There were balloons and people everywhere on the stage, and I was so confused because the baby started crying and Bristol started crying and saying, But like, I don’t want to get married and the little ones were saying The blonde skeleton lady scares us Mommy! but I wasn’t listening—well, maybe I was a little because they were playing “Barracuda” (boy, you ladies from Heart sure are killjoys, aren’t you?) and that so rocks but you know what, in my head I was hearing something else, because that’s when I saw her. It was like she waiting in the wings for me because—because she was waiting in the wings for me! Sometimes Jesus hits us over the head with His bounty and his messages all at once. No subtlety from our Savior!
But she was there, and she led me away from the crowd and before I could say, “Who are you and where’s my handgun?” she touched my lips so gently, it was softer than the fur on the moose head at the lodge, and it effectively silenced me, and she said, Puedes escuchar, Fernando?
That was it. I done better than a venison burger on a gas grill. Who was this mysterious woman who could speak French or something like it like a foreigner, who knew my innermost secret? ‘Cause suddenly it took me back to Camp Caribou and that summer night with the counselor and the homemade hooch and my cousin throwing up near the fire and the girls saying No more fuckin' Kumbaya, we want ABBA and so they got the tape deck out and as the flutes played the counselor led me away to the lake, where under the blanket of night she did beautifully unspeakable things to me that made me sing to the stars but that to this day my husband will not do unless I buy him a new snowmobile. Do you know how many dang snowmobiles that man owns now? Men and snowmobiles are a dime a dozen but I tell you what, a good orgasm is hard to find. Did I just say that? As long as I'm married and as long as Jesus is down with it, it's all good.
Photo filched from New York magazine.