A few weeks later, at the rodeo, Tess kicks my ass, royally. I wouldn’t have thought it possible with her long limbs and high center of gravity, but she held on to that bull as though her life depended on it, beating Megan in the process as well.
We spend the afternoon hanging around one of the local farms and, apart from Friday night home games, this seems to be the only other occasion the entire town comes out for. It’s a fun day out and Tess and I stay to watch the professionals battle it out. There are seven contestants, all of whom have come to Nelson for this reason only. To our great delight, one of them is a woman, who takes on the men with gusto and bravado.
“It’s been a while since we had a proper cowgirl in these parts,” Tess says, casting her glance over the woman approvingly.
The bull rider is dressed in the right attire for today’s business. Flannel shirt, black vest, low-slung jeans and a pair of cowboy boots. “If I’d run into this woman in Chicago, my gaydar would be pinging uncontrollably, but this is the countryside and you just can’t tell.”
“What are you insinuating, Laura?” Tess looks at me with an expression of faux-indignation on her face. “That us country girls all look like lesbians to you?”
I shake my head. “You’re missing the point entirely.” I elbow Tess in the arm so she looks over at the woman again. She’s staring straight at us.
“She’s handsome,” I say when we’ve averted our gaze.
“Are you trying to get rid of me or something?” There’s unexpected bite to Tess’s tone. I guess there is a limit to our banter.
Megan and Scott come over and the woman disappears from our field of vision. I keep her in the back of my mind. Maybe we’ll bump into her later.
“We’re taking the kids home. They’ve had too much sugar,” Scott says.
“No they haven’t, hon. That’s just how children behave in the middle of a Saturday afternoon when their friends are around,” Megan counters.
“Are you going to the dance tonight?” Tess asks.
“No. Emma’s got a cold coming on and I don’t want to leave her with Mom and Dad for the night. She’ll wake them up too often,” Megan says.
Scott stands shaking his head in disbelief. “And now she’ll wake us up ten times during the night.”
“No darling,” Megan says, “It’s the weekend, which means you get up when the kids need one of us before dawn.”
Scott rolls his eyes. “I don’t know why I ever married a Douglas.” He shoots me a quick wink.
“I’m an Ingersley now,” Megan says. “Although it hasn’t had much positive effect on me.”
“I’m taking you home, woman,” Scott says.
They say their goodbyes, gather their children and leave the rodeo fest.
“What do you say, Laura? Time for a disco nap before we get our dancing shoes on?” Tess asks.
I agree, while I remind myself that this dance is going to be something entirely different than what I’m used to from parties in Chicago.
“She’s here,” I say to Tess, more to steer her attention away from the poor imitation of line dancing I’m doing than to actually let her know.
“Who?” Tess is, of course, a natural at line dancing. She’s had a lifetime of practice.
“The cowgirl. She’s at the bar. Knocking them back like a pro.”
“What’s with you and that woman? Are you trying to tell me something? If you’re interested in her, be my guest, Laura.” Tess keeps jutting her feet out rhythmically while she says this.
I grab her by the arm and coax her out of the line. “You know very well I’m not interested in her.”
“It sure sounded like you were.” Tess is actually sulking.
“What’s the matter?” She has me worried now.
“You… you’re trying to pawn me off to the first woman who walks into town and vaguely looks like she could be a lesbian. Like you’ve had enough of me.”
“I put both hands on Tess’s shoulders. “I’m sorry if I was being too pushy. I just wanted to make clear that you shouldn’t hold back on my account.”
“Oh, I know that. I know that very well.” Tess seems a little angry.
“Do you want to step outside for a minute?” I drop my hands from her shoulders.
“No, Laura, I just want to dance. I just want to have a good time.” Tess already has one foot back on the dance floor. She really does love her line dancing.
