by Harper Bliss
I sigh. “The reason I want it changed is because it’s been the same for that long. It’s not modern.”
“Pff. Who needs modern when you can have familiar?”
“I know you certainly don’t.” I push the broom back in his hands. “Here. You do it. It’s good exercise.”
“Good exercise! Says the girl who sits on her butt all day in meetings.” Dad runs his fingers through his beard. “Who is this woman, by the way, Tessie? Do you have something to tell your mother and me?”
“She’s new in town.” I can’t help it. I start blushing. Surely my dad will catch on to it and tease me mercilessly.
“Is that right.” He leans on the broom. “And let me guess… she’s cute?”
“No. Dad. Lay off. It’s a professional meeting. It’s nothing like that.”
“Sure, honey. Go on. Off you go to your professional meeting. Is that why you were ironing your pants for half an hour this morning?”
“I’m leaving.” I head inside to grab my bag and strut to my car, not gracing my father with a glance back. That’s the thing about living with your parents. They ask too many questions. They can’t help it.
I give our border collie, Moby, a quick scratch behind the ears before hopping into my car. Then I’m off to meet Laura.
* * *
Laura’s already sitting at the same table—soon we’ll be able to start calling it ‘our table’—when I arrive at Mary’s. She’s dressed in jeans and t-shirt again, which doesn’t make her look frumpy at all. On the contrary. Though I do feel a little overdressed in my silk blouse and pristinely ironed pants.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” she begins to say as soon as she sees me. “Do you go to the hairdresser down the road here, or out of town?” She musses a hand through her hair. “My luscious mane is getting too long.”
“I can heartily recommend Connie’s Salon,” Mary chimes in from behind us. She’s just bringing Laura’s tea. “And I’d say that even if she weren’t my sister.”
“I concur.” I sit down. “I’ve been getting my hair done at Connie’s forever. Not that it requires a lot of hard work.” I did spend more than half an hour blow-drying it this morning, however. “The usual,” I say to Mary.
“Connie it is then. Do I need to make an appointment?”
“Heavens no. Just walk in.” With that, Mary heads off.
“I like your hair like that.” Damn it. I hadn’t meant to say that. What is wrong with me? One rejection this week wasn’t enough?
Laura runs a hand through her hair again and chuckles self-consciously while she does. “I’m so used to keeping it cropped, but with the move, I’ve had to forego a bit of my own maintenance. I at least need to have it cut into shape a bit more.”
“Trust me. Nobody here cares what your hair looks like.”
“If that’s true,” Laura asks, “then why does your hair look as though you paid Connie a visit right before coming here?” Her lips curl into a grin.
“There’s nothing wrong with a lady sprucing herself up a bit on a Wednesday.” I cup my hand over my hair in an exaggerated fashion.
“Exactly my point.” Laura chuckles and it’s the best sound I’ve heard all day—perhaps all week.
After Mary has brought my coffee, I tell Laura I picked the design with the robin as The Ledger’s new logo and she looks at it for a long time, not saying anything.
“Did I pick the wrong one?” I look at her over the rim of my cup.
“No, not at all.” Laura shakes her right arm a little. “But that one is the most difficult to digitalize and I’ve been having some issues with my main instrument lately.” She waggles the fingers of her right hand. “This one hasn’t been cooperating.”
“Have you seen a doctor?” I search Laura’s face for signs of worry but she seems unperturbed by what she just said. Either that, or she’s an excellent actress.
“No. Not yet. It’s probably just the stress of the move and adapting to all the changes in my life.”
“And what a big change that must be. Moving here from a city like Chicago?” I probe gently.
“It’s night and day,” Laura says. “I grew up in the suburbs, but lived in the inner city since college. I do love the quiet here, though. It’s not until I got here that I realized exactly how stressful city life actually is. There’s this unstoppable pulse of energy in the air. People all around all of the time. Traffic. Noise. Confined to living in a small space. Compared to that, the quality of life here is so much better.”
