Page 50 of The Wilder Widows

When I glanced to my left, Doris and Alice held hands as they bounced in circles. Even with her flattened hair and smeared make-up, Alice still maintained her air of grace as she twirled Doris beneath her arm. They’d all argued every step of the way to Pamplona, calling me crazy, telling me I’d lost my mind, but seeing the joy they each radiated while we flowed with the crowds convinced me I’d been right to dig my heels in and force them here.

A firm squeeze enveloped my waist, and I squawked as my body hoisted into the air. The jarring movement stopped, and I settled onto the shoulders of a man who grinned up at me with a smile that would have weakened my knees if I was straight. But if I’d learned one thing on this trip, the most important thing, it was that I was about as straight as Staff Sgt. Adam’s nose after he took a blow to the face with the butt of a rifle.

When I’d locked eyes with Roxy, I’d known it was then or never. One chance to find out if I really was a lesbian or if I was just asexual. Later that night, when she’d reached up and touched my face, drawing me in for a soft kiss, I’d been more terrified and exhilarated than any other time in my entire life. Those moments before our lips touched dwarfed any of the fear I’d felt in ‘Nam with bullets whizzing past and bombs shaking the ground. But when her lips had touched mine, all the fear melted away. All the puzzle pieces snapped into place. The unanswered question screamed out its answer, and for the first time in my life, I knew who I was. I’d lost myself in her kiss, only to find myself for the first time in my life.

“Marge! This is wonderful!” Doris called up to me. My handsome steed pranced me around in circles and grabbed a bottle of sangria being passed around. After taking a chug, he passed it up. Tipping back my head, I let the pink liquid pour into my mouth. It slid down my throat, and some of it missed, running down my chin and pooling onto my shirt and the head of the man below me. I mouthed an apology, but he only laughed, taking the bottle of sangria and dumping the rest on his head.

Our white clothes turned pink while it splattered and sprayed around us. Doris squealed as she caught a few drops on her shirt. While she assessed the damage, another spray of sangria collided with her chest, leaving a pink burst across her left breast. Gasping, she looked at her breast and then back up at me.

“My shirt!” she shouted up. “It’s ruined!”

“Mustard! Someone hit me with mustard!” Alice said, pushing into the group. Her sangria-soaked pink clothes displayed a large splotch of yellow. “It doesn’t even match the pink!”

“I told you, ladies, we needed two outfits!” I called down while my ride continued dancing around with me. “Wait until they start throwing flour!”

“They did!” Sylvie pulled up beside me on the shoulders of the man she still rode. Her face and clothing were a mosaic of pinks and yellows, and the only thing on her face I could see behind the wall of white was her eyes. But behind the flour mask, they still sparkled with joy.

“Viva San Fermin!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, letting the words rip through my throat. The crowd around me went wild, screaming back the sentiment. For just a moment, I pictured Manz and Stilts standing below me. Their faces covered in sangria and smiles instead of dirt and blood. Percy stood beside them, his youth restored as he grinned up at me, a gentle nod thanking me for following through on our dream. But when I blinked, three women stared at me, and they smiled and screamed it too.

“Viva San Fermin!”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“That was the craziest experience I have ever had!” Sylvie settled into the chair at the restaurant we’d all piled into. We’d considered going back to the hotel to change since we were coated in more layers of food and booze than we could ever count, but a sea of people around the restaurant sported the same look, so we went in any way.

“Did you see me perform my high kick over that guy’s head?” Alice laughed while she dabbed the mascara smeared under her eyes. All three widows resembled raccoons while they sat across from me. Now more than ever, I was grateful I wasn’t one to wear makeup.

Doris nodded. “You had a whole section cheering you on!”

In true Alice form, she’d embraced the opportunity to dance for a crowd. After she began her routine, a group of people formed around her, clapping and cheering while she had kicked higher than any human’s leg should go. At least it was a hell of a lot higher than mine could ever flex.

“You were a star out there,” Sylvie said.

A proud smile tipped Alice’s lips while she nodded. “I’m always a star.”

“That you are.” I laughed. “So, what did you ladies think?”

“At first, I was horrified,” Doris said, but then her face softened. “And then I embraced it and had the time of my life!”

“Better than church?” My eyebrow rose.

Pursing her lips together, she nodded. “But don’t tell Father O’Malley.”

Pretending to zip my lips shut, I gave her a wink. “Secret is safe with me. Maybe you can encourage your church group to celebrate saints the way they do at San Fermin.”

“Oh!” She fanned her face. “They would all keel over dead if they saw what I was just part of!”

“But you had fun?”

“Yes! So much!”

“Me too,” Sylvie agreed. “It was incredible being in the middle of all of those young, wild partiers. We were twice the age of everyone there!”

“And twice as good looking.” Alice smirked.

“I had no idea that there was so much history and festivity around the running of the bulls. I thought people just ran down the streets one day of the year, and that was it.”

Shaking my head, I flagged the waiter. “No. It’s a long tradition, and it spans an entire week.”