June 3--Waiting

Dana was melting. Literally. Her heavy liquid makeup was beginning to run in rivulets down her face. The black fabric of her clothes beckoned to the Texas sun.

This was a big deal and she wanted to impress the fool out of Bobby Joe. He and his band were sequestered inside the community center, enjoying the A/C unaware that the entire town, save crazy Miss Johnson, were baking in the summer sun waiting to welcome the prodigal son home.

Bobby Joe had been one of the precious few that escaped the tiny farming community. Boys here were expected to take over the reins of their daddies' farms, breaking their backs, breathing in hay chafe and horse sweat. It just wasn't done to up and leave town to follow some fancy dream. But Bobby Joe had done it and now the hypocrites who cursed his leaving were lined up to welcome him back even though they knew he would be leaving again, probably before the last note faded.

Dana had envied Bobby Joe. She wanted desperately to flee this dusty hell. Girls here were molded to become farm wives, obedient and meek. It was never Dana's way. She was too opinionated, too free. Nearing thirty and unwed she was looked upon as an epic failure. So why hadn't she made her break?

Her mama had died when Dana was young and her daddy depended on her to take care of him now that his health was failing. She often felt that she wouldn't be allowed to truly live until the old man was gone. Her wings were clipped regularly in order to keep her grounded in this place. She wanted Bobby Joe and his music to take her away from here if only for a few precious hours.

A rush of cool air and the doors to the center open.