Prairie Fire

by Kayt C Peck

  Kathleen breathed a loud sigh of relief. “Opportunity certainly does make a difference.”

  Pookie leaned as far forward as she possibly could without releasing her seatbelt. “So, did either of you ever do it with a guy?”

  “Pookie, sweetie,” Kathleen said.

  “Yes?”

  “Shut up.”

  They listened to tire hum for a time, until Judy started to giggle. Pookie out-and-out laughed.

  “This is not the kind of game of twenty questions I want to answer on a road trip,” Kathleen said, smiling despite the disdain in her voice. “I’ll bet we’re close enough to Amber to get the Country station,” she said.

  Kathleen punched the radio “on” button then the pre-set button for the desired station, turning up the volume when music was heard. Judy raised the plastic cover on the passenger sun-visor, exposing the mirror. She looked directly at Pookie in the seat behind her and gave the younger woman a brazen wink. Pookie held her breath, holding in her laughter.

  aaAA

  Pookie walked up the wooden stairs behind her moms. She carried a platter of the stuffed jalapenos she and Kathleen had made while Judy was outside moving the horses out of the corrals into the horse pasture and shutting Somegood and Useless into the barn where they were well supplied with extra food and water. They’d be spending the night in Amber, guests of Judy and Kathleen’s friends, April and Sophia. Brad would check dogs, horses, and cattle in the morning, and the three women were free for a real girls’ night out.

  Pookie had been equal parts eager and anxious from the moment Judy first suggested they all go to Amber for the weekly Ladies’ Room meeting. She’d been comfortable with the group of young people in the gay-straight alliance from her high school, the group that enabled her to find Kathleen as her mentor and lesbian mom. She’d known some of them since kindergarten, and it had been an easy transition from school to being the gay clique. Pookie usually found it easy to meet new people. Even as a young child, her father had always brought her along, meeting clients, friends, and other artists, even his buddies at the golf course. Still, this was something new. She and her friends had wheedled their way into a gay bar in Colorado Springs a time or two, and Pookie figured she’d even be more comfortable in the noise and anonymity of the Pink Triangle. In the Ladies’ Room, women would talk, tell their stories, maybe even expose their souls. As she stood outside the open door, she could hear Judy and Kathleen inside, greeting their new friends; Pookie felt…well…naked.

  A shorthaired woman wearing a Texas Tech t-shirt and faded jeans stepped out the door and smiled warmly.

  “Get on in here, Pookie.” The woman extended her hands, taking the platter of jalapenos with one and grasping Pookie’s right hand in a firm handshake with the other. “I’m April Sims. Judy and Kathleen have told us a lot about you.”

  “Good, I hope.”

  April laughed. “I’d tell you, but it might give you a big head.”

  Pookie returned the handshake warmly, feeling still naked but a lot safer in being so. She stepped inside.

  The room was warm, in more ways than one. A window unit air conditioner cranked away in the tiny kitchen area, but it was taxed to keep up with the combined heat of a roomful of animated women, laughing and talking in a cacophony of sound. Pookie scanned the room, and she liked what she saw. It felt safe here, warm, like…like a hearth where she could take refuge. There were grey-haired women, young women, bold butches, and flashy fems, a whole variety of women, and they all belonged. It showed in the ease with which they talked and the relative lack of personal space with women leaning close to each other, striving to hear their individual conversations over the din of sound. There was even one man, looking more like a church deacon than a gay guy, and Pookie felt certain the woman beside him, a hand softly on his forearm, had to be his wife. The women around them seemed perfectly at ease with the couple, and the complexity of the situation momentarily confused Pookie.

  Pookie didn’t complete her scan of the room. It ended abruptly when her gaze fell on one woman, a girl really, with auburn hair and green eyes and a gentle way of moving her hands as she spoke to an older woman dressed in a softball jersey. The girl looked up and their gazes locked like machine parts finding home when the right piece fit with the right piece. Pookie was oblivious to the wordless message between Judy and Kathleen, shared eye contact alone expressing their joint awareness of Pookie’s focus on the auburn-haired girl.

