Chapter Eighteen

And with that little caustic comment on my lifestyle, Stella was out the bedroom door, gone in search of breakfast #2 or possibly #3.

Abby was in charge of Stella’s meals.  I was in charge of the “result” of Stella’s meals.

Abby often forgot if she fed Stella so she would just feed her again and quite amazingly…Stella continued to look like a teeny 6-month old kitten.

Let it be noted I would kill for that kind of metabolism…

“Only dogs will eat more than they should,” Abby informed me one day as I commented on her opening a second can of Mighty Mouse cat food for Stella’s morning meal.  “Cats know better and will space their food out.”

Stella spaced her food out all right…as much as she could get…whenever she could get it.

Since I had the day off, I had no firm plans except to try to recover from last night…and maybe think about where Hannah and I would go tonight.

That was actually a no-brainer.  We always went to Doyle’s on Saturday night.    Saturday night was “amateur night”.

For the first hour they encouraged and welcomed members of the early bird audience to come up on stage and sing with the band.

They gave you the words and let you sing your little heart out.

This was the real deal.  They even gave you a live mike…hoping like hell you had a somewhat decent voice.

Every Saturday night…Hannah faithfully put her name in the wicker basket that the band placed on the stage.

Hopeful participants would put their names in and wait…full of excitement.. to be chosen.

Hannah had yet to be chosen…going on two years now…

Personally…I thought it was fixed.  I had heard Hannah sing…and so had members of the band at a private, after-hours  Christmas party a couple of years ago.

I had never…in my whole life…heard “Jingle Bells” sung so completely out of tune as I had that night.

“I don’t understand,” she would whine…week after week.  “Who has this much bad luck?

“I know! I know!”  I was always very sympathetic.  “Maybe next week.”   And I would pat her shoulder…just like I did every week.

“I should just give up…” Hannah would say every week…voice dripping with disappointment…

“Really?” I would carefully ask..

And then…because I loved Hannah so much…I would also always say…

“You know…you have such a…pretty voice…”

…which is why Hannah would be putting her name in the basket tonight.

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