Rock and Roll Queen of Bedlam

Home > Other > Rock and Roll Queen of Bedlam > Page 25
Rock and Roll Queen of Bedlam Page 25

by Marilee Brothers


  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.”

 

 

 


‹ Prev