Bring the Rain Read Free

to impress me, not a lasso.  
    Gina tosses me a look. “Don’t judge until you check him out. You need a distraction if you’re going to survive three months in no-where.”
    She peels right, turning onto another unnamed gravel road. Lights flicker on the horizon and she speeds toward them, whooping into the wind. Gina’s smile is contagious. She’s a firecracker. Usually she’s a fun drunk. But, when she’s angry, she’s the angriest, spiteful drunk I’ve ever encountered. I saw it once last fall and I couldn’t speak to her for weeks. We never apologized, but somehow moved forward in an understanding that we both messed up. The ridiculous thing is that we don’t even remember what we were fighting over.
    “Peter, here we come! This is going to be fun!” Gina yells into the wind. It looks like she’s set to have a good night. My gut relaxes. I didn’t realize I’d been so nervous about drinking with Gina again.
    Country music pumps out of an old white farmhouse as we pull into the yard. As we walk to the front porch, I notice the paint chipping off the spindles. A cowboy hat seems to swallow a blond girl in a love handle hugging dress. We swerve around a sloppy kissing couple on the porch and in through the front door. There’s a bucket with a sign for two dollars and some skinny dude sitting on a stool. I toss in two dollars for a yellow, plastic cup and we are directed toward the keg. I squeeze the thin plastic, the crinkling addicting to my palm as we wait in line. The place smells like cigars, cedar, and booze. This is so far from the Manhattan roof-top bars I sneak into back home.
    Hick house parties, my new social reality.
    I down a cup of watery beer as I weave with Gina through the crowd of cowboy hats and girls in Daisey Dukes and tube tops. My ballet flats, skinny jeans, and loose teal scarf are a small freak show here. Smiling, I wave back at their stares. Lots of cliche cowboy nods with the tip of their hat follow. It’s sort of sweet and I actually giggle. My hand flies over my mouth, silencing it. It’s a fluke. I refuse to believe there’s anything redeeming about this place.
    “Peter,” Gina calls out. A tall guy with a white cowboy hat spins around. Unlike many of the guys here, his teeth are brilliant and white, meeting Gina with a movie-star smile. As he hugs her, I can’t help but notice his hand lingering a little low on her back. Clearly, Gina has read this situation wrong. I step back, giving them space.
    “Remember Autumn?” Gina looks at me and makes much too obvious of a wink.
     “Of course. Welcome home,” he says.
    Home? The implication makes my stomach turn over. “Thanks, nice to see you again.” I say instead. Gina leans in toward him naturally so I redirect the conversation back towards her. “I’m lucky I’ve got Gina to help me reintegrate while I’m here.”
    “Yeah,” he looks back at her and his eyes seem glued to her face. “She’s pretty great.” He reaches out, playfully pulling on one of her red curls.
    Gina holds up her plastic cup, “I’ll cheers to that!” We clunk our cups together and finish them off. Peter offers to get Gina a refill. He strides away to the kitchen with Gina’s eyes plastered to his butt.
    “So hot, right?” Gina says with a squeal once he’s out of sight.
    “Yes, and he’s all yours. He’s totally into you.”
    “You think?”
    “Yes. I know.” I push her forward. “Go. Be merry. Be fruitful. But don’t get pregnant.” She rolls her eyes, whispering thanks as she exits the room.
    I sigh. Finding myself alone at a Podunk house party on my first night here really isn’t my top choice, but at least I have a solid coping strategy. I hand over my cup to the guy at the keg, waving for him to cut it off when it’s three fourths full. Perfect. This is enough to do the trick. I’ve always been an embarrassing lightweight.
     
    *** 
     
    Light arms make for easy dancing, even to drawn out country tunes. Turns