First Love (2 page)

Her Roper boots felt heavy, like they had been dipped in honey and stuck to the hot, tarred surface. How people lived in this swamp amazed her. “Maybe that’s why the university’s mascot is an alligator.” She chuckled. “You gotta have skin that’s wrinkled and tough.”

*

Drew needed to get settled and wash off three days of travel. Tomorrow, she would deal with financial aid, but now she needed to feel clean and get some sleep. The map sent by housing helped her to locate her apartment complex.

The apartments were designed for graduate level students and had two or three bedroom suites and a common living area. Drew was glad she only had one roommate. It was costing a little more, but she hoped that would make it easier to study. She chose the bedroom and study area at the front of the apartment. “If my roomie wants to cook, she can do it and I can sleep.”

Unpacking was quick and efficient. Jeans, shirts, shorts, tennis shoes, and boots. Her only personal effects were her ropes and some books. As she took off her boots, she remembered that she still had two more rodeos. One of them was the national finals.

The next twenty minutes were heaven as she stood in a cool shower rinsing off the layers of sweat and grime.

She pulled on shorts and a T-shirt and climbed into bed. She had driven straight through from New Orleans and was tired. Of heat, humidity, and people.
Maybe Florida will grow on me
. “Yeah, like mold,” she added as she fell into deep slumber.

*

At first, it was the subtle change in the quiet. Someone moving around in the apartment. Curiosity pulled Drew from a restful sleep. She turned on the lamp and reached for her watch. It was eight thirty at night.
Those
loud sounds better be my new roommate
.

Opening the door from her sparsely decorated bedroom, she was greeted with boxes, clothes, and books strewn across the living area.
Jeezus! There isn’t much left uncluttered around here.

Potted flowers filled the coffee table. Clothes, mostly pants and shirts, were tossed across the couch, dining room chairs, and table. Bags of food cluttered the kitchen.
Maybe there’s more than one roommate moving in.

“Who are you?” she asked the tall, attractive young man carrying still more bags of groceries.

“I’m Mark Garcia and I live here. Who are you?”

“I’m AnDrew Hamilton and I live here,” she answered. She grabbed two of the bags and put them on the counter before sticking out her hand.

He stared back at her. A diamond chip glittered from one ear, breaking light into small rainbows of color. A deep cleft in his chin added to his obvious charm and good looks. The olive complexion paled. “When I got the letter that said my suitemate would be AnDrew Hamilton, I thought it was a guy.”

“Apparently, housing did too. Even though I indicated my gender on the application, housing must have thought I made a mistake. I must admit, I didn’t know any females named Mark, but, hell, I’m from Wyoming.” Drew watched the expression change on Mark’s face from surprise to wonder to horror. He sat down, placed his groceries on the table, and turned much paler, a feat, given his dark complexion.

Drew liked this guy, and based on the rainbow triangle on his T-shirt, she was sure they would get along. “Oh, my,” he said. He stared a little longer and then repeated himself, this time with more emphasis. “Oh, my!”

“We’ll get along just fine,” she replied. She picked up one of Mark’s paperback books. “I see you have almost all of Armistad Maupin’s books. Unfortunately, I’ve only read the first three, but I loved them.”

He looked at Drew, carefully studying her expression. Drew grinned and nodded. Mark’s face lit up as he hurried over to hug her. “Well, sister, I do believe we will get along just fine.”

She changed into more comfortable clothes, then unpacked, stacked, and sorted for two hours. “Damn, you have more clothes than my whole family put together,” she said. “Did you leave anything at home?”

“My boyfriend David is coming up soon, and he’ll take back the summer clothes.” Drew shook her head, unable to imagine summer ever going away. “Can’t wear white after Labor Day.”

Drew laughed. “That’s not a problem for me. I don’t have anything white except a pair of tennis shoes and a dress shirt. We’ll get along fine.”

“I barely survived last year with the roommate from hell, straight guy who insisted on telling racist, sexist, and homophobic jokes, even after I repeatedly asked him not to. Whenever we were in class together or around others, he would call me Mary or tell fag jokes loud enough for me to hear.”

