If she could see me right now, Aunt Megan would look at me long and hard and ask where her precious niece has gone.
Another note came for me this morning, as I expected.
So how was the game? This is a rhetorical question, of course, since you have no way of answering me. Plus I know they won. You must be a good luck charm or something.
Speaking of luck, how about trying yours?
You can get a taste of home here in California. Kentucky loves horse races, right? I mean, they’ve got the Kentucky Derby, so they have to.
So go down to Santa Anita Park. Place some bets, win some or lose some. Use Josh’s money just in case.
Most importantly, have fun. There’s a bar inside that doesn’t card. Drink responsibly. (But not too responsibly).
Make Josh the designated driver. I don’t want you or anyone else to get hurt.
Naturally, Josh and I are heading to Santa Anita with a pocket full of Josh’s money to watch some horse races. We aren’t going to drink though. Not with the night we have planned.
The reason Aunt Megan is currently turning over in her grave is my apparent need to do whatever a man tells me to do. It occurred to me when I got the letter this morning that it could tell me to tattoo a penis on my face and run around LA naked and I would do it without hesitation. But is that because a boy told me to, or because I need to take more risks in life?
The hopeless romantic boy driving my car would say I’ve been doing all of this because there’s a chance that I could end up happily married to an amazing guy who takes me on adventures and surprises me every day. The realistic girl sitting in the passenger’s seat says I’m doing it because old Jolene wouldn’t have. The Jolene who lived in Kentucky, worked to pay bills, and wore the same four outfits in different combinations to save money, would not be going to a horse race because a stranger told her to in an anonymous letter. She probably would have called the police as soon as the first letter showed up.
California Jolene isn’t like Kentucky Jolene, though, or so I’ve learned. And I think I like myself better when I don’t play it safe all the time. I of all people should know that you can’t take life for granted because you never know how much time you have left. It’s time I start actually living.
Even though I’m from Kentucky, I’ve never actually been to a horse race. Don’t tell the Unionites because they would be up in a tizzy about it. They’d blame my mom, my aunt, God, and anyone else they can think of. Truthfully I just never had a reason to go. Until today.
Josh pulls off the exit and I immediately know which building is our destination. It’s grand and majestic, the way horse tracks should be. You see them in movies and on TV and immediately associate places like this with rich women in extravagant hats and men in suits smoking cigars and betting on their jockeys. You don’t realize that in real life, that’s exactly what a horse track really looks like.
Josh parks my car and hurries around so he can open my door for me. He and I both know I hate when he does things like this, but since we are at a horse race, I guess I can let him be a gentleman. I loop my arm in his as we walk towards the beautiful building.
Josh needs to use the bathroom, so I take it upon myself to explore. I’m glad everyone is focused on the race that’s going on, because as I step out of the tall archway leading from the betting house to the grandstands, my jaw falls open in awe. The track, the horses, and the people: they’re all so beautiful. I look down at my cheap clothes and realize that I really don’t belong here. Josh belongs here with his money and grace and confidence. I don’t fit in with these people.
I consider telling Josh that this was a mistake and that we should go home, but the newest note weighs heavy in my pocket. California Jolene doesn’t run away from uncomfortable situations. She doesn’t avoid places that she doesn’t belong.
She tips up her chin and does a damn good job pretending that this is exactly where she belongs.
When Josh finds me after his bathroom run, he has soft drinks and a schedule of events in his hands. I take one of the sodas – a coke with no ice, just how I like it – and he scans the crowd.
“What are you looking for?” I ask.
“Just taking in the scenery. Who knew these things actually look like they do on screen.”
I stare at him. “You’ve never been to a horse race?”
He glances at me. “Nope. Haven’t you? You lived in Kentucky way longer than I did.”
“Yeah, but you’re…”
Josh laughs. “I’m what? Rich? So what, Jo. I didn’t realize you became a snob.”
“No that’s not what I meant! You’re just, so, I don’t know. You belong here I guess. Even when we were kids you would have belonged here. You always knew how to carry yourself.”
“You were dealt a difficult hand of cards, Jo. You played the best you could under the circumstances.”
“I don’t want to play anymore,” I say quietly. “I want a new hand.”
“Then it’s up to you. It’s your turn to deal.”
***
“I can’t believe I won three hundred dollars!”
We’re speeding down the highway with all the windows down, enjoying the summer breeze and whatever top 40 hit is on the radio. Josh let me drive home after a lot of begging (and I may have also stolen the keys – but it’s MY car!). He laughs at me as I ride the wind with my left hand and smile like a maniac.
Originally the plan was to bet Josh’s money at the track because he has so much of it. That’s what we did at first, but winning money for someone else isn’t as much fun as winning it for yourself, so I tossed down a ten dollar bill and decided to see what would happen.
