“Anyway, the damn lump got me thinking about my mortality. I ain’t the spring chicken I once was, though I’ve still got it where it counts.” She performed a rather impressive belly roll, proving her costume wasn’t just for show. “I started realizing I wanted to solidify the things that mattered to me, keep them close. I wanted some way to cement my relationships. That’s why I asked you to marry me, Hortencia. I mean, domestic partnership’s fine and all that, but I wanted it on paper if we need to be there for each other in a medical crisis, or, or… whatever might come. And damn it, woman, I just wanted the world to know you’re the love of my life!”
Hortencia looked ready to cry. Her soft brown eyes were awash with sentiment. She clutched Pauline’s hand, the cuffs forgotten.
“And, Bliss?” Pauline glanced over to her niece, her own sharp brown eyes damp. “I’m sorry I tricked you, kiddo. I just… I just wanted my darling niece by my side, and I wanted you to have the same chance I had to flourish in this magical place, the way you deserve. You’re so talented, and you’ve had such a rough lot. Not too many women could handle everything you’ve faced with such panache.” Unsaid but clearly telegraphed were the things Pauline left out—the death of Sera’s parents, her struggles with addiction, Blake Austin, and all the fallout from her decimated career.
Sera appreciated her aunt’s unusual discretion, even as her heart melted to see her so open and vulnerable. She’d never loved Pauline Wilde more, and that was saying a lot. She blew Pauline a kiss, telling her without words that all was forgiven.
“Anyhow, so that’s why I did what I did. I lied to my only niece and I hurt the woman I love. And I’m sorry, both of you. I’ll admit I freaked out when you said no, Hortencia. I shouldn’t have dumped you just for refusing my proposal. I still don’t know why you did, though. I know it can’t be about my technique in the boo-dwahhhr…” she ventured, tendering up an uncertain grin and giving her hips a swirl that set her scarves fluttering.
The chants of Burn him! Burn him! began again, rolling across the field. The sky was completely dark now, and the crowd’s lighters, flashlights, and glow sticks competed with the floodlights illuminating Old Man Gloom up on the stage. In the center of their own little assembly, Hortencia sighed. “If you’re finished taking a bow over your prowess in the bedroom, Pauline, I’ll tell you.” She turned so she was facing her lover squarely, and the BRBs leaned in to listen. It was getting harder and harder for their little circle to maintain solidarity as the restive gathering of thousands surged and shifted, awaiting the main event. But Sera, enchanted as she was by the festival, was more interested by far in seeing her aunt’s relationship mended.
“What first attracted me to you, Pauline, was how comfortable you were with yourself, how free you were in every possible way. And freedom was just what I needed. You know I was married—for years and years. Forty of them, to be exact. And when Carlos and I split four years ago, that was the first time in my entire life I’d gotten to do exactly what I wanted. Watch the damn dog show instead of football on Thanksgiving. Eat at a new restaurant every night of the week, instead of recycling the same menu of enchiladas, calabacitas, and his mom’s awful carne asada over and over. And for the first time in my life, I got to acknowledge that I loved women, not men. Do you know how liberating that was?” Hortencia challenged. “Of course you don’t. You crawled out of your cradle liberated. You flew from lover to lover like a hummingbird pollinating flowerbeds, and never looked back. But I… well, I came from a very traditional Catholic home. I married at twenty. I kept the house. I gave my husband three beautiful kids. And I waited until they had kids before I took back my life and claimed my freedom. That’s why I never wanted to move in with you, Pauline. I loved having a space that was all my own. So when you asked me to marry you, I just… I don’t know. It wasn’t that I wasn’t sure about you, and it wasn’t some lingering desire for a heterosexual relationship. I just saw the walls closing in on me again, and I panicked. I’m sorry. And I’m sorry I tossed that perfectly lovely ring over the side of the balloon.”
Pauline waved that away, as though diamonds plummeting out of hot air balloons were the least interesting thing in the world. She pushed her sombrero back off her head, letting it dangle down her back from its leather cord. Tears were streaming freely down her lined cheeks, but she looked radiant, her own personal gloom utterly banished.
“Oh, Horsey…” She trailed off.
Hortencia drew their clasped hands to her breast. “Pauline, if you still want to get married… I mean, if you’ll still have me, well, I’d…” She choked up.
Again, Pauline waved impatiently. “Hortencia, you beautiful old bird,” she declared, taking her beloved’s cheeks in her hands and gazing fondly into her brimming blue eyes, “I don’t care if we live in sin forever, as long as I’m with you.” The two women kissed.
And kissed.
And kissed.
“Yay, living in sin!” howled the Back Room Babes, erupting in applause. Those nearby in the crowd paused in their pyromaniac chanting to clap along with them.
It broke the spell, forcing Hortencia and Pauline to finally come up for air.
“Oh, my. Ladies, we better hurry up. The burning’s about to start, and we don’t want to leave anyone out. It’s your turn, dear,” Hortencia prompted Sera. “Tell us what’s been holding you back, and how you plan to change it. It’s quite liberating.”
“Yeah, kiddo,” urged Pauline. “Give it up to Zozobra, let it all go into the fire!” The crowd seemed to agree, the frenzy of shouting and dancing kindling the night.
Both older women were grinning blindingly. But Sera’s own smile fell away. She could feel all the eyes of the Back Room Babes on her as if they were literally pressed to her skin. She knew very well what her worst hang-up was, and she very much wanted to keep it to herself. The women were opening their circle for Sera, smiling and gesturing for her to take center stage. When her feet wouldn’t move, Pauline and Hortencia came to her, taking her rubbery arms and drawing her into the circle in their place.
Maybe I should just talk about the alcohol, she thought desperately. It’s certainly done a number on my life. But in her heart, Sera knew booze was a demon she’d already exorcised. The addiction would always be a part of her biology, but it no longer directed her behavior, and so long as she maintained her sobriety, it wasn’t a source of shame. Her real problem was—and as mortifying as it was for Sera, it would simply devastate her aunt. I can’t do this, I can’t do this… it would kill Pauline if she knew… She opened her mouth to mumble some platitude about trying harder to meet a nice guy, or making more time for her social life.
Instead, to her utter horror, the truth flew out.
“I can’t have an orgasm.”
A howl erupted from the hysterical crowd.
Fireworks shot into the night sky, detonating with deafening booms.
And with a great roar and a whoosh, Zozobra burst into flames.
Chapter Eleven
For as long as she lived, Serafina would never be able to say exactly how she made it from the field where Zozobra had gone up in smoke, along with the last remnants of her dignity, to the citywide celebration that was toasting his fiery demise. One minute she was in the center of a circle of gaping, dismayed women; the next, she was spilling onto Lincoln Avenue at the entrance to Santa Fe’s historic plaza, swept along on a tide of happy, party-hungry Fe-heads ready to get their fiesta on.