Her voice was playfully teasing, but I still felt the need to apologize. “I’m sorry. I didn’t…” Jeanine laughed out and put a hand on my arm.
“I’m not upset, really. It was wonderful hearing her voice like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like a schoolgirl with a crush.” She leaned forward, her voice low and conspiratorial. “You’re a very lucky woman, Melanie.”
My mouth was hanging open as I tried to find my voice, my mind whirling through what Jeanine had just said. “I don’t, um, you might have the wrong idea, I think.”
“I do?”
“I mean, ah, she’s just a friend. We’re just friends.”
Her eyes said she didn’t believe me, but she didn’t push anything, instead just sitting back and looking at me.
I forced my eyes away, sitting back in my chair and trying to wrap my head around what I’d just heard. Okay, so Sandra Dalton is gay. Breathe, just breathe. Shit. If that were true, it changed everything I’d been telling myself about tonight. I didn’t have a ton of time for reflection, as Sandy came back to the table.
Jeanine smiled up at her. “How is he?”
Sandra laughed. “He’s fine. Nervous, per usual.” She looked around. “Great turn out. Actually, I’m going to run up to the bar.” Her hand rested on my shoulder, making me almost jump out of my chair. She pulled away. “Melanie, you want a glass of wine?”
I could see the pained look in her smile, so I tried to put some sunshine in my voice. “I’d love one. Thank you. Maybe a white Zinfandel?”
“Sure.”
I took a deep breath as she walked away. Should I go home? I could fake a headache, call an Uber. I mean, god, if this were a date, if Coach Dalton were really interested in me like that, that would be a disaster. I started to retreat into myself, feeling incredibly self-conscious as people milled around me. I felt ridiculous, like people were staring at me. Tears started to sting my eyes, and I could feel my lip start to quiver.
“Melanie, are you okay?”
“Yeah, I um,” I bit my lip and looked around as Sandra set my wineglass on the table in front of me. I needed to get out of here. “I need to use the ladies room.”
“Okay. It’s over there.”
I made a beeline to the side of the room to which Sandy was pointing, feeling every inch of my size as I tried to move through the crowd without disturbing anyone. Finally I made it, and by some miracle there was a free stall. I closed and latched the door, sitting on the toilet and drawing several great shaky breaths, clutching my purse to my chest. Okay, damn it, Melanie, breathe. I need to behave like an adult. Go out there, and tell her I need to go home. Right. Okay, here I go.
I stood up and unlatched the stall door and went to the sink. I washed my hands, staring at my reflection in the mirror for a moment before the door opened and Sandy walked in.
“Hey, are you okay?”
I tried to fight back the tears that were suddenly forming in my eyes. My resolve to leave immediately started to waver now that I was in her presence. No, I had to, I, um.
“Melanie?”
“I think I need to go.” My voice was weak and hesitant, and I couldn’t look in her eyes or whatever willpower I had left would evaporate.
I could literally feel the disappointment roll off her as she responded. “Oh, alright. I’ll, um, I’ll take you home.”
I finally let myself look at her. “No, stay for your friend. I’ll get an Uber or something.”
“Are you sure?”
“I think so.”
“Can, um, would you mind if I at least walked you out?”
I forced myself to smile. “Sure.” We made our way to the front door through the rapidly filling establishment and out onto the street. I started walking toward the corner, and Sandy fell into step beside me.
“So, um,” Sandy nervously pushed a strand of her curly hair back behind her ear, “Jeannie told me what you guys talked about. Is that why you’re upset?”
“Are you gay?”
“Yes, I am.”
“And when, you know, um, when you asked me to dinner?”
“Melanie, I have plenty of straight friends, like Jeanine, and if that’s all we can be okay, but, yes, I was hoping for more. The way you looked at me at my welcome dinner.” She touched my arm, making my cheeks heat up. “The way you blush when I touch you. I guess I’m still hoping for more.”
“But why?” My eyes were stinging again as I stared at the pavement. I just couldn’t understand. I was ugly, fat, worthless. And being teased with something I wanted so badly but couldn’t have was torture. I felt two fingers touch me, lifting my chin so I was suddenly staring into her gorgeously green eyes.