What happened was, I won three hundred dollars. I’m not sure how or why, but that’s how it all worked out. Horse racing is so much fun!
I think Josh is going to ban me from ever coming back here. The looks he’s giving me tell me he’s afraid I’m going to become a gambling addict. It’s a possibility, but it wasn’t the gambling part that I loved. Winning money was awesome, but after I got over the initial I Don’t Belong Here fear, I started to break out of my shell and enjoy myself.
“Who are you texting?” I ask when I realize Josh has stopped watching me. It’s not that I mind his attention elsewhere, I’m just a curious person by nature.
He doesn’t respond at first, so I ask again. This time he starts and looks at me. “Oh, it’s just Andre. He wants to know what size dress you wear. I’m trying to figure out why.”
Honestly I can guess why. Andre has seen my closet I’m sure. I have this strange feeling that he’s gone through my room, though I’m not sure why he would. Maybe he’s looking for illegal drugs or something, but he is Josh’s roommate. Out of the two of us, Josh is the one who would be stashing weed under his mattress, not me. I’m too much of a control freak for drugs, even the least hardcore kinds.
Josh’s phone beeps again and he’s transported back into the world of Andre. He laughs, probably at my expense, and then turns his attention back to me. “Andre bought you a dress.”
“Oh really? I thought he was asking my dress size so he could buy me a hat.”
“Whatever, smarty pants. You know I’m not as logical as you are.”
That’s true. When I would make Josh my assistant detective, he always missed the most obvious clues. I wanted more of a Sherlock/Watson vibe, but I mostly got a Velma/Scooby sort of a relationship. It’s fine, I’ve always worked better alone anyway.
“Aren’t you going to ask why he bought you a dress?”
“Nope.”
I put my turn signal on and get off the exit towards Josh’s house. My house. That’s really going to take some getting used to.
“Jolene,” Josh whines. I roll my eyes and turn up the radio. I don’t need to hear Josh tell me that Andre bought me a new dress because he thinks I’m unfit in every way to be friends with Josh. Sometimes I just want to stick out my tongue at Andre and tell him that I knew Josh first, so ha. But I’m not that immature. Mostly. “Fine, I’ll just let him tell you.”
The plan I made in my head was to avoid Andre at all costs and get ready to go to the bar with Josh without ever having to hear about this new dress, but of course that plan is derailed when Andre meets us at the car. He pulls open my door with a huge grin and says, “I bought you a dress!”
So that’s not exactly what I was expecting, but nothing about California has been so far. Why am I even surprised?
“I was out shopping for myself because I needed some new shorts, right? So I came across this great vintage store and I saw this one dress and it just screamed Jolene to me! I texted Josh for your size but the little ass took forever to respond so I just bought them all! You can try them on and I’ll return the ones that don’t fit. You’re going to look so good! Champagne is just perfect for your skin tone!”
I want to tell Andre to shove it, but this is honestly the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. And he complimented me a few times in that short monologue. I can’t very well turn him away when he’s finally being nice to me.
“All right, let’s see this beautiful dress.”
The first rule of fashion is to always trust a gay man’s opinion. Okay, so that might not be an actual rule, but it should be. Andre was right. As soon as I slipped into the correct sized dress, I was transformed into a new, more beautiful, woman.
“What did I tell you?” he says, clapping. “Turn for me, darling.”
I do as I’m told, enjoying the positive attention. Andre is grinning from ear to ear. I look at myself in the mirror and see that my own smile matches his. He meets my eyes in our reflections.
“I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot,” he says. “Sharing you with Josh when you lived in Kentucky was easy. I thought that sharing you with him here would suck. But it really hasn’t. And having you as a roommate doesn’t totally suck.”
“Thanks,” I say. “That means a lot.”
Surely Josh told Andre he has to be nicer to me from now on, but who cares? As long as he follows through, I’m okay with it.
“So what shoes should I wear?” I ask. My measly shoe collection makes Andre frown. He picks up a pair of flats that are the same off white as the new dress and tells me they’re perfect.
“You don’t want anything too fancy,” he explains. “The dress is loud enough as it is.”
Josh knocks on my bedroom door and walks in without an answer. “Hey, are you almost… whoa.”
I laugh. “What do you think?” I twirl for Josh and I probably even giggle a little, who knows. Josh whistles his approval and Andre smiles even wider.
“Thanks again, Andre,” I say as I pick up my purse and head towards the door. “This means a lot to me.”
To my surprise, he crosses the room and pulls me in for a tight bear hug. “You’re welcome, Jolene. Next time you’ll have to come shopping with me. I’ll dress you up any day. You’re beautiful.”
I blush as Josh and I leave the house. I just hope my mystery man is at the bar to see me tonight.