Don't Shoot! I'm Just the Avon Lady! Read Online Free PDF

“athletic” and “strong.” What the hell, I thought. Plus, I’m cute!
    “Oh, that’s a great ending! I love it!” Shanna gave me the thumbs up and peeled out my driveway, Hog smoke billowing a fog of hope.
    So when Shanna appeared that night, holding a bottle of Jose Cuervo and a couple of containers of Mexican take-out, I should have been prepared.
    “I got a date! I got a date! The ad worked!” She squealed with the reawakened spirit of a fifteen-year-old and the howl of a neighbor’s dog echoed in return.
    “Alright, girlfriend!” I took the booze in one hand, high-fived her with the other, and did a mini victory butt dance for my lonely friend.
    We ate on my couch, our feet propped on my Spanish pine coffee table, and she mooned over her potential boyfriend. I washed my enchiladas down with homemade margaritas and watched her speak. She spilled red chili down the front of her shirt. It made a pattern like a heart against the grout stains, and I pointed it out.
    “Looks like a love match to me. Even the burrito says so!”
    “Birdie, he loves horses. He drives a Harley! A Softail Fatboy! He plays drum in a Metallica tribute band! Oh my god, I think I’m in love! His name is Joel! Did I tell you he rides a Hog?”
    Wow , I thought. He sounds just like Shanna, only a guy. Perfect .
    “Well, kiddo. Burritos never lie.” I laughed, gave Shanna an extra napkin and sent a secret prayer to the universe that Joel might need some tile work done.
    “But Birdie! I need a makeover! You have to help me get ready for this date! It’s Thursday night!”
    So I agreed to meet Shanna at her house, to bring as much Avon as my backpack would hold, to bring half my wardrobe, too, so she could choose something sexy, something not covered in powdered shards of tile. I made a mental note to bring facial foundation and mascara and duct tape, if necessary, to restrain Shanna if she resisted.
    “But, uh, Birdie. There’s one thing I have to tell you. Please promise me you won’t be mad, ok? Promise? We’re best friends, right?” Shanna’s voice cracked a bit, sounded more fragile than I ever remembered, and I wondered what could be wrong. Was her drummer-boy Joel married?
    “Sure, Shanna, don’t worry. We’ll always be best friends. You know that, man. What? Just spill it! I promise I won’t be upset.”
    But even with that cheerleading routine, even with Shanna as my best-friend-forever, I wasn’t prepared for what came next.
    “Thank God! I knew you’d understand! Here’s the deal. Joel has a friend and I told him the four of us could double date. His friend plays bass in the Metallica tribute band.”

Never Forget This
    The next morning I left my boys at a neighbor’s home and walked among the daisies and radishes and fresh fish of the farmers’ market. I thought about Shanna’s upcoming date. Hell, our double date. Why did I agree to a blind romantic evening with mullet-headed men who play in a Metallica tribute band? I swore off Mexican food and margaritas forever as I contemplated making small talk with some motorcycle dude wearing leather and a bass-guitar strap. I stopped in front of a woman selling espresso out of a canvas-lined booth and inhaled the potent fumes. Better borrow Shanna’s heavy metal CDs and get a couple of bad-ass press-on tattoos.
    My head ached from the endless salt-rimmed drinks, from the dream-filled night where I tackled faceless demons, imploring them to return my life. My friend’s parting words irritated the space between my eyes like a festering boil.
    “Birdie, you don’t owe her anything. You gave her life – what more do you need to give her? Nothing. If you let her into your life, it will disrupt everything – everything! What are you going to tell the boys? What if she’s looking for money? You don’t have it, Birdie. You don’t have enough of anything to give her. Let it go. Be happy that she’s still alive.”
    Alive, alive, alive, alive. I’ve had a lifetime