“In some ways, but on other fronts… pickings are rather slim,” I offer. “No movie theatre, no museums, no nightlife, no concerts… and definitely no lesbian bars.”
To my relief, Laura laughs. “It’s the same everywhere. Most lesbian bars in Chicago closed years ago. And that’s in a city of almost three million. Gay bars aplenty, though I hear their number is dwindling as well, but lesbian bars just can’t seem to stay afloat.”
“It’s because we’re cheap dates.”
“And there’s too much on television.”
“And the cat isn’t going to feed itself,” I add, enjoying this moment so much because it tells me we are still friends. The awkwardness of having asked Laura on a date has passed.
We both giggle a little, then Laura looks me straight in the eyes, and says, “I’m going to tell you a secret that may be considered a crime in Nelson, but I think you can help.”
“Shoot.” I squirm in my seat with anticipation.
“I’m 41 years old and I’ve never attended a football game in my life. Can you help me fix that?”
I slant my head to the side and open my palms. “You’ve come to the right person. I’ll hook you up, sister. There’s a game this Friday…” I expressly don’t ask her to come, wanting her to say the words herself.
“Are you going?” Laura asks.
“Scott wouldn’t speak to me for a month if I didn’t.”
“You go to all his games?” Laura’s eyes grow a little wider.
“Of course I do. As I said before, when it comes to entertainment, it’s slim pickings in this town.”
Laura draws her lips into the most adorable pout before she says, “Could I come with you?”
“I’ll get us the best seats. You can count on me.” Stupidly, I hold up my palm for a high five. Laura stares at it for a stunned instant, then, ever so gently slaps her palm against mine. Dang. I had to go and make things awkward again. But it doesn’t matter, because even if this is not an official date, I’ve just scored myself some more time with Laura. Something inside me sings with excitement. I decide not to push it by asking her to go for a bite before. Small steps. Or, as Megan called it: stealthily is the way to go.
“Thank you so much for agreeing to take my football virginity.” The skin around Laura’s eyes crinkles as she breaks out in a smile. And it’s as though, in that moment, I can see the woman beneath the wall she built around herself.
I like what I see.
“It will be my pleasure.”
Next, we refocus our attention on the reason of our meeting. We agree on a color palette for the logo—the shades of turquoise that Laura suggested—and start talking about the layout of the paper issue.
I end up drinking three coffees and am so wired by the end of the meeting that I actually consider asking Laura if I could join her on her daily run. But then I remember the comment Dad made earlier about my physical condition and I reluctantly realize he’s right. I don’t want to make a fool of myself by collapsing on the side of the road because I’m not able to keep up with her.
There are stakes in this game. I feel it more every time we meet.
Nine
Laura
I arrive at the Nelson Cougars stadium and can’t find a place to park. Tess wasn’t kidding when she said that Nelson takes its football very seriously. The whole town seems to have come out for it.
I manage to find a spot to park my old Honda at the very end of the street leading to
the stadium. I guess I should have left home half an hour earlier if I wanted to park closer. Luckily, Tess promised to get us the best seats in the house. I hurry toward the entrance. Most spectators must be inside already because, apart from a group of sullen teenagers, I’m the only one making my way to the stadium. At the entrance, I don’t see Tess, so I grab my phone out of my bag and see that I have 6 missed calls from her and an equal amount of messages. I check the side of my phone and see that I forgot to switch it off silent mode—again.
I ignore the messages and quickly call her back.
“Where are you?” she shouts into my ear. A loud roaring noise filters through the phone.
“At the entrance. I thought you said it started at seven?”
“The game starts at seven but the pre-game festivities start half an hour earlier. I’m sorry, I should have told you that. Hold on, I’m coming to get you.”
Christ. And all of that for a bunch of teenagers violently bumping into each other to catch a slippery ball. Though I guess I’d better not say that out loud on these premises.
“Hey.” Tess looks flushed when she comes out of the gate. She sounds out of breath too. “Come quickly. It’s about to begin.”
