bar loses it. “Jolene.”
It’s cliché, I know, but if I had to listen to one song for the rest of my life, it would be “Jolene.” Everyone loves it, but I like to think it takes a special kind of heartbreak to really call the song your own. I mean, Dolly Parton—THE Dolly Parton—is singing to some mysterious Jolene who she thinks is more beautiful and more worthy than her, begging her not to take her man. It’s catchy and everyone knows the words, but to me, it’s this reminder that no matter who you are, there will always be someone prettier or smarter or thinner. Perfection is nothing more than a phantom shadow we’re all chasing. If I could sing worth a lick, this would be the song I’d sing for the pageant.
By the end of the song, I’m wiping away tears I didn’t even realize I was shedding.
The four of us leave at the end of the night with this look of wonder plastered to our faces, like we’ve spent the last few hours sitting too close to the TV.
As we’re walking to the van, someone calls to us from the back door. “Hey! Kiddies!”
I turn. It’s the bouncer from earlier. “Y’all go on,” I tell Millie, Hannah, and Amanda. “I’ll be there in a sec.”
The burly man sits on a stool, holding the back door open with his back. “Name’s Dale,” he says. “You enjoy yourself tonight?”
I nod. “I think it’s safe to say that this has been a formative experience in my life.”
“Seems like a fair thing to say about most drag shows.”
I nod back to the van. “My friends had fun, too.”
“Lee!” he calls behind him as he stubs out his cigarette beneath his boot. “Honey!”
Lee Wei, the queen who sang “Jolene,” saunters out the back door. She’s even shorter and somehow rounder without her high heels. She looks from me to the bouncer, and smiles, even though she obviously has no idea who I am.
“You ’member Lucy?” Dale asks. “Used to come around here with Suze Dryver.”
El’s mom. Oh Jesus. I wish El had been here tonight. It’s the only thing that could have made the whole experience even more perfect.
Lee holds her hand to her chest. “Oh, sweet Lucy! Of course I do.” Her voice is deeper than I expect.
“This is her niece,” says Dale.
I nod. “Willowdean.”
Without a moment of hesitation, Lee reaches for my hand. “I am so sorry,” she tells me. “Lucy was a real gem. She had a kind, open heart. We were so sad to see her go.”
“Th-thanks,” I say, and I don’t really know why, but I add, “I’ve been real lost without her. Like, she was this compass I didn’t even know I had.”
She nods, and Dale presses his lips together in a thin line. “You email the club’s address if you ever need anything,” he says.
Lee steps forward and plants a kiss on my forehead. “There’s nothing good about losing someone,” she says. “But maybe Lucy wasn’t supposed to be your compass forever. Maybe she was there for you just long enough so you could learn how to be your own compass and find your own way.” She winks at me. “The universe is a strange thing.”
I leave Dale and Lee there at the stage door and hop into the backseat of the van.
“What did they want?” Amanda asks.
“Just told me not to come back until we’re eighteen.”
“You’ve got lipstick on your forehead,” says Hannah.
“I know.” I want to leave it there forever as a blessing. The last permission I need to be my own role model.
THIRTY-NINE
One week turns into two, and I realize that Mitch and I have begun to spend lunches and almost every moment not dedicated to work or the pageant together. I almost even tell him about the drag show at the Hideaway, but it’s like trying to explain your favorite part of a movie to someone who’s never seen it—you’ll never do it justice.
We both settle into an easy type of routine where I come over and watch him play video games, even taking the controls myself a few times. I stay for dinner one night, but it feels too much like trespassing.
From what I gather, Mitch and his mom eat dinner together every night while his dad takes his meal on a TV tray in front of his recliner. I watch him walk in from work, grab a beer, and wait in the living room for his food to be