“What a jerk!” Drew said. “I would have made him a castrato.” Drew paused as she cleared the table. “Did he know you were gay?”

“I don’t think it mattered. He’s just an asshole.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what it was like. Where I live I guess it’s a lot harder to figure out who is and isn’t gay.”

Mark looked at what Drew was wearing. “Oh, my, don’t tell me you always dress like that?” Drew had thrown on the clothes she had been wearing when she arrived in Gainesville. “Where are you from? Texas?”

“What’s wrong with my clothes?” She looked at her dusty boots and quickly wiped off the tips on the back of her jeans. Her shirt, green and white checked, definitely looked slept in. The smell probably wasn’t much better, but she wasn’t going to try the sniff test to confirm it.

“Well, your clothes are not typical in this college town.”

“It’s all I brought and all I own.”

“Where
are
you from?”

“Wyoming, my friend.” Drew grinned. “And this is everyday wear.”

“Wyoming! Do you have electricity? Do you ride?”

Drew flashed a mischievous smile. “Well, yeah, and we even have indoor plumbing. Of course, the ranch house is built on three levels with doors on each level. As the snow gets deeper during the winter, we just go upstairs to get out of the house. Otherwise, we’d be stuck inside for four to six months.”

Mark’s eyes grew large and then he began to laugh. “I almost believed you. You really live on a ranch?”

“All my life. My parents are the fourth generation to live and work our ranch. My brothers, sister, and I all grew up riding, roping, and working. That’s how ranching families survive.”

“You’re a real cowgirl!”

Drew smiled. “I can’t imagine any other life. When I’m working on fences or putting up hay, I’m the happiest. I get busy, and suddenly, it’s the end of the day.”

“Are you planning on ranching after medical school?”

“Absolutely. I want a small ranch of my own, hopefully, near my folks. Find a wife, have a couple of kids. But not before I finish medical school and my residency.”

“Suppose you meet someone here?”

“No way. Nice to look at, maybe date, but not serious. I’m a pragmatist. Not everyone is designed for ranching, and I want someone who won’t mind that type of life. How about you and your boyfriend?”

“David and I made an agreement. He’s an investment banker and loves what he does, but wants to have time to paint. He’s supporting me until I’m thirty, and then I’ll support him for the next twenty years, and then we’ll both retire and travel.”

“Wow! You two have things well planned out. Are your families in Miami?”

“David’s family’s just about disowned him and rarely see him unless he makes the effort. And they all live in Miami. My family, however, loves him and is very accepting.”

“I’ve been lucky. My family already guessed before I told them. They told me anyone I wanted to bring home they would love.” She shook her head. “I asked them how they knew, and you know what they said?”

Mark shook his head.

“You always wanted to follow your brothers around, and your sister didn’t like playing with you.” Drew looked at Mark and grinned. “Must have been riding the wild horses and bulls that gave it away.”

“Geez, girlfriend. You ride bulls? How butch! Are you pulling my leg again?”

“My family wishes I would’ve tried something safer, but I wanted to keep up with my two brothers. Why don’t you come out and visit? I’ll teach you to ride bulls.”

Mark looked aghast. “I prefer the two-legged kind, thank you.” He jumped up and went to the refrigerator.

Drew laughed. “Hmm, what do you mean?” she asked in her most naïve voice.

“Let’s change the topic. Here, have some ice cream.” He set a bowl in front of her. “So the family knows you’re gay?”

“Good save.” She still chuckled at his obvious discomfort. “They’ve known since I was fifteen and had my first crush on a girl.” Drew grew quiet. “I look back now and wonder how could I not know. My family often says, ‘Drew, for someone with your IQ, you sure can be dense about anything that doesn’t involve horses or rodeos.”

“So, you’re a first year?”

“Nope, finished my first year at the University of Wyoming. So this is my second year. It’s part of a program for western states without medical schools. Most folks go to University of Washington. I’m the first second year accepted here. Dean says I’m an experiment so I have to do really well.”

“Life must be very different in Wyoming.”

“It can be.” Drew stood and stretched. “I need to get some sleep. Got to go to financial aid in the morning.”