I back off and sit down at a table on the edge of the dance floor. I probably did push her too far. Like I was trying to live vicariously through her. I let my gaze roam over the dance floor, and over the simple but exquisite pleasure the dancers are experiencing. Automatically, I compare what I’m seeing to Chicago where the clubs are always trying to outdo each other when it comes to new technologies. But lasers and revolving podiums and ridiculously expensive DJs don’t make happiness, I conclude. The simpler, the better. That’s why I moved here.
I glance over at the bar, at the cowgirl. Even when she was riding the bull, and holding on for dear life, she kept a certain grace about her. Smile half-cocked, lips pursed in concentration, eyes on the prize. She came second and was very gracious about that as well.
While my glance skitters back from the cowgirl to Tess, I wonder if I would feel the slightest pang of jealousy if, hypothetically, the cowgirl managed to pick Tess up. I look at Tess strutting her stuff on the floor and, with a fierceness that surprises me, I conclude that I would be. I’m ashamed by my own selfishness. While it’s silly to claim that I have no right to feel that way, that’s how I see it. Because I can’t give Tess what she wants. Can’t even come close. Not even for a night. Not even for a minute.
I push any thoughts of Tracy to the back of my mind, sit back, and watch the dancers. Tess glances over in my direction again. The dancing must have lifted her spirits. She gives me a sort of wicked grin I haven’t seen on her before and, instead of wondering about the consequences, or analyzing what she means by it and what I would say in my defense if it were to lead to us having a moment again, I just enjoy the view of my friend dancing and having a good time.
A few songs later, when the music has turned slow and Tess has turned down the invitation to dance from one of the cowboys, she sits next to me, and says, “You know what, Laura? I danced on it, and maybe you’re right.”
I quirk up my eyebrows, waiting for further explanation.
“If that cowgirl makes a move, I may not reject it. Emphasis on ‘may’, but it’s a first step.” To back up what she just said, Tess looks over at the woman and I witness how their gazes meet. I am jealous now. But that’s my problem.
“Oh God, I think she’s coming over.” Tess looks at the table. “You have to help me, Laura. I’m so out of practice.”
“No you’re not,” I say, “and I should know.” This elicits a look from Tess I can’t decipher.
“Howdy, ladies.” The woman has reached our table. In one hand she holds a beer bottle, the other hand she clasps around her belt. “Aren’t you two just the cutest couple I’ve seen.”
“We’re not a couple,” Tess and I say simultaneously.
The woman gives a deep-throated laugh. “Okay. Got it.” She has the same half-cocked smile on her face as this afternoon on the bull. “My name is Sherry and I came to this lovely little town to win the rodeo, but I didn’t. So now I could do with some company. Do you mind if I join you?”
I let Tess do the talking. “Of course. Pull up a chair. I’m Tess, and this is Laura.”
“I saw you strutting your stuff on the floor there, Tess. You’ve got moves, girl,” Sherry says to Tess, then turns to me. “Not much of a dancer, are you? I’m the same.”
“Laura’s new in town. She’s still learning,” Tess says and shoots me a furtive glance. Is this my cue to leave? I did tell her I would be her wing woman if she needed me, but we have no practice at this and I don’t know what the rules are. I guess I’ll set the rules then.
“Moved here a few months ago.” Up close, Sherry has a sort of rugged handsomeness that seldom works on a woman, but it does on her. She must get all the girls wherever she goes. She’d better treat Tess right. “Still building my business. Speaking of which, I just caught sight of Billy and I need to check in with him about something. Please excuse me.”
I try to give Tess an encouraging smile. If she hadn’t just said that she ‘may’ not reject Sherry’s advances, I wouldn’t have left her alone with the cowgirl. But it’s sort of my duty to give her a push. If anything, it would be good for her to bask in the attention another woman bestows on her. For her life to revolve a little less around me for a night. I give her a quick tap on the shoulder and make my way to the bar. I don’t see Billy anymore, nor do I have any business to discuss with him. I do run into Myriam and Isabella, who regale me with a tale of how their cat gave birth to the cutest litter of ginger kittens and ask me if I want to adopt one. I’m so absent-minded—I keep thinking about Tess and sneaking peeks at her—that I accept without even thinking about it.