  “Come on, Pook,” Judy said, placing a hand on Pookie’s elbow and gently guiding her. “April starts the discussion right at seven. Let’s find our seats.”

  Judy and Kathleen performed a subtle dance, positioning themselves to seats on a couch, one where there was only room for them. Pookie barely noticed. The auburn-haired girl had finally dropped her gaze, but Pookie still stared, totally fascinated.

  “The younger ones usually sit on the floor,” Kathleen explained to Pookie, gently pushing on Pookie’s shoulders and guiding her to a seat in front of them. The older, straight couple moved to two chairs beside the couch, and Pookie thought her heart might burst right out of her chest as the auburn-haired girl moved to take a seat on the floor in front of them, a place just inches from where Pookie now sat.

  Judy leaned forward, speaking to the two young girls. “Pookie, I want you to meet Terry. Terry, this is our dear, young friend, Pookie.”

  The girl looked shyly toward her own shoes, pulling her knees up under her chin and wrapping her arms around her legs. She blushed. In that instant, Pookie wanted nothing more than to put this shy young woman at ease. She extended her hand and smiled her most charming smile.

  “Hello, Terry. I’m really, really glad to meet you.”

  The girl blushed more, but she raised her eyes to gaze directly at Pookie. Pookie was afraid she might drown in the deep, sea green color of those eyes.

  “Happy to meet you,” the girl said.

  From across the room, April started clanking a butter knife against a glass. The noise dwindled.

  “All right ladies, oh, and you, Mr. Jones. You all know the drill. It’s time for our group discussion,” April said.

  “She would have made a fine drill sergeant, don’t you think?” an older woman said, ending her statement with a playful wink.

  A beautiful Latina sitting in the chair beside April took April’s hand and leaned toward April. “I love it when she tries to command me,” the woman said.

  April raised her eyebrows in a Groucho Marx expression. “And I love the way she says ‘no,’” she announced to the room at large.

  Kathleen leaned toward Pookie, whispering in her ear. “That’s April and Sophia, the ones we’ll stay with tonight.”

  Pookie managed to pull her awareness away from the girl long enough to actually look at and see her hostesses. She nodded understanding toward Kathleen.

  “Tonight’s going to be a little different, if no one objects,” April said. “We have special guests. I think most of you remember Alfred and Martha Jones, co-presidents of the local PFLAG organization.” The older couple sitting near them waved shyly at the group, and the women smiled or waved in return. The man cleared his throat and took a deep breath before speaking.

  “You may know that we’ve been meeting with the Amber Superintendent of Schools off and on for over a year now. He’s still not ready to make the Gay-Straight Alliance an official organization at the school, but he has agreed to let us coordinate some awareness training for teachers.”

  Martha Jones leaned forward and gently stroked the auburn hair of the young girl sitting in front of her. “If we can help it, we don’t want anyone else to go through what Terry or her Marilyn went through.”

  Tears appeared in Terry’s eyes. Without any conscious decision to do so, Pookie reached over and took the girl’s hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. The green gaze turned directly toward Pookie. Pookie couldn’t breathe. In that moment, she believed she would never see anything more beautiful nor more hea
rtbreaking than those tear-filled eyes. To Pookie’s amazement, Terry returned the squeeze and continued to hold onto Pookie’s hand. Pookie left her hand resting warmly in the tentative embrace.

  Alfred Jones picked up the narrative. “Anyway, Martha and I can help coordinate sensitivity training for the teachers, but it’s not our stories to tell. We need help from some of you.”

  A stout woman in a Cowboys football t-shirt spoke. “Heck, I retired last year after coaching softball and basketball and teaching science at West Side High School for thirty years. I’ll talk to them.”

  “That’s awesome, Mo,” April said. “Alfred, Martha, you know Sophia and I will help all we can.”

  “April, we were rather hoping you’d kind of organize and spearhead who will do the talking and what they need to say,” Alfred confessed.