“You applying for a loan?” Mark asked.

“Only as a last resort. I’m looking for a part-time job. I’ve got tuition and housing taken care of. I’m trying to not be deep in debt when I’m done.”

“Me, too. David is a life saver.”

“Guess investment banking pays.”

“He works in international banking and makes more than I will make. We’ll have some loans to pay off, but we have a plan.”

“Sounds like your life is well-planned. Oh, well, I guess I’ll just rodeo.” Drew laughed at the stunned expression on Mark’s face. Life in the swamp was going to be survivable.

Jordan Thompson offered more tea to her guests. Sitting around her were ten former elementary school classmates. These few people had remained a part of her life even after her father was first elected governor of Ohio and the family had moved to Columbus. For Jordan, this was a time to reconnect with her past. Her parents, however, saw this reunion as political goodwill. After all, Ohio had put her father in the White House.

By the time her family moved into the White House, the tradition was established. The National Republican Committee picked up the cost. It was an opportunity to emphasize the president’s family values. Jordan may have wanted a visit with friends, but that wasn’t possible. She was the First Daughter and that was a very specific role. It wasn’t just her parents that made the expectations known, but also the various aides, assistants, and social coordinators who kept the First Family’s schedule.

Lately, however, she felt a chasm growing between her childhood and her life. Her father’s political activities had introduced her to a world of celebrities, events, and ideas. There were even times when she silently questioned some of her parents’ beliefs and values, though she never voiced her doubts out loud. She preferred getting along to conflict. As a result, Jordan often wondered if anyone would know who she was if it weren’t for others telling her how to behave, when to smile, how to dress, and whom to be polite to.

Someone was talking to her. She tried to focus on the conversation.

“Jordie, what are you going to do when you finish college?” Mary Lou Bates asked. She and Mary Lou had been best friends from fourth through ninth grade. “Are you interested in politics yet?” Mary Lou married the month after high school graduation and was pregnant already. Their lives had gone in very different directions.

“No way. I just want to be a good engineer and work for a while. Like my mom. I’ll leave politics to those with egos stronger than mine. Besides, some people have to be voters.”

“I can’t imagine not having a Thompson campaigning in Ohio,” Russell Baker said. “Seems like we were always campaigning for your dad.” Russell had been an active Young Republican and a good friend.

“I guess we’ll have to wait for you, Russ,” Jordan answered to more laughter.

“If I can’t convince you to marry me, Jordan, then I must get your parents to adopt me. That will give me four more votes.”

“You’re assuming you can convince Jordan to vote for you,” her father, President Harold Thompson, said. “I’m not sure she’ll vote for me in the next election.” Her parents’ arrival was not unexpected, nor was their warm teasing. “You, however, may be more successful winning her vote.” Everyone stood to greet her parents. They walked around the room, hugging and welcoming their old friends and encouraging them to sit as they joined the group.

Marcia Thompson, perched on the arm of Jordan’s chair, gently played with Jordan’s hair. “Jordan always has been independent,” her mother added. “I’m not sure where she got that from.”

Her father smiled. “I have no idea, my dear. My daughter is my most difficult critic.”

Jordan rolled her eyes and then smiled at her distinguished looking father. This familiar teasing resulted from Jordan once asking her dad why he didn’t support busing. At age six, Jordan assumed lack of busing meant children would have to walk to school. Her father listened carefully and then, in an equally serious voice, explained the busing issue. While she had not always agreed with everything her parents stood for, she had supported them unconditionally.

“It’s always wonderful to see everyone again. I’m sorry the First Lady and I can’t stay longer, but please, enjoy yourselves. When we get back to Ohio, we’ll have a big celebration.” With that, her parents rose, spoke briefly with each person, then quietly left. Forty minutes later, the group adjourned to join other family and friends for dinner. This was the final day of the four-day visit.

Jordan hugged each visitor and wished them well. She had no close friends, except for her brother, and these people came as close as any. After watching them leave the private residence, Jordan briefly wondered what life might have been like if her father had never run for the state legislature when she was a preschooler.