Chapter Text
When Jess walked into the the stadium that morning, she was blown away. She’d had no idea that this many girls played ball.
Growing up in Moose Jaw with her dad and five brothers, she’d had a built-in baseball team. She’d never even bothered trying to recruit any of the girls from school because she didn’t like them much anyways. They were irritatingly focused on boys and always called her a queer straight to her face.
Not that there was anything wrong with that, but it always sounded so cruel coming out of their mouths.
She managed to evade this treatment at home simply because the people she lived with had never treated her like much of a girl to begin with. With her mother gone before she was even three years old, there hadn’t been much opportunity to shape her into the lady that the world wanted her to be. Instead, she had been raised alongside five dirty little boys by even dirtier farmhands and farmers who didn’t care how you lived your life as long as you could lift fifty pounds and were willing to work your ass off from dawn to dusk. In their minds, all people were useful.
Her father, however, was a different story altogether. He didn’t write her off with a mind-your-own-business attitude like all the others did. He saw her for who she was and he knew what was in her heart; he just didn’t care. To him, there seemed to be little girls, little boys, and whatever Jess was. Some sort of girl-boy hybrid bred from being surrounded by so many men.
That was the bliss of living in a town like Moose Jaw. The city girls and boys would teach you to protect yourself in the real would with their sharp words and dangerous accusations, but you could always escape back to the anonymity of farm life.
This was why she was so utterly amazed. She was finally seeing people like her who weren’t boys or men in a public, open space. Ever since she’d left home, she’d had to dig and search for people like this. They would hide in back-alleys and in dark abandoned rooms, hoping for searching eyes to pass them over. But she looked around now and she saw backwards caps, trousers, button-up shirts. She even saw one Latin woman who looked impossibly even more bare-faced than Jess did. She would still have to be careful, but it seemed that Jess would be able to be at least some of herself here.
__________
Tryouts had just ended, and they had all been driven in a big bus to a hotel. Jess was currently smoking on the bathroom sink and bitching to a girl named Shirley, who looked far more anxious than the situation warranted.
“I was catching this pop fly in the outfield, and this bird almost shit in my eye, you know, and I dropped it! Damn birds.”
Jess pretended to pay attention as Shirley stressed about whether or not she had actually completed her good luck routine before swinging the bat. Then that Latin girl from the field came out of the bathroom, much to the dismay of a lady named Maybelle. Maybelle clearly wasn’t like Jess (and probably also the Latin woman), but she actually seemed alright. When she came out of the bathroom, she started talking to Jess, who was still chain smoking on the counter.
“Hey, girlie! I’m Maybelle. What’s your name?”
Jess silently cringed at being called, “girlie,” and responded with a simple, “Jess.”
“I saw you playing out there!” Maybelle continued, “You move good! Good arm, good legs, fast feet! What’s your position?”
Jess stubbed out her cigarette on the sink next to her and replaced it behind her ear when she realized that this was going to be a whole conversation. Letting out a breath of smoke, she said “Shortstop. Usually. Sometimes I do second or third base if i feel like it. You?”
“Oh fancy schmancy!” Maybelle replied, “I just float around in the outfield, usually. We’ll see where they put me!”
Jess nodded, about to respond, but Maybelle continued, just a little awkwardly, “Oh! I wanted to say earlier that I liked your trousers!”
Jess raised an eyebrow. Why was this lady complementing her on pants?
“I’m more of a skirt lady myself, but I’ve got some girl friends back home who like to wear pants.”
Her words were thick with meaning, and Jess squinted at her, sizing her up. She furrowed her brows, starting to understand the secret message that was clumsily being revealed to her. Was Jess really that obvious? Oh, who was she kidding. She was definitely that obvious.
Maybelle continued, “So like I said. I don’t wear pants, but if we get onto the same team you can wear pants around me all you want, sweetheart.” Jess quirked her eyebrow even further, thoroughly baffled. She appreciated this lady and her attempt at making Jess comfortable, even though she seemed a bit strange and overexcited. Jess nodded and said, “Thanks.” Maybelle’s cheeks colored ever-so-slightly in what seemed to be either embarrassment or relief, and she shuffled away towards the door.
