The Final Rose

Chapter Nine: Obviously

The next day, while Patience went on her date with Jacob, the remaining contestants lounged around the seaside cottage. It was another day, in a new location, but with the same daily routine.

Some of the women had congregated outside, testing their meddle in the cold ocean water. I sat in the living room with Candace, quietly reading some popular magazines that had been left on the coffee table. It was the first reading material we'd been allowed since our arrival. The fragrant scent of ground beef, onion, and garlic wafted from the kitchen where Stephie was assembling the innards for homemade empanadas.

Lee flopped onto the couch with the dramatic flair of a small child. "I'm so bored," she complained. "They should really give us something to do—like build a house for Habitat for Humanity or volunteer at a women's shelter."

"Speak for yourself," Candace snorted, turning the pages of a glossy magazine. "I'm perfectly content to sit and do nothing for as long as I can get away with it."

Lee turned to me, leveling me with her blue-eyed stare. "What do you think, Nokomis?"

"It does seem like our time could be better spent," I found myself agreeing.

"I'm going to go ask," she said matter-of-factly. As quickly as she'd thrown herself onto the couch, she was back up on her feet and marching away.

Candace stared after Lee. "What do you think her deal is?" she wondered aloud.

"What do you mean?" I squirmed in my seat. Having Lee on Candace's radar made me uneasy.

"Is she really that sweet, or is it all a show for the cameras?"

"You should really be nicer," I chastised.

"Like Lee?" she snickered.

"It wouldn't hurt."

"You like Goodie Two-Shoes."

"Of course I like her," I brushed off, hoping I wasn't blushing. "I like all the girls—minus Patience," I felt compelled to add.

Candace sat up straighter in her overstuffed chair. "Don't give me that line. I see how you look at her. It's been like that from Day One."

There was no use denying it. I worried my lower lip, knowing I'd been caught. "It's not a big deal. It's just a little crush."

"Are you bi?" she demanded to know.

"I don't have a label for myself."

"Stop with the runaround."

"I'm serious," I bristled. "My ancestors had very different ideas about sexuality and gender than Euro-Americans. There wasn't a sexual spectrum or even a rigid dichotomy. You're either male, female, or a third gender. The French called them berdache. Today they're called Two-Spirit. It's essentially two identities occupying one body."

"Is that what you are? Two-Spirit?" Candace was determined to put me in a box. It was just like how she was with this show--she was only ever comfortable if she knew the rules.

"I've been with both men and women before," I relented.

"So three beers and you're queer."

"You know I don't drink."

"Damn, Pocahontas." Candace shook her head and laughed. "And just when I thought you were the most vanilla person in the house." She almost looked impressed with me?

"Don't say anything, okay?"

"Are you kidding me? If the producers knew you were bisexual or Two-Spirit or whatever you call yourself, you'd stay around until family visits for sure. That's ratings Gold," she emphasized.