She gives a ticket to a man guarding the entrance and we rush inside. She leads me to a bench all the way in the front where I see Megan, her three kids, and two older people, huddled together.
“Hi Laura,” Toby says. Max gives me a wave as well. The girl—I think her name is Emma—sits comfortably in her grandfather’s arms and looks funny in a pair of huge headphones to protect her from the mad noise of the crowd. Because this crowd is mad.
“These are my parents,” Tess says, “Maura and Earl, and you’ve met Megan.”
“Hi, Laura.” Megan sounds exactly the same as Tess again. “Welcome to the home of the Cougars.” She chuckles. “These days that just sounds so wrong.”
“Why, Mommy?” Max asks.
“Never you mind,” Megan says.
I shake Tess’s parents’ hands. “They’re coming on,” Toby shouts.
“The boys get very excited on game night. Mainly because they get to stay up way past their bed time,” Tess’s mom says. “Very nice to meet you, Laura.”
A few feet from us, a broad-shouldered but quite short man who’s been pacing up and down the field turns to us and gives us a thumbs-up.
“That’s my husband,” Megan says.
I nod and think they must look so funny together, with him being a few inches shorter than his wife. Then, as the crowd breaks out into a huge round of applause, I consider the family I’m sitting with. For the longest time, Tracy was the only family I had. Despite my parents still being alive, they might as well have been dead to me for fifteen years. And I to them, I presume.
The stadium announcer yells out the name of the visiting team as they make their way onto the field. “Put your hands together for the Darthville Cobras, folks.” But the crowd has gone quiet now and, beside me, little Max even makes a booing sound.
“That’s not very nice,” Tess scolds him. “How would you feel about being booed like that?”
“Auntie Tess is right, Max.” Megan pulls him close to her and gives him a quick hug.
“I’m sorry,” Max says in a small voice. And that’s that.
“You’re the one keeping Tessie so busy these days,” Tess’s father says with a big smirk on his face.
“Leave her alone, Earl.” His wife pokes him in the side.
“Hey, I’m holding your only granddaughter here,” Earl retorts.
“Don’t listen to your father, hon,” Maura says.
Tess puts a hand on my shoulder and whispers in my ear. “Don’t mind them.” I feel myself recoil under her touch, but I hope my jacket is thick enough to keep her from feeling my knee-jerk reaction.
“You have a lovely family,” I say. Very accepting, I think, but don’t add.
“They’re not too bad.” Luckily, Tess has removed her hand from my shoulder. “Let’s focus on the game now. Do you know how it works?”
“I do know that. You can’t live in America and not be force-fed the rules of football. It’s next in line after learning the pledge of allegiance.”
“You’ll get along with my brother-in-law swimmingly,” Tess says. “Though he believes kids should learn the rules of football first and the pledge second.”
“Ah, to go through life pursuing a passion like that.” I look over the players in their tight uniform pants and padded shoulders on the field. The Cougars are in blue, the Cobras in red.
“Imagine what it does to him when the team loses. That’s an entire weekend ruined. I always see much more of Megan after a loss,” Tess jokes.
Because I was listening to Tess, I missed what happened on the field, but something must have occurred because the crowd suddenly goes wild.
“Go, go, go,” Megan yells. The boys are beside themselves and Emma shrieks behind me.
“Touchdown Cougars,” the announcer says. “What an excellent start to the evening.”
Tess is jumping up and down next to me, her hands thrown in the air. I must admit, I feel the adrenaline rush through me as well. Rooting for a winning team is the most fun I’ve had in ages.
“Go Cougars,” Earl yells from behind me, and it makes me break out in laughter again. I’ve only been here ten minutes and I’m already beginning to understand why my country is so addicted to this sport. It’s the emotion we get to unleash in these stands. All the things we need to keep inside during the week, we can let out during the game and the excitement it incites.
“Come on, Jason,” Megan shouts. “Kick it through, baby.”
