Excerpts:
The bad thing about bad things is that they have the power to spillover, so the damage, really, is immeasurable. A broken heart does that. Lies do that too. Especially the kind that make you feel like a fool and scare the trust out of you. This seemed like Dean’s favorite kind of lie. Whatever distraction I found only served as a tether to the grief. Fortunately, the pain was so big that I was becoming numb. Unfortunately, it was so big that I knew that it was going wherever I was. So I packed my car, pointed it east and drove. I didn’t plan out the trip. I had a reservation in Arizona, at a quaint inn for the night. Tomorrow I would plan the next leg.
____________________________________________________
​
The songs continued. And the shots continued. And all throughout they kept telling me it was my turn. But I was a karaoke virgin. I was a virgin not because of virtue or values. I was a virgin because I had never shared karaoke with tequila. When the night began, I had absolutely no intention of being part of the evening’s entertainment. I had delegated myself as the loyal audience cheerleader. I would clap like no tomorrow. Cheer like no cheerleader had ever cheered. The group humored me but they knew, they told me, that I would eventually get up on the stage. They promised me, which worried me, just a bit. I had my guard up but they were not karaoke and tequila virgins. They knew that after a few shots, I would get up on the stage and sing. The first thing that they did not know was that it actually took five shots to loosen me up. And the other thing that they did not know was what tone I would eventually take up to the stage with me.
____________________________________________________
​
“I love margaritas. Margarita sounds like a girl’s name. I know this woman named Margaret. Sort of like margarita. Boy, did she love to knit. She was always knitting sweaters for people. Like this one I’m wearing. She didn’t knit this one though. I got this on-line. I like to buy things on-line. Oh, and while I was looking for it, I saw this great food site. I went on and found this really good pie recipe. I was gonna bake it but I didn’t have the apples I needed. I needed Granny Smith, but I only had Gala apples. Don’t you love Gala apples? So I went to the store. Guess who I saw there? Maya. It was so funny. I never see Maya at the store. She is usually out riding. Hey, we should go riding. But wait, it’s dark out. Horses don’t have headlights. Can’t go riding tonight. Oh well. I guess I’ll just have another margarita. I love margaritas.” Seriously. She said that all in two or three breathes. And she did that all night. I was impressed. Confused, but impressed.
____________________________________________________
​
“I call this Birdland. ’Cause of all the birds,” Lilly said, in case I didn’t make the connection. The lake seemed to be a haven. All kinds, all around. Throughout the next half hour, she pointed out the cute little finches, lots and lots of ducks appearing to wake and start their day, gray shimmery doves, a lone crow, a roadrunner farther down the edge of the water, quail, thrashers, dancing hummingbirds and bright red cardinals.
____________________________________________________
​
“That’s the boy cardinal. The girls aren’t as pretty,” Lilly explained. At night, she said, you could hear the owls. But during the day you could hear everything else. If you listened hard enough, you could imagine the conversations. The questions and answers that followed. The gossip. Birds interrupting other birds. Even arguments and flirting.
____________________________________________________
​
I tried to see where the noise was coming from. I could see some small animals scurrying between the trees. It seemed like there was a ballet going on in the brush. Two cottontails were performing for no one in particular. They came out of the brush and one would leap into the air and as he landed, the other would follow. This went on for a few minutes and then they hopped away. It was, I thought, a lovely performance.
​