Page 100 of For Cowgirls and Kings

I yank at the ribbon, my excitement and inability to turn away a gift getting the better of me. Pulling the lid from the top, I pause, my heart pounding violently in my chest.

Nestled in silver tissue paper is the turquoise squash blossom, the icy blue stones bright against the aged sterling silver Navajo beads and enormous silver blooms. I trace a hesitant finger over the intricate work, feeling like I’m hovering above my body—lost in a dream or dead and somehow magically ended up in Heaven.

Is this real?

My eyes snag on earrings, an enormous cuff and ring—all in the same icy blue stone. It’s the prettiest set of turquoise jewelry a person could dream of owning, the kind that you pass onto your kids and their kids and so on. The kind you don’t get until you’re eighty, sitting on a pile of oil money that just won't spend itself when you make it to the grave.

And he bought it for me.

I drop the lid, picking up my phone and group dial Stetson and Faith. Faith,bless her,picks up in a single ring, where Stetson takes several.

“Hey Dale! What’s up?” Faith asks, her voice a little jumbled.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Stetson chimes in, and I sigh.

“Sorry guys, are you busy?”

“Doesn’t matter if we are Dale. We picked up. You’ve got us and our attention—it’s okay to do that. We chose to answer.” Stetson’s words pelt me, the truth in them both like a knife and a balm to my insecurities. It’s so nonchalant, so obvious.

And yet, I never would have thought of it that way. I’ve always seen myself as an inconvenience. I want to believe her, so I sigh deeply, willing her sentiment to press into my bones.

“She might be busy, but I don’t have much of a life and do, in fact, wait by the phone daily for either of my best friends tocall me.” The weight of Faith’s confession fills the line and I ache to hug her, comfort her.

Stetson clears her throat, always the first to express her discomfort with the touchy feely, and I hope that Faith doesn’t take it as a dismissal. We’re simply a dysfunctional group of friends, riddled with trauma, and use avoidance as our only survival mechanism.

“Dale?” Stetson asks, and I’m reminded of why I called.

“Yeah, sorry. I, uhm, need some advice. Mateo took me to Fort Worth today to do some shopping, and you guys know me, I love to shop. I bought all kinds of shit, mostly because he made me, and even though I feel terribly guilty, I had the feeling that if I said no he’d be disappointed.” I pause, sighing and slump to the bed in front of me. “Honestly, I wanted the stuff. Does that make me selfish? Crazy?”

“How much stuff are we talking about? Anything especially noteworthy?” Faith asks.

“Anything you’d like to share with the poor? My wardrobe is atrocious,” Stetson snickers and I smile, feeling a smidge lighter at their banter.

“Uhm, in the last store alone I bought a single jacket that was six hundred. And?—”

“And?” Stetson prompts.

“And then he proceeded to buy everything I looked at or touched in the store behind my back, the total having to be well into the tens of thousands. Not to mention he bought me a turquoise set that would be enough to buy my house all over again.”

“Shut up!” Faith squeals and Stetson cackles in unison.

“Do I need to return everything? What if I want it all? What does that make us? Will I owe him my soul for eternity?”

“You’re ridiculous. Enjoy being spoiled—fuck if anyone deserves it, it’s you. Plus, I have the feeling that if you returnedstuff, he’d show up at your house with the deed to the entire store. He’s obsessed with you, let him be happy and share that with you.” I nibble my lip, Stetson’s words running through my mind at lightning speed.

He’s obsessed with me?

“Especially if you’re obsessed with him in return…” Faith whispers, and I sit up straighter.

“I’m not sure what I am,” I state, trying to be as honest with them as my frightened ego will allow.

“Although I agree with Faith, I’d say don’t worry about being too serious yet. Have fun Dale. The rest will fall into whatever place it’s supposed to. But first you have to be happy—you have to be healthy, in order for people to come into your life and stay there permanently. You have to be happy before you make room for anyone else.”

When did Stetson get so wise?

“Aren’t you the one who nearly pushed away the man who’s right for you in every way possible because you thought being alone is safer?” Faith teases and I smile. She has a point.

Stetson huffs, “Yeah, and this bitch teased and flirted with him so hard I contemplated strangling her at one point. Fair is fair Dale. In the end, you told me how it was, called me out, and it was that which helped me see how far up my ass my head was. Consider this your call out; get your man and get your happy ending—it’s right there in front of you if that’s what makes you happy and healthy again. We’re cheering you on, but you have to start cheering for yourself too.”