You've never had an ally before, you've never had someone to speak to about this. And now it's someone you hadn't expected. Well, you'd suspected, but you'd hoped it was all in your mind. And it wasn't. And neither Betty or Gladys got around to mentioning it for… years, now. You know why Betty didn't bring it up; the same reason she never brings anything like this up. She thinks you'll hate her if she mentions anything about her preferences. But Gladys, you guess, has only just noticed that it's not one-sided as it used to be and wanted to come clean, now that it actually means something to you.
You can't blame her. You dated your best friend's boyfriend. You can't blame Gladys for wanting to comfort Betty because her face when you left with your father will always haunt you, and you wish you had been strong enough to comfort her then yourself, instead of spitting spite in her face and disappearing.
If Betty ever leaves again, even to cover for something you did, you don't know what you'd do. The time she spent in prison was worse than the time you spent with your father because at least you knew she was safe, if a little bruised, in the boarding house. You weren't, but you'd drawn danger away from her. Every lash was worth that. By your stripes, she was healed.
Gladys never tried to comfort you like that when Betty was gone, and you suppose you have Ivan to thank for that. Not that you would have wanted her to, but you know Betty has more experience than you, and so does Gladys and she might have made this whole realization easier if she'd just made a move on you one of the many nights she spent in your room at the boarding house.
Ivan didn't just idolize you; he idealized you. You turned you into someone you weren't, and you were fine with that for a while because you so desperately needed to be someone you weren't after all those years being Marian. But you could never tell him, not the way you spilled it out to Betty over months of quiet nights and rowdy drinks, cocooned in one of your rooms, touching at the knees, or her hand hesitantly resting on your shoulder as you told the longest story you'd ever lived. You could share the darkness with her, and in doing so, become a little lighter. Ivan would have turned away, embarrassed. You saw shock on Betty's face a few times, but her hand always moved softly over your forearm or back. She put away her earthly desires and was the friend you needed her to be. There was no judgment there; you were very much a trophy for Ivan and at the first sign of damage he'd have returned you. You see that now. You hedged your bets on someone who took you at your face value because he didn't care to see deeper.
It's a little harsh, thinking these cruel thoughts of a dead man, but he dropped you like an oily 25 pounder at the first sign of trouble, only to up and marry your doppelganger who turned out to be a spy.
You, Betty and Helen. He really was unlucky in love.
He never really tried anything with you, which is why you're turning to Gladys' knowledge base. You're aware that there's a thing called kissing which happens; it's happened to you a few times already. But you're never… certain where to go from there. Betty kissed you and you pulled away. That man in the storage area, Donald, kissed you and Leon clobbered him. Ivan used to kiss you goodnight. The strongest emotion you've had from kissing is fear, and that can't be right. You're sure other people have enjoyed it; do enjoy it. You picked up talk at the revue but you could never imagine Ivan doing any of that. Your mother did share the basics with you, but it seems so… absurd. But you know what she told you to be the truth; you'd seen the end result, delivered babies since you were ten. She had no reason to lie to you.
But if neither of you are men, then what, exactly, does Betty want from you, or any other woman. What was she doing that night you heard giggles from her room, what was she doing with that soldier while you were lugging vegetables on streetcars?
Luckily Gladys comes downstairs before you get too waylaid in your own thoughts.
"It's not that different with a woman, I imagine." Gladys says briskly. She wants this conversation over with.
"But if we're both women…"
"Then you just do everything except that, I guess. Not like that's a hardship," Gladys' mouth quirks at the last word.
"I thought that was it, what else is there except…"
"Oh Kate," Gladys says, and she looks a little concerned. "There's so much more."
Author's note: Maybe I'm making out Kate to be a little too naïve, but I think she's playing Gladys a little, coming across a little more innocent than she is to gain the intel she thinks she needs.