“I was surprised myself, but the beer selection here is actually decent.” She looked down at her beer and was surprised to notice that she had finished it.
“Most beer in America has been shit,” Dallis commented mournfully. “But there are a few brews here and there that I can tolerate.”
“Lesbians do like their beer,” Jordan helpfully pointed out. He gestured to the bartender, who came over a minute later carrying their round of drinks. Jordan passed them out, and they made their way over to an unoccupied table away from the bulk of the crowd. He sat across from Sam, leaving Dallis to occupy the seat to her right.
“Do you ever see any of your students here?” Dallis asked Jordan. Her eyes darted around the room, surveying the younger crowd.
“I have run across a few in the past.” Jordan shrugged. “I typically just try to behave myself in public. But really, you could run into students anywhere. It’s not that big a city.”
“I guess you’re right,” Dallis conceded. She looked around the room again, but this time she seemed more relaxed. Satisfied, she picked up her drink and sipped. “So far, I haven’t seen any of mine, but I feel like it’s only a matter of time.”
“So, Dallis, what’s your area of study?” Sam leaned toward her, mainly because she was having trouble hearing her over the dance music. She wondered briefly if Dallis would take it as a sign of interest.
At Sam’s question, Dallis’s eyes lit up. “I study emerging feminist literature in Europe, particularly focused on the UK. I’m from Ireland,” Dallis explained helpfully, confirming the accent Sam was drooling over just a little bit. “But I have also been branching out into queer themes lately.”
“I could see a big correlation between the two,” Sam agreed.Dallis tilted her head in curiosity. “Maybe not correlation per se…” Sam backtracked.
“No, no, no,” Dallis interrupted Sam with a shake of her head. “Say more, please.” Sam was surprised that Dallis looked genuinely interested in what she had to say. Sam had her own degree in English and graduated with honors, but she worked in marketing now and didn’t get to have many intellectual conversations.
“I’ve just found in my reading that feminist literature typically emerges eitherfromsomething or gravitatestosomething. So, the fact that you’re moving from one to the other—it makes sense.” Sam shrugged, looking shyly around.
“That is exactly it!” Dallis exclaimed excitedly. “I mean, aren’t most things a response to something?” Her eyes twinkled. “There is nothing new under the sun.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Sam tipped her bottle.
“Sláinte!” Dallis reached her bottle out and clinked Sam’s gently.
“Sláinte!” Sam echoed.
Jordan held his glass up but frowned when he noticed it was empty. “Looks like I’m due for a refill.” He shrugged. “And dancing. Must. Go. Dance. Why don’t the two of you get to know each other? I’ll see if there is anyone here worth getting to know.” He winked and then sashayed away. Sam smiled and shook her head fondly at him.
“He’s a wee bit different, isn’t he?” Dallis murmured, watching Jordan reach the edge of the crowded dance floor. The seas parted as if to make way for him. “Have you known him long?”
“Only forever.” Sam smiled. “We went to high school together. A tiny town about an hour south of here.”
“I would have loved to see Jordan in high school. Was he just as extra as he is now?” Dallis asked with affection.
“You have no idea.” Sam chuckled. “The stories I could tell you…”
“Oh, please do.” Dallis’s eyes lit up excitedly. “I could use some ammunition to keep in my back pocket for blackmail.” She winked at Sam.
“I like the way you think.” Sam pointed at her. “There are an endless number of stories that I keep tucked away just in case I need them. And with Jordan, there are an unlimited number of opportunities to use them.” The two watched silently for a few minutes as Jordan gyrated on the dance floor. He really was something else.
“Jordan told me about your mother,” Dallis said after a while. She gently laid her hand on Sam’s forearm and looked solemnly into her eyes. “I am truly sorry for your loss. It is hard to lose a mother. Mine passed when I was sixteen.”
Sam felt her eyes welling with tears. She seemed to have no control over when the grief struck her. “That’s so young,” she said, shaking her head. “How did you manage?”
“I had my village and my family, which is the size of another village in and of itself.” She shrugged, looking off into the distance. “You know how Irish families are. Well, maybe you don’t. But really, you just move forward. As women, that is always what we do.”
“I guess you’re right,” Sam agreed after a moment. They sipped their beers for a while, chatting easily. Their conversation ran the gamut, from feminist literature to Dallis’s village in Ireland, which was just outside of Dublin, to Sam’s work. Sam couldn’t remember the last time she found a woman so easy to talk to.
Actually, yeah, she could. Alex. But this felt different. With Alex, Sam had known almost instantly that there was something more than friendship there. As new as it had been, it was still unmistakable, even if it took them a while to get there. But Dallis didn’t feel like that. She felt more like a sister or an instant best friend.
She shook her head slightly at the thought and noticed Dallis watching her. Dallis raised an eyebrow—what was with beautiful women and their ability to raise only one eyebrow? Sam was tempted to ask her how she did it. Alex could do it. Dallis could do it. When Sam tried it, she looked like she had a facial tic.
“Girl trouble?” Dallis asked, breaking her from her thoughts.
“Is there any other kind of trouble?” Sam asked, sighing.
