19. Willow

Istumble out of the club and retch in the lot, throwing up whatever I ate before. I want to get away as soon as possible, but my legs are weak and my head is spinning. Instead, I sit down on the curb. Tears and snot stream down my face. It was a slap and I deserve it. I deserve that sting, to feel how much Lola doesn’t need me.

She looked so beautiful and I had been so lucky, so fucking lucky. My entire body shakes with sobs as I suddenly feel a hand on my back. I look up, startled, to see the owner of the club. I wipe my face with my coat and try to stand.

“Sorry, I’ll be going,” I say. “I didn’t mean to cause an issue.”

He looks at me with kind eyes and seems to weigh his next words carefully.

“You’re not causing an issue. I just . . . I know what you saw. But it is a show, and Lola, well, she’s the best there is. They wrote songs about her, you know, the greatest showgirl I have. Well, had.”

“Had?” I ask softly, interest piqued, desperate for any information I can get about her. He considers for a moment longer, then sits down beside me on the curb.

“I know who you are, Ms. Rutherford,” he says matter-of-factly, and I like him for his directness. “I understand the dilemma because I’ve felt it myself. I have businesses all across town and I run in some circles that don’t approve of this place. But you know what—I love it here. This place is my favorite thing that I own. Don’t ask me why. My shrink is working on that shit. But anyway, the point is, people have opinions. But they also still shake my hand. Still like my cash. My friends still hang out with me. My sister rolls her eyes but still loves me. Do you get what I’m saying? Sometimes it is hard to hold onto the things we love because of what others think, but after the dust settles, they adapt. But if you let go of what you love, that shit can be gone. Forever.” He hands me a tissue from his pocket and I wipe my cheek.

“I think the one I love is gone. Forever.”

He stands up beside me slowly. “Nah, she ain’t. Like I said, a showgirl through and through. Lola is the ultimate professional. The show goes on even when her heart is broken, and believe me, it is. She is tough, Lola. She has to be. She had a rough start to life and has had to fight hard for everything she has.”

“And yes, she is leaving,” he says. “Going back to school. Seems like someone has made an impression on her, a good one. One that showed her how to love herself, maybe.”

I nod as Landon starts to walk away. Nothing more is said because nothing more needs to be said. I know what Landon is saying, what he thinks. And as I stare out across the lot, I can’t help but think that he is completely right.

I stand nervously outside my father’s massive office, clutching the hem of my dress. It has been years since I’ve been here and a very long time since we’ve last spoken with anything other than civility. Our relationship is like a fragile glass sculpture, ready to shatter with a single wrong move.

Taking a deep breath, I gather the courage to knock on the towering wooden door. Finally he calls me in, his voice cold and distant.

Stepping into the opulent space, I can’t help but feel out of place. Expensive artwork adorns the walls, while polished mahogany furniture fills the room. My father sits behind an imposing desk, engrossed in paperwork.

I approach him cautiously, fidgeting with my fingers. “Daddy,” I begin hesitantly, trying to keep my emotions in check. “I need your help.”

His gaze darts up from his work, clearly surprised. “What do you need, Willow?”

“I need you to make it all okay, Daddy. I don’t know . . . I don’t know how anymore. I don’t know what to do. Please, please help me.”

My father has longed for me to be the little girl that turned to him for help. He has wanted to be the man I used to put on the pedestal. Maybe it’s my show of emotion, my plea for his help, and my obvious desperation--or maybe it’s because he truly does love me and wants me to be happy. But I see the relief in his face as he nods, looking me straight in the eye. “I will fix it.”

And for the first time in weeks I can finally breathe.

It takes time, patience, and perseverance. My mother was the first obstacle but when Daddy told her that this was going to happen with the voice he usually saved for running his office, she knew better than to do anything other than nod.

It gave her a project at least. Somewhere she could focus her time and her energy. Turning her daughter into the ideal political candidate who was openly homosexual. No easy task, but one that time, money, and tenacity could address. And we had all of those things in ample supply.

Because if I make it in politics, I can make changes that will revolutionise things for women, and for all LGBTQ people.

I don’t contact Lola. Not yet. I need to do this first. I need to be who I am. It’s time for me to own my mistakes and to love myself for the woman I am—a strong, willful, intelligent woman who is also attracted to women.

I’m not sure if Lola will see my campaign announcement. I don’t get the impression she follows politics much, but who knows?

The gay angle isn’t going to be worked in, not as a part of my campaign platform, anyway--but it won’t be hidden, either. Not a secret. I want the question people ask not to be about whether I am gay. Rather, will I do my job well, and represent you as a citizen of this great state? And maybe one day, even the country?

The people will decide.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for gathering here today at the steps of the Justice Department. It is with great pride and excitement that I stand before you to announce my candidacy for representative of this great district. This moment marks a significant milestone in my life, as I embark on my journey to serve and represent the people.” I take a deep breath.

“I am deeply committed to making positive changes within our community by fighting for justice and equality for all. Throughout my career, I have witnessed the struggles faced by many individuals and families who are desperate for change. Today, I pledge to be their voice, their advocate, and their champion.” There is a little cheer from the small crowd in front of me that has gathered. I can see my mother beaming from the side.

“I believe in the power of unity and collaboration. Together, we can create a society where everyone has equal opportunities, regardless of their background or circumstances. We must work toward ensuring affordable healthcare, quality education, and job security for every individual who is striving to build a better future.” My father is mouthing along with me. I can see the pride in his face as I deliver the words as we’ve practiced for the public stage.

Politics will always be his first love and I can see that in following him into that, it has become entirely irrelevant to him that I am gay.

A suitable husband is no longer the goal. A Rutherford in the White House is the goal, whether it is him or me.

“My campaign will focus on transparency, accountability, and integrity. It’s time to restore faith in our political system and to regain the trust of the people we aim to serve. As your representative, I promise to listen to your concerns, engage in open dialogue, and to make decisions that truly reflect the needs and aspirations of our diverse population.”

“I understand that running for office comes with immense responsibility . . .”

And then suddenly I see her. Lola.

She shines like a beacon. Lola is wearing a very conservative dark red Gucci shift dress and heels. The whole ensemble looks like it could have come from my own wardrobe. Her dark hair is glossy and immaculate, and swept neatly into an updo. Her makeup is understated. Lola looks classy, like a grown up version of the Lola I knew. Surprisingly, it suits her. Lola looks as beautiful as ever.

She is looking up at me, listening to me, with her navy blue eyes sparkling. I want to jump off the podium and straight into her arms.

“Finish your speech first,” she mouths, and I continue speaking as though nothing has happened. If there is one thing I have learned from Lola, it is that the show must go on. Nodding to her, I feel renewed energy as I storm through my closing statement, delivering it with the hope and optimism for a future that I feel deep within me as Lola looks up at me. My beautiful Lola, who is so many things, but never a showgirl to me.