  “Drill sergeant…I told you. She’d make an awesome drill sergeant,” the older woman said.

  April gave the woman a sly smile. “Quit picking on me, Tandy. You’re the one who drafted me to organize the Ladies’ Room in the first place.”

  “And a fine job you’ve done, old friend. A fine job.”

  “I’ll do it,” a soft voice said. The room went quiet and everyone looked at Terry.

  Martha stroked the girl’s hair once again. “I know it’s painful, honey. You don’t have to.”

  Terry sat up straight, her soft voice still quiet but strong. “I’m the one who was kicked out on the streets when I was sixteen. I’m the one who…whose lover hung herself because of the persecution. These teachers need to know. They need to see the price of prejudice in school and church and home.”

  “Damn,” Pookie whispered to herself. She wished with all her heart she were a time traveling Wonder Woman, someone who could zip back to the past and protect this girl, this person who was already precious to her.

  Talk continued, but Pookie didn’t hear much. Somehow, she and Terry shifted positions on the floor. They didn’t touch nor embrace, but Terry was close enough for Pookie to feel the warmth of her, even to catch a whiff of her perfume. It was an agonizing heaven, one that befuddled her brain and made her unable to follow the group conversation. She barely had enough presence of mind to collect herself and say, “thanks for the welcome” when she realized she was being introduced. When the discussion ended, and everyone headed for the potluck dinner, Pookie stood, still close and facing Terry.

  “I’m…I’m so sorry about…about what happened to you and to…”

  “To Marilyn,” Terry said.

  “Was that your lover?”

  “Yes. We both went to the same church…Alfred and Martha were there too. There was this nasty, nasty preacher. He hated gays.”

  “Such a fine Christian attitude.”

  “Especially since it turned out he was a pedophile too.” Terry looked across the room toward where April and Sophia were filling their plates. “Thanks to April, he got caught. He’s in jail now.”

  Pookie looked toward April, seeing the woman in a new way. “Bet he was sorry he messed with the drill sergeant.”

  Terry laughed. “How did you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Make me laugh.”

  “Just a knack I guess. Life’s funny, even when it’s not. Know what I mean?”

  Terry looked at Pookie quizzically. “Not yet, but I’d sure like a chance to figure it out.”

  Pookie interpreted Terry as saying she wanted to get to know Pookie better. The joy shone on Pookie’s face as she responded. “I’ll be happy to teach you what little I know about life and laughter and stuff.”

  “You’re the one from Colorado who came to live with Judy and Kathleen, right?”

  “Yep. I got kicked out too, but no streets for me. Straight from city to ranch, and I love it.”

  Terry looked at Pookie’s now blue hair, a break from the former purple, and piercings then toward Judy’s cowboy boots and blue jeans.

  “You and Judy get along?” Terry asked.

  “She’s the best, along with Kathleen.”

  “I always thought Judy looked a little like…well…”

  “A redneck?”

  “Yes.”

  “Looks can be deceiving.” Pookie raised her five foot, one inch frame to its full height. “Bet you’d never guess I’m a genuine cowhand now.”

  Terry tilted her head, studying Pookie. “No, not at all. I can tell it’s going to be a lot of fun getting to know you.”

  “The feeling is very, very mutual.”

  aaAA

  Inside, the cacophony of conversation and laughter had returned to the pre-formal meeting decibel level. The crowd descended like a starving horde on the table holding the usual fine food of a lesbian potluck. With full plates, they settled throughout the room to eat, talk, and laugh. After filling their own plates, Pookie and Terry found their way outside to the relative privacy of the wooden, exterior stairs. They shared a step for their seat and used a higher step as their table. For Pookie, it felt like an oasis, a small bubble of semi-quiet between the noise of the Ladies’ Room and the deep rumble of DJ music from the bar below. It felt intimate.

  “How long will you be staying with Kathleen and Judy?” Terry asked.

