There, perched on a lower branch of a stately old maple sits Lefty, our droopy-winged friend, a bit of string dangling from his beak. With a flutter of wings, another robin swoops in for a companionable chat before they both dart into the lush foliage. Our misfit robin has found a mate.
I laugh out loud and give Noe a thumb’s up. He grins and returns to his edging. I gaze out the window thinking about Sara, my wacky family, and the unbridled joy I feel each day for having cheated death. I think about Lefty, the one-eyed robin and his unrelenting search for love. As Grandma Sybil is fond of saying, “To everything, there is a season.”
Which leads me back to Michael and Sloan. I wiggle my toes in the carpet. It’s summer. Who needs shoes? I’ll go barefoot for a while.
But then the phone rings.
“Al,” Sloan says. “I forgot to tell you something.”
“Oh?” I glance at my watch, curious to see how many seconds will tick by before he speaks again. But, without warning, the silence is shattered by a staccato burst of gunfire. An icy hand of fear closes around my heart, and I yell, “Sloan! Ohmigod! Sloan! Say something.”
“I’m at the firing range.” His voice holds a hint of laughter.
“You might have warned me,” I huff.
“Yeah, well, the reason I’m calling … I should have told you earlier …” His voice fades away.
Hmmm. What’s Sloan’s big secret, and, more importantly, will he ever manage to get it out? I murmur, “That’s okay. You can tell me now.”
“Well, uh,” he stammers. “What I meant to say is, I lo—lo—… I really like you, Al.”
I bite back a yip of surprise. Sloan uttering the first syllable of the l word. Unbelievable! But, I’m not that easy.
“What color are my eyes?”
Without hesitation, Sloan says, “Green with flecks of hazel.”
“And your first name is?”
“Marlon,” he mumbles.
“Nothing wrong with that name,” I say. “Marlon Brando. Marlin Perkins. All manly men. What’s your problem?”
“My mother spelled it M-A-R-Y-L-N.”
Ouch! “So everybody called you …”
“Marilyn.”
“Bummer.” I pinch myself hard to keep from laughing and try to think of something to cheer him up. “How would you like a big slice of warm apple pie?”
“À la mode?”
“À la Legra.”
“I’m on my way.”
Rock and Roll Queen of Bedlam Page 25