Page 64 of The Cowboy's Cabaret

Francine, the one with cropped blonde hair speaks first. “We’d like to thank you for joining us today and officially welcome you to the Mental Health Marvels world. Sasha will give you a bit of a run down of what to expect in the coming weeks, as well as how the grant will be allotted. From there, we’d love to hear your ideas and work on a bit of a narrative to share with our board about this project and what it means to you.”

Somehow through this meeting I remain calm or maybe I blacked out, but as I focus on the conversation, Wes is taking notes at my side. Sasha, an older woman with curly hair, goes on to explain the grant will come in a large block to help with set up initially, before moving to a fixed amount monthly to budget. She explains they have an entire team dedicated toonboarding new programs and are well-versed in the slow start and challenges coming with these beginnings.

“So, tell me a bit about your vision. We’ve obviously read the narrative portion of the grant and have the general idea, but it would be lovely to hear it directly from you two,” Francine speaks.

“Well, we wanted to create a place, a haven, for people to come and heal. Mental health isn’t one-size-fits-all and there are so many benefits to being in nature, to being around horses. Our hope is this will be a new beginning, especially for teens and young adults, to come and get support, learn skills, and open up in a safe place.” Sasha and Francine are both nodding with big grins, so I continue.

“For me, peace of mind is found in this place. I think for a long time I was searching for more, for anything to tether me and I didn’t realize I had it all along, but had to get out of my own way first.” Wes rubs at the back of his neck in an almost boyish way.

“This place has come to mean a lot to me, and it’s taken a lot of hard work to work on myself, work on healing. If there’s a chance we can share any ounce of this feeling, we owe it to the younger version of ourselves and to every kid out there who thinks they have nothing to offer this world.” Wes sniffles and I lean over to hold his hand. “Everyone deserves a safe place to land, and I think it can be this place.”

It’s clear Wes’ words land with Sasha and Francine as they share a tearful look with each other. “This is precisely what we were looking for with this grant funding. We are extremely fortunate this money is funded by a private donor, meaning we are able to support projects like this one with fewer restrictions on what money can be used for in the program. This has truly been an enlightening meeting and I know our partnership will bea fruitful one. We’ll be reaching out soon!” The screen goes dark with the end of the call and Wes and I slump against our chairs.

“I’m exhausted.”

“Yeah, an hour-long panic attack will do that to you, baby. Let’s get your ice cream now. The couch is calling our name.”

“Ice cream, yes. Couch, yes, but I need to finish the last bits of my thesis, so I will be multitasking. I only have my ending support left to write, so a big summative bow on it all.” Wes presses a kiss to my temple before making good on his ice cream promise.

My phone rings with an unfamiliar number, assuming it’s Sasha or Francine following our call, I answer it. The slurred cursing on the other end of the line has me immediately regretting my decision.

“So she does answer the phone! Dahlia sweetie, are you ignoring dear old dad?” My breath hitches and I squeeze my fists, fingernails biting into my palm. “Thought maybe you’d gotten a new phone number, considering you don’t answer my fuckin’ messages.” The sound of him hocking snot onto the floor ignites a visceral reaction in me.

“I’m choosing to not answer your calls or messages because of the way you act. You’re either belligerent and extremely disrespectful or harassing me for money—really not much incentive for me to want to communicate with you.”

“Well, sweetheart, I’m your dad. Kinda don’ matter the fuck I say to you. Money too. Least you can do, you’re my kid. I’m fuckin’ broke.”

“I don’t see how that’s my problem.” I pull the phone away from my ear to take a deep breath and put it on speaker phone so I can try to calm down. “You say I’m your kid, like you’ve done anything parental for me in my life. You can’t say you’re a father only when you’re trying to impress some lady at a bar or when you want to guilt me into giving you money.”

“You ungrateful bitch, you know what, I oughta come find y—” Wes snatches the phone off the arm of the chair.

“I don’t know who in the ever-loving fuck you think you’re speaking to, because it sure as hell couldn’t be a father speaking to his child. Now you can shut up and leave Dahlia alone, or we can have a much bigger problem.” My eyebrows hit my hairline in a wonder at Wes’ defense of me.

“Boy, who in god’s name are you? She got you trapped, huh? Was curious when she’d find some poor bitch boy, guess that’s you. I’m gonna—” My dad slurs.

Wes looks to me for an okay, and I nod. “No. You’re gonna lose this number and your access to Dahlia for good. While you live with the regret of being a piece of shit, I’m gonna spend the rest of my life showing her how a real man treats his family. You can kindly fuck off now.” He smashes the end call button and kneels in front of me on the couch. “Baby, I’m so sorry. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I mean disappointed, but not surprised. This is how he is. I guess maybe it is time to cut him off. It feels wrong, like severing the last tie to my old life, to my family. I’m gonna change my number—cut him off for good.”

“You’ll have me no matter what. I know it’s hard, but I’m so proud of you.” He takes my hands in his, kissing my finger tips so gently, a reminder of the kind of love I deserve.

“Let’s block him now. It’s for the best. There’s too much good in our lives right now to let him shit all over it.” I do exactly that and send a middle finger to him wherever the fuck he’s hiding out.

The eerie feelingof the last few days of school hangs over me like a cloud as I think about what’s to come. Today, Daphne is taking me to pick up my cap and gown. She’s been working all hours of the night lately, I think trying to save up as much money as possible before she leaves Cunting Season. I know we’re both in our feelings about moving on from the club and all its memories. I wait in line for the graduation pick up and Daphne plops into a booth nearby.

She’s been on her phone so much lately—if I didn’t know better I’d almost suspect she was dating someone. Whatever it is, it’s got her attention. Overpriced hat and gown in hand, I make a show of twirling the blue material around me, using the social work cords to shimmy at Daphne.

“Ow, ow, ow! Who is she! Hotter by one degree!” Daphne claps at me, hooting and hollering in the campus bookstore, much to the chagrin of the cashier.

“So close now. Turning in my paper tomorrow and I’ll have my final grade by Friday.” I smile.

“Have you given any thought to your after graduation celebration? What do you want to do?”

“Nothing really. Probably just hang with you and Wes. Maybe see the horses. I’m flexible.”

She gives me a suspicious nod, but quickly changes the subject. “No worries, wanted to know if you had anything special in mind. A night with you and Wes sounds lovely.”

“You ready to move in a few weeks?” Daphne did give the final okay to moving and with our lease ending, it was the perfect timing.