Thelma could barely breathe. There she was, in the Impala, maneuvering through a thick fog as she did her best to get to the market before it closed.Robbie is sick…Debbie was waiting for her. Bill assumed she would be back within twenty minutes, and for a change, he’d have dinner on the table for all of them.
Thelma closed her eyes. She saw her husband standing behind the kids at the dining table, checking his watch and sweating when Thelma wasn’t home half an hour later.I was already gone…Already taken in by the FBI. Already sweating for her life and begging for a chance for it to all be a dream.
“Hey.” Gretchen cut through her sudden thoughts. “You wanna dance?”
She didn’t wait for an answer. She took Thelma’s hand and, leaving their melted ice behind, led her to the edge of the dancefloor with the other celebrants.
“Did you know that Willie wrote for Patsy Cline?” Thelma prattled as she attempted to enjoy her first dance with Gretchen.Why am I so nervous?Because of the song? Because they were two women dancing in public? “He wroteWalkin’ After Midnight.He wrote for a lot of artists.”
“That so?” Gretchen had her hand wrapped around Thelma’s midsection and held her other as they slowly made their way to the center of the dancefloor. Beside them, the other happy couple laughed as one tripped over the other’s foot. “Who knew?”
Gretchen wasn’t interested in trivia. She wanted to hold Thelma close enough to kiss her cheek and then twirl her fast enough that her skirt spun. Yet Thelma was forever entrenched in the memory that came with the familiar lyrics, no longer sung by the Platters, but just as raw and visceral as they had been when she attempted to drive out into the night several months ago.
Who else has sung this damn song since then!
“I’ve actually never done something like this before,” Gretchen whispered in Thelma’s ear, distracting her. “Danced with a girl in front of other people. Is anyone looking at us?”
Thelma glanced around, but people only had eyes for each other or the couple celebrating their anniversary. “I don’t think so.” When she realized that as well, she loosened up a little, taking the song as a sign from God. Maybe it wasn’t a warning. Maybe it was a sign that Thelma was on the path she was meant to traverse. “You know, I’ve had more fun on this trip so far than either time I came with my husband.”
“I should be ecstatic that I’m outperforming your late husband, but do we have to talk about him right now?”
Thelma stepped back into a twirl. “I see what you mean. I should live in the moment, shouldn’t I?”
“That’s what the rest of us are doing.”
When she put it that way, Thelma had no choice but to fling herself into Gretchen’s arms and enjoy the slow country beat of a more modern rendition of “Twilight Time.”Between the soft bass, steady background guitar, and Willie Nelson’s hauntingly present voice, Thelma closed her eyes and didn’t think one iota about who she was, where she found herself, or what she had been through that past year.
There was only her and the one who was stealing her heart.
Is this what it’s like to fall in love again? So soon?No. She shouldn’t contemplate it. She should touch Gretchen’s shoulders, brush her knuckles against those cheeks, and gaze into sweet brown eyes that reminded Thelma of dancing with a woman for the first time.
She no longer heard the music. Only the laughter of other tourists, the striking chords of the pianist at his instrument, and her present moment thundering in her ears.
Carried by blood; carried by her heart.
There was one thing that Gretchen said she had always wanted to do in Vegas before they went on the Ferris wheel.
“Oh, my Lord!” Gone was the sense that God was trying to tell her anything, because Thelma stared down at a crowded stage of half-naked women in sequins and bright, neon feathers. “I can see their nipples!”
“I think that’s the point!” Gretchen yelled over the cheering audience.
Thelma knew that Vegas was now a viper pit of hedonism, but she wasnotexpecting to see women revealing their full bosoms on stage for all to see. Including her, a woman who wasn’t afraid to admit she liked a nice pair in front of her face.Perhaps a bit more intimately would be nice.And such a nice range of types and sizes! Thelma didn’t once feel the burning need to glance down at her own chest and compare notes.
She did steal a glimpse at Gretchen’s chest, though. Not that she could see much beneath a shirt and jacket…
During the finale of the adult show, the women in garish tail feathers and supremely high heels stepped down into the aisles and walked among the audience. When they stopped—posing in time to the pause in music—the audience fell reverently silent until Rosemary Clooney’s iconic voice echoed in the small auditorium.
I’m sorry, Dean, but…She would always give it to the original singer of “Mambo Italiano.” Especially since it fit the mood quite nicely!
The audience cheered again as the performers shook their feathersand their naked breaststo Rosemary’s vocals. The ones closest to the audience handed out glittery ribbons as souvenirs.Many happy men and smiling women took pieces of ribbon from the dancers’ bouquets as the song wound down and the performers lined up on the stage again.
When the curtain fell, Thelma realized she had been leaning over the armrest and clinging to Gretchen the entire time.
“Ever thought you’d do something like this when you were growing up?” Gretchen asked as Thelma grabbed her purse off the floor.
“Maybe!”She has no idea how many panties I saw at dances in the ‘40s.Including her own. When Thelma said she had once Jitterbugged, shemeant it.“Then again, I don’t think I’ve seen that many breasts at once since a high school locker room. Very different environment.”
Gretchen took her hand as they stood. “I bet. Me, I avoided it as much as possible.”
