"What? Why?" She sits down on the guest chair and turns my laptop to face her, so that she can get a better look at the photograph of Levi standing behind me, smiling into the camera lens.
"Because he's with someone else."
"So? People break up."
"And she's pregnant."
Her eyes widen. "Withhischild?"
"No, Trisha, with Elton John's love child. What do you think."
"Alright, alright. No need to get testy." She mutters, dipping her head down. "So, if he's with someone else, then why is he taking these cozy little shots with you?"
I shrug. "I don't know. We were out taking pictures of this," I click over to the batch of photographs I took digitally, "And I took a couple of test shots. That's what we ended up with."
"He is a mighty fine specimen, if I do say so myself."
"He's not a piece of meat, Trisha."
"Well, of course, he's not. But he sure makes a great cowboy."
"He's also studying to be an architect."
"Ah, so he's got a brain under that hat, does he." She licks her lips. "I bet you he's also got one nice package in his shorts, too. I stole a peek when I was at your place and he dropped you off."
I snort a laugh and slap her playfully.
"Yes, you know, don't you." She growls. I can tell that she's growling because when she does the veins in her neck protrude.
"Stop!" I giggle.
"Oh, man, but it's too bad about the baby thing, though." She shakes her head. "Unless, maybe he doesn't want to stay with her?"
"Which is irrelevant, since he'll still be committed to her, and she looks like she won't take no for an answer."
Her eyes widen. "You've met her?"
"No, but I did check her out on social media. Some Shelly Givens. Hard looking."
She gestures feverishly with her hands. "Show me! Show me!"
I love this girl. She even learned sign language so that we could talk about people at events. I also taught her how to read lips, and she sometimes corrects me when I start falling out of myspeech patterns, and I start to sound like a deaf person again. We went to this snooty family gathering on her side one year for Christmas, and stood in the sidelines, signing to each other how fat this person got and how stupid this one is, and so on. Trisha's the best. Nobody suspected a thing, since all her family knows that I'm hearing impaired. They didn't bat an eyelash.
"Oh, what a tart! Look at her!" She comments. "And he knocked her up? What does he see in her?"
"I don't know. But she may be different than she looks. Looks can sometimes be deceiving, don't you know."
Trisha places a hand on mine. "You are like a million times prettier than she is. And the fact that his smile is so warm and wide in that picture with you just tells you that he's over her."
"I'm not competing, Trisha. How can I?" My question is rhetorical.
"Well, how do you know that he's going to stay with her? I mean, look at that mug on him in that photograph?"
"You're basing his happiness on the fact that he's going to be a daddy with this woman on one picture that he likely didn't know was being taken?"
“I know. You’re right.” By her tone she’s fishing. “I want to meet her. Let’s go stake her place out or something.”
“First, neither of us knows where she lives, and second, you can come to the Copper Cove Hoedown next weekend and see her there. At least that way there won’t be a restraining order after.”