All these grown people are getting completely beside themselves because a young man is about to kick a football. It’s astounding.
Jason gets the extra point and everyone goes wild again. Tess does as well and, in the process, grabs my upper arm with both her hands and starts shaking.
“Sorry,” she says, after she’s let go. “Got a little carried away there.”
I turn to her and look into her elated face. “I get it,” I say. And I do. In a way it reminds me of Sunday mornings in church before I was a teenager. The congregation would come out en masse, all primped up for the occasion, and would just let go of any inhibitions as they sang hymns. While I wonder where this need to lose ourselves like this comes from, I turn to look behind me. There’s not a person I can see who hasn’t got a huge smile plastered across their face. What can I possibly have against football after witnessing this?
The rest of the evening I watch the Nelson Cougars take two touchdowns, while they score three more themselves, making it a clear win for the home team.
After celebrating loudly for almost thirty minutes, the crowd starts dissipating. The coach comes over to give his wife a celebratory kiss and his kids a hug.
“Bedtime for you now,” he says to the kids. I now get what Tess said to me the other day. The five of them look like the picture-perfect family.
The grandparents, children, and Megan quickly say their goodbyes because Emma has already fallen asleep on Earl’s arm. Then it’s just me and Tess again.
“That was so much fun.”
Tess’s cheeks are flushed and she has a happy, healthy glow about her. A glow I rarely see on someone in the city.
“Wanna come again next time?”
“Yes, please.”
“We’ll make a Cougars fan out of you yet.”
“You just might.” I shuffle my weight around a bit. I know that if I go home I’ll be too wired to sleep. “Want to go for a drink?”
“Sure,” Tess says, a big grin spreading on her face. “I know just the place.”
Ten
Tess
“You might have seen that Nelson has two bars,” I explain to Laura. “Sam’s Bar, where everyone else is right now, celebrating and getting drunk and rowdy.” I wave my arm across the room. “And this fine, more uptown establishment. And yes, before you say any
thing, for Nelson, this is uptown.” I nod my head solemnly. “I thought you would prefer this place to end your Friday night with.”
“You thought correctly.” Laura stares into my eyes for an instant.
We order a glass of red wine and a virgin mojito and after the drinks have arrived and we both have a full glass in front of us, Laura says, “Your family is wonderful.”
“They’re a hard bunch to get away from and therefore are the reason I’m stuck in this town.” Even I can hear the smile in my voice. “But yeah, I love them to pieces.”
“You’re lucky.” Laura stares into her non-alcoholic drink.
“What about your family?” At this point, I think it’s a fair enough question, seeing that Laura just met mine.
“Classic story of Evangelical Christians losing the most important part of their Christianity when their daughter comes out as a lesbian.”
“Oh shit. Really? Do you see them?”
“Never. They claim I have broken their hearts. And Jesus’s.” Laura sighs. “The amount of hearts a lesbian telling the truth can break. It’s astounding.” She utters an uncomfortable laugh.
“I’m so sorry for you, Laura. That’s horrible.”
“It is what it is. I’m in my forties now, so I can see things more clearly. But growing up, and realizing who I was while knowing how much my parents condemned it. That was pretty hard. For the longest time, I thought it best not to tell them at all. But after college and after meeting so many people whose parents accepted them for who they were, I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I told them. The rest is history.”
Laura’s voice is level and matter-of-fact. She sounds as though she dealt with this a long time ago. But it must still hurt.
I shake my head. “I fail to understand how a parent can turn away from their child like that.”
“Religion is a powerful motivator. It doesn’t help that my father is a preacher. ‘How would it look if I accepted this sort of abomination from my own flesh and blood?’ he asked me. ‘I can’t be that sort of hypocrite.’” Laura looks at me. Her face is blank. “They’re dead to me.” She sips from her drink. “What is the hardest to accept, I guess, is that they created me. As my father said, I am their flesh and blood. It can mess with your self-esteem when you have zero respect for your parents and their choices.”