She grinned shyly. “Why? Because you’re funny, and brave, and a wonderful mother,” she brushed away a strand of my hair, her hand resting on the back of my neck. “Not to mention incredibly beautiful.”
“No, I’m not.” It came out as a half sob, and I looked away, unable to bear the pity in her eyes.
“Melanie, when’s the last time someone told you that you’re beautiful?” Her hand slid down my arm until her palm was firm in mine.
I just shook my head. It had been a very long time, at least since before I was noticeably pregnant with Charlie. She didn’t need me to say it.
“See, that’s not right. Someone should tell you how beautiful you are every single day.” She was standing close, so close, too close. My brain was screaming at me to push away, create some distance, but being close to her felt so wonderful I couldn’t move.
My heart was pounding in my chest and it was getting harder to breathe as I stared up into her green eyes and I knew, deep down, that if she tried to kiss me right now I’d let her, but she didn’t. Instead she stepped back, and I tried to get my breathing under control, and somehow, I sensed that she was doing the same thing.
Her hand slipped into mine. “Don’t go. Come listen to the concert with me. I’ll keep my hands to myself, I promise.” She was smiling sweetly, almost pleadingly. And the truth was, even though hiding in the bathroom stall all I’d wanted to do was escape. Here, standing next to Sandy, I wanted to stay.
I nodded and let out a small, shy smile, heat flushing my cheeks as Sandy’s face transformed from pleading to joyful. She nodded back towards the entrance and I turned that direction, and we started to head that way. Sandy glanced down at our hands, which were still linked together. “Do you want to let go?” I just tightened my grip on her hand as we headed back inside.
Unfortunately we did have to let go as we made our way back to our table. Jeanine turned to look at us as we came closer, concern evident on her face. “Everything okay?”
“It’s fine.” Sandy smiled at her as she pulled out a chair for me. As I sat the lights came down, and a man with long dark hair streaked with silver and a handsome, weathered face came out of the side door and sat on the stool onstage. He was greeted with an enthusiastic round of applause.
As he adjusted the microphone and strummed his guitar I realized that I had no idea what kind of music he was going to play. That was quickly answered, as a familiar progression of chords rang true from his weathered instrument. I was still trying to place it when he started to sing.
How many roads must a man walk down
Before they call him a man?
I let the familiar song roll over me, letting it ask questions that were still valid a half-century after Peter, Paul, and Mary had recorded it. (All due respect to Bob Dylan, but it’ll always be a PP&M song to me.)I wondered what the questions would be if the song had been released today? How many times must a lover’s heart break before they learn to love free?
In all, he covered songs I recognized from them, Joni Mitchell, and the Kingston Trio among others, plus some originals that were quite good. I remember my grandmother listening to some of these songs when I’d been a teen, and I’d thought them dreadfully slow and boring. But listening to them today, I found the melodies and lyrics timeless in a way that eludes other genres, feeling both uplifted and convicted.
But throughout the concert I could sense Sandra’s presence next to me like a warm fire, and so often I found myself subconsciously drawing closer to her. And when I closed my eyes I imagined leaning back against her, her arms around me.
When he finished the first half of his set Bryan came over and sat with us for ten minutes. Sandra blushed when she introduced me as her friend. Bryan shook my hand, the calluses from years of playing guitar evident on his fingers.
“So, how did you two meet?”
I glanced at Sandy, who smiled at me and wordlessly indicated that I could say if I wanted to. “My daughter, Paige, is a senior on the Lost Valley High Field Hockey Team. Sandy’s drawn the unenviable task of coaching them this year.”
“And then we ran into each other on Friday at the Ramen place. And I determined that Melanie does not get out enough.”
I made a face at her, and she returned it with an evil grin. “I have three teenagers. I don’t have a social life.”
“So I invited her here.”
“This is my first night out in a decade. It’s all her fault.”
Bryan gave his wife a quick but significant glance, which made me blush, and I decided to change the subject, getting Bryan going on how he got started playing folk music.