I would beg Mia, “Please, I can’t take this torture; let’s let her out.”
Mia would always say, “No. Come on, we have to be a team.”
That one peculiar night as we lay there in the dark, staring up at the ceiling and waiting for June to begin her torturous song, something changed in Mia. June only let out just the tiniest yelp, and Mia very slowly got up, walked to the cage, picked June up and said, “It’s okay, baby girl,” to her as she patted her on the head. She set June between us and slid back into bed.
I let June curl up on my pillow, literally on top of my head, and then I turned to Mia. “Hey, my little ball-buster, are you getting soft on me?” I said to her.
“No.” She sighed. “I just need to get some sleep.”
“What happened to teamwork?”
“Choosing my battles,” she said groggily before dozing off.
TRACK 3: The Fuckin’ Hollies
Tyler and I were sitting in a shit-hole bar in Brooklyn, having a midday beer and talking about profound things like why some sports teams, like the Florida Marlins, are assigned to states and others, like the Boston Red Sox, belong to cities.
“I’ve often pondered the very same question,” Tyler said.
“It’s why I don’t watch sports. Nothing makes sense and it’s a pointless pastime. If you’re the athlete competing, it’s one thing, but to just sit there and watch? What’s the point? We don’t sit around watching people paint pictures.”
“That would be extremely boring, Will.”
“Are you telling me that baseball isn’t boring? I used to get bored playing it as a kid.”
Distracted, Tyler looked up to the ceiling. “What’s this song called?”
That bar always played the most recognizable classic rock songs. “It’s ‘Long Cool Woman in a Black Dress.’”
“Oh, man, my dad used to love CCR,” he blabbered.
“This isn’t Creedence Clearwater Revival, bro, it’s the Hollies.”
“You’re full of shit. My dad would play these guys nonstop. Anyway, who else sounds like this?”
“The f**kin’ Hollies do, I’m telling you.” I opened my eyes really big for emphasis.
“You don’t know everything about music, Will. I know you think you do. This is CCR. I’d bet money on it.”
“Okay, fine. If you’re right, which you’re not, I’ll buy everyone in this bar a drink. If I’m right, all you have to do is buy me a drink.”
“Deal,” he said, but before he Googled it on his phone, he stood up and made an announcement. “This genius,” he said, pointing his ginormous index finger at the top of my head, “doesn’t believe this is CCR on the jukebox.”
The eight random people in the bar all shook their heads and said, “What?” and “Of course it’s CCR.”
Tyler continued, “I’m going to Google it and if it’s CCR, then this guy will buy this bar a round.”
The other daytime drinkers-slash-alcoholics all cheered and clapped. I watched as Tyler Googled it. His silly, smug grin was washed from his face in seconds.
He stared at the screen and then under his breath he said, “It’s the goddamn Hollies.” He looked around the bar and yelled, “We lost, people. Sorry. Better luck next time.”
When things settled down, I remembered that I wanted to interrogate him about the pregnancy-test thing. “Do you and Jenny have any news or anything?”
He looked over at me. “No. Why?”
“I was wondering about the baby thing.”
“The baby thing?” He seemed pissed. “Is that how you ask if Jenny’s pregnant?”
“Shit. Sorry, bro. I didn’t mean to be rude. Yeah, I guess I’m asking if Jenny’s pregnant.”
“No, she’s not, but we’re still trying, and I don’t mind that part.” He waggled his brows. “What about you guys? You gonna wait until after you’re married?”
“I don’t know. At first we were like rearing to go, but our jets have cooled. We’re definitely waiting until after we’re married and then some. Dude, it’s hard enough having a puppy, and with the studio launching, we’d be crazy to go there. I want kids for sure, but we’ve got plenty of time.”
“Yeah, man. I hear ya. So you guys are getting married in two weeks. That means we have to do the bachelor party next weekend. I’ve been brainstorming.”
“I don’t need a bachelor party.”
“Hell, yeah, you do, and I have the perfect idea.”
“What?”
“Pub crawl and then lap dances.” He arched his eyebrows and nodded, saying, “Hmm, hmm, whaddya think?”
“I don’t even know what to think. Whatever your plan is, you best run it by Mia. I don’t want to be divorced before I’m married.”
“All right, then it’s set for next Saturday. It will all be planned and I’ll tell Mia almost everything.”
“No nudey bars or strippers,” I said nonchalantly.
“That’s like a rite of passage. What’s happened to you?” Tyler’s long arms started waving around. He normally talked with his hands, but when he was really passionate about something he would get both arms into it. It was creepy.
“I just don’t want to.”
“Liar.”