Blonde
Shawn spent New Year’s Eve
under a log rain shelter in Buckley, playing in a drum circle as people walked
across beds of hot coals. It was a paid gig, a hundred bucks for two hours.
Considering his lonely-boyfriend state, it wasn’t hard for Ivy to talk him into
it.
If you figured 200 participants at $195 each, Ivy’s
new-age friend Jordan was raking it in. Shawn only wished he had skipped the
seminar, a four-hour avalanche of phrases like “seeking our true potential” and
“freedom to be ourselves,” words that caused him to instinctually check his
wallet.
At one point, Shawn couldn’t take any more and shot from
his seat. “You dumbfuck! I’m starving to death so I can play drums in a blues
band! Do I seem like I’m afraid to do what I want in life? You people are
wasting your time here!”
Or at least, he wished he had. But he needed the hundred
bucks. So here he was, out in the cold air, smack dab in the lahar path of Mt.
Rainier, pounding skins as overpaid professionals sauntered through lava beds.
The drummers were mostly competent amateurs, but the dreadlocked black guy on
the djembe was definitely a pro. He and Shawn took turns spinning solos over
the top of the flow.
Shawn occasionally looked up to check out the walkers.
Most of them edged up timidly, let the courage build up then strode across in a
burst. A few were more brazen, like the full-figured blonde doing The Twist in
the number-two bed, letting out various animal noises.
That was Ivy. She came running back to the drums, her
face glowing with adrenaline.
“Omigod! Shawn! That was such a rush. Try it!”
Shawn smiled. “Nuh-uh.”
“Why?”
He quoted one of Jordan’s instructions: “‘If you find
that you don’t believe in doing this, we would prefer that you didn’t.’”
“You don’t?”
“Honey, I got my own rush. I’m gonna beat these congas
till my arms fall off.”
Ivy checked her watch.
“Would you stop for a midnight kiss?”
“No! Already?”
“Yuh-huh.”
Shawn took Ivy by the hands and gave her a friendly smack
on the lips.
“Oh, honey,” she said. “I’m gonna need something a little
more memorable than that. Just pretend that I’m Tacoma.”
Shawn yanked Ivy to his chest in a tango-grip, then
dipped her until her hair touched the ground and gave her lips a thorough
working-over. When he pulled her back up, her eyes were larger than before.
“Whew! Lucky girl! I’m gonna run through the fire again.”
Shawn returned to his drums, gave the djembe-player a
wink, and caught on to the new salsa track. He waited for the old feeling, the
hands drifting off, then peered through a timbered window to find the great
white face of Tahoma. He thought he could use it as a satellite dish, to
transmit his thoughts all the way to Pittsburgh. Did you feel that kiss, honey?
Tacoma was spending New Year’s preparing her grandmother
for death. The rest of the family was busy fighting over the will – or wills,
one of which was executed without proper legal assistance or witnesses.
Tacoma’s Aunt Lana was riding herd on a trio of lawyers, determined to make
sure that things went her way.
Tacoma was just as enraged as everybody else, but
realized that someone had to stay out of the fray and see to the old lady’s
last days on earth. By doing so, she basically relinquished any chance at
seeing a single dollar, but she was determined to keep her grandmother free of
the internecine storm, her eyes fixed firmly on heaven.
In his harsher moments, Shawn couldn’t see how the old
hag deserved such treatment, considering the years of hell she sicced on her
granddaughter. But he also understood that his girlfriend possessed a soul of
exceptional size and grace.
A month after her
grandmother’s death, they were sitting on Tacoma’s bed, talking about small
things, when Shawn was struck by a thought.
“Do you know that... even if we don’t end up in each
other’s lives, even if outside forces should eventually come between us... Do
you know that I will always love you? It’ll never change. I’ll always love
you.”
To him, it was a simple statement of fact. The sun’s out
today. Olympia is the capital of Washington State. But on Tacoma, it had a
dramatic effect. At first she looked stunned, as if he had just insulted her.
Then she seemed to fall in on herself, turned her back to him and began to sob
uncontrollably.
Puzzled, he went to the end of the bed and wrapped his
arms around her shoulders. She cried for fifteen minutes, and he knew better
than to say a word.
Photo by MJV
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