Funny Feelings (80)

I blink. Astonished at the emotional intelligence of a ten year old girl. I wonder if adults were to get more of their advice from kids, if we’d fuck things up as much as we do. Somehow I think we’d simplify a lot.

I shake her hand in agreement.





35





ONE MONTH LATER





“Laughter is the closest distance between two people.” - Victor Borge





FARLEY


Marissa pulls into the parking garage after we give the guy manning the gate our appropriate paperwork. I didn’t want to make a big deal out of arriving to this venue for our first official show on the Wet N Mild Tour, since it’s here in L.A. anyway.

“You sure you don’t want to just have him come, Fee?” Miss asks for what feels like the hundredth time.

“I’m sure, Marissa,” I laugh.

Meyer and I are good. Every day we get a little closer to great, as the sting of his decision dulls with time. Do I wish he’d have included me in making it? Yes. But, he continues to be my hammock, my support, and I’ve always had to come upon and fight for my confidence on my own. It should never have been his responsibility, even if he played a role in me finding it in the first place.

I stay with him more nights than I don’t, even though we haven’t moved forward with the living together thing, officially.

I stay because he and Hazel feel like home. Between their quiet bantering hands, the way they both twirl a finger around in their hair while they read, to our soft weeknights snuggled up on the couch, and our bright day trips on the weekends. It feels like we’re living the life we already built together, with new discoveries along the way.

Plus, Meyer wears his glasses a lot at home.

After a surprisingly rainy winter this year, one we needed after too many droughts, the tulip bulbs we planted shot up and bloomed, along with the honeysuckle plants I helped them choose for their fragrance.

Still, I didn’t want to ask him to come today. Perhaps it’s pride.

It’s probably because I just would rather rip the bandaid off. I think I’m healed under it, anyway.

Also, he didn’t ask or push to, so maybe it’s the same for him.

Marissa gives me a squeeze before she leaves the back room, and I sneak my head out of the curtain to watch the VIPs start to trickle into their front row seats. Miss is here, of course, then there’s Lance and his wife. I laugh in astonishment when I spot Abel and Betty, plus a few of their kids from the farm, ambling down the aisle.

Someone flips a switch and the stage is illuminated, drawing my eyes up.

“Thought you might want to see this,” Clay says beside me. “Meyer was adamant about the stage design elements.”

Countless white umbrellas hang suspended from the ceiling. Some upside down, others right side up, strands of lights strung in and around them. It’s breathtakingly beautiful, silly and whimsical.

I suck in a shaky breath and beg my tears not to fall. I didn’t bring an ounce of makeup for touch-ups. “Clay, when did he do this?” I ask.

“Oh, months ago. Before he even pulled out. He had it added to the contract so that I had to work it out with every venue beforehand. Let me tell you, some of them were not so stoked about it, there’s a hundred and seventy-five umbrellas up there!”

I start to laugh and a tear escapes. That fucking man. He’s here for me even when he’s not here.

Suddenly, I have to call him. I have to tell him I love him, more vehemently than I did when I kissed him entirely too mildly before I left tonight. I need him to know that I’m more than okay, that I’m happy and excited and I love him and that I’m just as grateful for him as ever.

He doesn’t answer, though, and I force myself to shake it off. I know he and Hazel had plans to go to the movies, so they must already be in the theater, or something. I fire off a text and hope there are enough exclamations to drive the point home.

We end up going with Shauna’s pre-show ritual again. End up laughing just as much and passing time just as quickly. I swear I can feel the energy from the crowd creeping in, like dry ice slipping under the curtains and doors. It’s a sold-out show, a sold-out arena for Christ’s sake, and I don’t feel a lick of nerves. I feel transcendent, feel like I could power an engine battery.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” sounds from behind the still-closed curtain.

My neck snaps up and I see him.

Meyer, with Hazel at his side, both beaming at me.

The curtain opens and I have a distinct moment of terror grip me on his behalf. I can’t stand the thought of him torturing himself for me. His stage fright is far from cured, I can see it in the way his shoulders inch toward his ears and hear it when he blows a breath into the mic.

“I’m sorry I can’t speak this into this mic for you, loud enough for everyone in this room to hear. But Fee, I love you.

I love you you foolish, insane, beautiful, kind, intelligent, completely stupid woman.”

I laugh as a tear slips free.

“You want to get married in Vegas? I’ll buy us plane tickets right now.”

“I’ll be your maid of honor!” Hazel adds.

“You want me to spell my love for you out on a banner and fly it through the sky? I’ll start working on a pilot’s license so I can do it myself. I’d tattoo your name on my forehead if it meant you wanted to wake up next to me and look at it every day.”