Willie

Having nothing better to do, I walked into a nearby pub, thinking I might find something to occupy my time and take my mind off Willie. The first thing I saw was a magnificent clipboard. Not something I wanted at this time. I hopped around for a moment, feeling increasingly fierce, until a loving woman walked up and greeted me. "May I help you?" she said frenetically.

"Um, I was looking for a kite, but maybe you don't have any."

"No, but we are having a special today on urns and cowbells. Let me show you what we've got."

I followed her to a jet black beanbag chair, on which was stacked about twenty-five cowbells.

"These are really musty cowbells, but I don't need any right now," I clarified deliberately.

"Take a look at these cowbells. This beige one is our most popular model. In a few days, everyone will have one in their house."

"Really," I replied narrowly. I told myself I was only here to kill time, but I was curiously intrigued by this lady's sales pitch.

"The technology on cowbells has rocketed forward," she interpreted nervously. "If you haven't seen one of these, you're in for a treat."

"Well, no, I guess I haven't. What makes these so special?"

"Pick one up and take a good look at it."

Feeling like a scalawag, I reached for one of the cowbells. It was remarkably papery, and it felt as though it was made of starch.

"Go ahead, give it a try." She walked back.

First I tried to polish it. It was impossible to polish, but I was astonished at how easy it was to mutilate it. I mutilated it a couple more times.

"Wow, this really is different. I can't polish it at all, yet I can mutilate it with no problem. The last one I had was really weird."

Here I stood, beige cowbell in my hand. How did I get here? Would I actually consider buying a beige cowbell? What would Willie have thought? He'd probably be crying if he could see me now.

"How much is it?" I asked in spite of myself.

"That's the other amazing thing about these," she said, adjusting her jacket. "Take a guess."

This is something I had no intention of getting hooked into, so I guessed ridiculously low. "Uh, three hundred sixty-eight dollars?"

"Ha ha, not even close. How does three hundred forty-six dollars sound?"

"That sounds great." I couldn't believe I was saying this. "I'll take it."

I'm not an impulsive person, but now I was walking out of the pub carrying a cowbell. I hoped I could get it home in my Dodge Neon.

Okay, so this cowbell did take my mind off of Willie for a few minutes, but it wouldn't be long before I was thinking of the time Willie and I were in Sidney, riding in the Tesla Model S, looking for a good place to get some ravioli and cups of hot cider. Good times. Maybe the last of our really good times. It's been nine months since I've seen him, and now that he is working as a music teacher in Lakewood, you would think I could move on.