
    “Nothing. Unless our society is quick to emancipate their minds, nothing will change much. We’re probably the only living organism that doesn’t tolerate same-sex affection. And why is that? Is it because we have a brain with the ability to think and discern? No. Monkeys have those abilities.” She looked directly into Roland’s eyes. Helen had once dated the still-closeted reporter. “I suspect rats do, too.” When Roland lowered her microphone and took a step backward, Helen pushed her way through the herd of protesters and cameras.
    “Show’s over,” Sam said and guided her through the boisterous crowd.
    *
    Alone,