  “No plans beyond tomorrow,” Pookie answered. “But it will be a few months at least. Judy and I are doing a sculpture for the Coldwater community center.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No joke, but some people might think it is. You see, it’s…well, it’s kind of in honor of prairie coal.”

  “Prairie coal?” Terry asked, her faced tilted to one side in the universal gesture of curiosity.

  “Buffalo and cow shit.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah. The first evening I arrived, Judy was telling me about manure being the only fuel early settlers had for their fires. The Colt Peacemaker may have settled the West, but it was shit that warmed it, at least on the prairie.”

  Terry dropped her fork in her plate and sat with her mouth open in surprise. “Geeze, I work at the High Plains Museum at the university and I never, ever wondered about what people used for fire fuel on the treeless plains.”

  “Was kind of a surprised to me too, but it gave me an idea.” Pookie sighed in mild frustration. “If I’d known I’d meet you and we’d be talking about my project, I would have brought my art pad with the conceptual drawings.”

  “Describe it.”

  “It starts with a buffalo, then a Longhorn, and ends in a Hereford, each of them tied together by a trail of fire…not real fire, you know…a sculpture of fire.”

  “Sounds ambitious, and the fire should be a lot more…attractive…than a trail of poop.”

  “We’ll build the basic shapes of the animals from scrap metal and chicken wire. Judy’s teaching me to weld, then we’ll finish out with adobe, plaster, and paint. Still working on exactly how I’ll do the trail of fire.”

  “Wow, Pookie. You’re a real artist.”

  The bite of potato salad on Pookie’s fork paused halfway to her mouth. Her eyes focused into a distance of time rather than space.

  “My dad was the artist.”

  “Was?”

  “Yeah…he died in a car wreck when I was eleven.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “I miss him, but it would have been an even greater tragedy if he’d never been my dad at all.”

  “I envy you.”

  Pookie was surprised. “What?”

  “Sounds like your dad would have done anything for you.”

  “He would have and me for him.” Pookie remembered the bit of food she still held mid-air and placed it in her mouth.

  Terry pushed the food around on her plate. “My parents threw me out of the house when they found out I was a lesbian.” Terry looked up the stairs toward the closed door of the Ladies’ Room. “The women here, they saved me. I lived with Mo and went to her high school until I graduated. She even got me the job at the museum and helped me get a grant so I could go
to college. Others helped me out too, and April…geeze…April’s the one who stopped the bastard minister who told my parents they had to kick me out or go to hell.”

  “Oh, Terry. I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

  “I’m not. Being gay saved me. It saved me from being some passive little Christian lady, constantly afraid of living, afraid of hell and damnation.”

  “You go girl.”

  “Pookie.”

  “Yeah?”

  “What did you mean when you said ‘life’s funny even when it’s not’?”

  Pookie laughed softly. “Geeze, how do I explain?” She looked at the night sky, gathering her thoughts. “Dad always said that life’s easier if you look for the things that make you smile more than the things that make you sad or mad. You know what he put in his will for Mom and me?”

  “What?”

  “A knock, knock joke.”

  “How’s that?”

  Pookie smiled. “Knock, knock.”

  “Who’s there?”

  “Me, always looking after my two best girls.”

  Tears appeared in Terry’s eyes, and her hand covered her mouth. “That’s absolutely beautiful.”

  “I imagine when he wrote it, he hoped we’d never read it, but I’m glad he wrote it. I still have it, pressed in my sketchbook.”

  “So that’s what you meant about life being funny even when it’s not?”

  Pookie shook her head. “Not totally. Sometimes life isn’t ha ha funny, but it’s always funny as in odd, unpredictable, a mystery we’ll never totally solve.”

  “I think I see that.”

  “When life gets tough, it’s easier for me if I focus on the mystery more than any pain or sadness or anger. Do you see what I mean?”

  “I think so.” Terry smiled a sweet smile, a tender smile. She reached up and pushed a tendril of Pookie’s blue hair away from Pookie’s eyes. “You’re a very special person, Pookie.”