The crowd applauds as Candee Disch curtsies. “Let’s hear it for the iconic Britney Swears!”
Another woman enters from offstage, and I see it now. The rough edge of her square jaw. Her broad shoulders. The stubble beneath her makeup despite her close shave.
This is a drag show.
I sit up straighter in my chair.
My stomach flurries with excitement. For the first time since that night when I sat in the back of Bo’s truck, watching the meteor shower, I feel like my life is happening.
“I’m almost impressed,” says Hannah.
We watch as drag queens every shape and size and color give it their all and leave everything they’ve got on that stage in this dingy little bar out in the middle of West Texas. They all wear sparkling, elaborate costumes with incredible high heels and insane wigs. Each of them is their own brand of beauty. There’s even a duo with a woman cross-dressing as Kenny Rogers for a rendition of “Islands in the Stream.”
My favorite, though, is a short Asian queen named Lee Wei. She wears a baby-blue minidress with sequins so long that every time she moves, she’s a blur of motion. When the spotlight zeros in on her and the song begins, it only takes one note before the whole bar loses it. “Jolene.”
It’s cliché, I know, but if I had to listen to one song for the rest of my life, it would be “Jolene.” Everyone loves it, but I like to think it takes a special kind of heartbreak to really call the song your own. I mean, Dolly Parton—THE Dolly Parton—is singing to some mysterious Jolene who she thinks is more beautiful and more worthy than her, begging her not to take her man. It’s catchy and everyone knows the words, but to me, it’s this reminder that no matter who you are, there will always be someone prettier or smarter or thinner. Perfection is nothing more than a phantom shadow we’re all chasing. If I could sing worth a lick, this would be the song I’d sing for the pageant.
By the end of the song, I’m wiping away tears I didn’t even realize I was shedding.
The four of us leave at the end of the night with this look of wonder plastered to our faces, like we’ve spent the last few hours sitting too close to the TV.
As we’re walking to the van, someone calls to us from the back door. “Hey! Kiddies!”
I turn. It’s the bouncer from earlier. “Y’all go on,” I tell Millie, Hannah, and Amanda. “I’ll be there in a sec.”
The burly man sits on a stool, holding the back door open with his back. “Name’s Dale,” he says. “You enjoy yourself tonight?”
I nod. “I think it’s safe to say that this has been a formative experience in my life.”
“Seems like a fair thing to say about most drag shows.”
I nod back to the van. “My friends had fun, too.”
“Lee!” he calls behind him as he stubs out his cigarette beneath his boot. “Honey!”
Lee Wei, the queen who sang “Jolene,” saunters out the back door. She’s even shorter and somehow rounder without her high heels. She looks from me to the bouncer, and smiles, even though she obviously has no idea who I am.
“You ’member Lucy?” Dale asks. “Used to come around here with Suze Dryver.”
El’s mom. Oh Jesus. I wish El had been here tonight. It’s the only thing that could have made the whole experience even more perfect.
Lee holds her hand to her chest. “Oh, sweet Lucy! Of course I do.” Her voice is deeper than I expect.
“This is her niece,” says Dale.
I nod. “Willowdean.”
Without a moment of hesitation, Lee reaches for my hand. “I am so sorry,” she tells me. “Lucy was a real gem. She had a kind, open heart. We were so sad to see her go.”
“Th-thanks,” I say, and I don’t really know why, but I add, “I’ve been real lost without her. Like, she was this compass I didn’t even know I had.”