at Waffle House

"This place is so disgusting." Kathleen wrinkled her nose and grabbed a napkin to swat at some non-existent crumbs in the booth we'd snagged.
"But it's road trip food. We are on a road trip." Tod slid in next to her, put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. "Lighten up, K. Road trip! Austin! Concerts! There is no room in this booth for a gloomy face."
And you couldn't deny that Tod's face was far from gloomy. In fact, I looked around as we all looked at our greasy menus. We'd taken up two booths -- me, Kathleen, Tod and Phil; Grant, Maria, Pete, and John. Maria's arms were waiving around, her mouth moving at light-speed. Pete and John were shaking with laughter; John's head fell to the table, his back still convulsing. Grant just shook his head, obviously having heard the story already. Tod turned around to ask what the racket was all about. His left hand still rested on the menu sitting on the table, his long fingers tapping out a rhythm. Phil and Kathleen were talking, I think about a new CD they were listening to in the car. I looked down at my menu and saw that my hands were shaking slightly. Odd. But maybe appropriate given that I felt like I'd just missed getting run over by a car, or made it to shore after being dumped into some wicked white water rapids.
Fingers snapped in my face.
"Hello space cadet," Tod said. "Beverage?" He motioned to the apron-clad waitress smacking watermelon gum at our table.
"Coffee," I said. "With cream, please."
As she moved on, Phil raised his eyebrow at me. "No offense, Gia, but you don't look like you need more caffeine."
I shook my head. "Why do you have to be so darn perceptive all the time," I said, smacking him lightly. "But I'm fine, really."

let's talk about this

A month after My llama's first show with John, I found myself once again driving my truck with Peter riding shotgun. However, the silence was slightly more awkward than the trip to the beach since I hadn't spoken to Peter in that month. Even Shawn Mullins couldn't soothe my rattling nerves.
We were on the way to Austin, my truck bed full of tents, sleeping bags, and of course the ever-present grill. I'd tried to convince Tod that the campground we were staying at had grills at each site -- we'd used them during every other road trip to Austin after all -- but he'd become strangely attached to this particular birthday gift. Since he was a little nervous about playing at South by Southwest this weekend, Kathleen and I had decided that his grill had become his security blanket. But who could fault him? I wasn't even playing and I was nervous; after all, some of my best friends in the world were making their debut at one of the hottest music and film festivals in the country. I think the only one of us who wasn't nervous was John.
"I'm beginning to think John is an alien."
"What!?" I was more than startled at this statement from Peter since last I knew he wasn't a mind reader.
"Think about it," he said, as though this conversation wasn't the first one we'd had in many weeks. "Aside from the fact that he's a professional homeless guy -- not all that unusual really -- he's always happy, never nervous, never angry, he's got this really unnatural..." Pete searched for the word.
"Peace?"
"Exactly!" Pete snapped his fingers. "He's like that Buddhist Kathleen dated for five minutes. Only not a Buddhist, funny, a first-class musician with great taste in movies, and an unnatural gift at Halo."
I rolled my eyes. "Someone's got a crush."
Pete smiled, surprising me by taking my joke as just that. He shrugged. "We've been spending a lot of time together when I'm at the house."
"I didn't realize you'd actually been around lately."
The lightness of our conversation did not make it into my voice.
Peter sighed. "How about we just get this over with. I really want to have a good weekend."
"And we all know that your needs and wants are priority."
"Stop being so passive-aggressive, Gia!" Peter said, his voice rising. "For goodness sake, let's not play around anymore."
"Fine!" my voice rising to match his. "Let's start with the fact that you've become a complete jerk. I can't even describe the look on Tod's face when you weren't at the pub that night. I mean, where were you? Working? Stuck in traffic? What? What excuse?"
"No excuse," Pete said. "And I told Tod that later. We worked it all out."
"Well that's great. And what's with you're hanging around lately? You're here, you're gone, you're back again...we never see you and when we do you're silent and surly and moody and a complete prick."
"Sorry mom," Peter said, sarcasm like acid in his voice. "Didn't realize I had to clear my calendar with you first."
"Did you ever just think about the fact that we're your friends, your family. We care about you and the last six months you've just been acting different. Not you. Friends are supposed to notice that kind of stuff."
"Did you ever think that maybe, just maybe hanging around got to be a little hard," Peter said. "I needed some time away from all that 'familiness.' "
My voice softened slightly and I knew I was about to step into a minefield. "I know it was hard when your brother died, but we wanted to be there for you. You didn't let us."
"I don't want to talk about it."
I shrugged. "I know. You never do."
We were silent for a moment, but some smoke still hung in the air.
"Keep going," Peter finally said. "You're not going back far enough into this anger you're holding against me."
"You sound like a psychiatrist."
"Gia."
I sighed and my heart constricted. "Fine. Fine. It still hurts, Pete, is that what you want me to say to you? I'm angry, yes. Sure, things weren't perfect. I was starting to get tired and overwhelmed getting carried along in your wake, but I loved you so much some days I thought my heart would explode. I wanted to get over that overwhelmed feeling. But you couldn't wait. You pushed and pushed and I'm sorry but sometimes pushing doesn't work and I'm sorry but I just got too exhausted. And then Travis died and you shut us all out. You shut me out but still wanted me to be just the same Gia, holding on for dear life to the tornado that is Pete. And it was all or nothing, but I never wanted it to be nothing, Pete. And then you got mean, and it hurt." I silently cursed the tear that sneaked out of my eye. "It really hurt."
Shawn sung about sad people.
"Guess that's it?" Pete asked, staring out the window.
"In a nutshell."
"Good."
I passed a semi-truck and glanced at a field full of cows. Were they Blue Bell cows? We weren't that far from Brenham. Shawn made it through his songs and my five-disc changer switched to Journey. My cell phone chimed once and delivered a text from the mini-van in front of me, full of instruments and musicians. Need food. Next exit.
"I miss you, Gia."

my llama

As My Llama took their first set break, I leaned over the the table and talked as quietly as a noisy pub on a Saturday night let me.
"So, does anyone else think they sound better now?"
Phil laughed and Maria and Kathleen nodded their heads emphatically.
"They haven't sounded this good since that night Grant was hopped on cough medicine and doing insane things to his bass," Kathleen said.
We were laughing at this true statement as the guys walked up to the table, slightly sweaty but with huge smiles on their faces.
"So, we're awesome right?"
"And so humble," I said, giving Tod a huge hug. "But yes, awesome. If I didn't know you already, I'd probably throw myself all over you and vow to be a groupie forever."
"Sweet."
"I'll be a groupie," Maria said, draping herself across Grant and planting a kiss in the middle of his stuck-on grin.
"We were just talking about what a great addition you are," I said to John.
"Thanks," he replied. "These guys are great. Makes it easy to play. And this crowd!" he gestured to the packed pub. "I mean, I've played some gigs that were one step up from a funeral. A good crowd also makes it easy."
We pulled up some chairs to the table and I went to see Lance about some more drinks. As I stood at the bar waiting, I turned back to watch my friends chatting and laughing. I noticed Tod lean toward Phil and Phil shake his head. Tod's helium mood deflated slightly as he craned his neck and scanned the pub. Unconsciously I balled my fist, wishing Pete's face was within punching distance, because I knew that was who Tod looked for. Because Pete had never missed a gig. Ever.
"Here you go Gia."
I turned and grabbed the tray of drinks. "Thanks Lance."
When I turned around I had to tighten my grip on the tray and thank heaven that my nerves had gotten stronger over the years because speaking of the devil...look who'd walked in the door.
"Hey Lance," I turned back to the bar. "Better give me one for Pete too."