Wait. No. Oh my god, she was talking to the probably-queer Latin girl (who also happened to be wearing pants earlier). Jess’s perplexed expression shifted into a rare, genuine smile. This lady was really trying; that was hard to find. Actually, hard to find was putting it generously.
__________
The next morning Jess, the Latin girl, and Maybelle were all drafted to a team called The Rockford Peaches. She was over the moon. She had a kindhearted woman named Maybelle, a probably-gay woman who she now knew as Lupe, and plenty of others who, at the very least, loved to play ball as much as Jess did. That was more than she’d had when she started.
She was drafted to a room with a tall woman called Greta Gill. She seemed nice enough; probably bent in the right direction, but Jess could live with that.
Greta had decided to look around the house before settling in to her room, so when Jess went upstairs to check out their space, it was empty. Which Jess appreciated greatly. She was already exhausted from wearing her single, nearly-new dress all day, and frankly could not deal with posturing for some probably-straight woman at the moment.
Jess opened the door and immediately stripped down to her tank and boxer-shorts, then she undid her braid and combed out the curl in front. She was comfortable like this. If Greta walked in right now, she could deal with it. If she was offended by her chain-smoking, tobacco-chewing, barely-dressed roommate, well, then she could just go and fuck herself.
Cigarette pinched between her teeth and dress crumpled unceremoniously on the floor, Jess opened her bag and started to sort through the few things she actually cared about enough to bring along with her. First, her guitar. She propped it by the window where there was a little ledge to lean it on. Then she pulled out both her under-stuff and all manners of contraband (books, photos, toys). She stuffed them both into the same drawer, using one to hide the other.
She looked at the last picture much more fondly than the others. It was of Ruth, the first girl she’d ever done anything with. Ruth had been her… sexual awakening, per se. Jess had always known she had no interest in men. It wasn’t until this particular conquest, however, that she began to consider that there were other options available to her.
There was a click of the doorknob, and Jess’s head whipped around.
Of course it was when Jess was smiling fondly at a photo of a woman that Greta chooses to walk in. It couldn’t have been pointed away from the door either, of course, it had to be right in her line of sight. Greta was standing frozen in the doorway, eyes flicking from the photo (she couldn’t pretend it was her sister; the lipstick stain on it spoke louder than any words would) to Jess’s attire, to the guitar in the corner.
Jess panicked, betraying fear in her eyes for one unfortunate moment. This woman was going to be her roommate. She would have to deal with her all year.
Wait a minute.
This woman was Jess’s roommate. Jess would have to deal with her all year. Greta Gill would get many more telling looks at Jess than this. She had to own it.
Locking her jaw and hardening her eyes, she looked up at Greta. It was a silent challenge. Well? Is this going to be a problem? Am I going to be a problem?
Greta didn’t look disgusted though. Neither did she look angry, disappointed, scared, whatever. Well, maybe a tiny bit scared. It was more like apprehension though; like she was nervous about what she was going to do or say next. Why would Greta be nervous? Unless…
Jess softened her gaze just a touch, the cloud stifling her brain retreating a bit as well. She began to recognize something in Greta’s eyes; something akin to like recognizing like. Greta nodded at her, and tried for a tentative smile. Jess raised her eyebrows at the silent admission. She nodded back, then sat down on her bed, preparing to mind her own business.
Jess lit a new cigarette, cupping her hands over her face. She then rested her arms behind her head, opening her body up to the world; it was a position she took up quite frequently, and didn’t even consider the possible repercussions of until the current moment. Greta glanced over and took in the full, newly exposed, genuine nature of Jess. Suddenly, and without meaning to, she had made herself vulnerable. Exposed. Blonde was tangled over the pillow, unmaintained. She hadn’t touched it in nearly ten years. There was also blonde coming from nearly everywhere else. Scratchy tufts under her arms, soft and downy all down her long legs. Her strong shoulders curved down into small, shapely breasts which had formed soft, uncovered peaks when the breeze had blown in from the open window next to her.
Greta took her in and smiled, genuine and sweet, before curving her expression up into a smirk. “I guess they like to mind their own business up in Canada, huh?”
Jess chuckled lightly and met her gaze, shifting one arm down to hold her cigarette. “Something like that.”