We were in the Shade Garden on October 13, 2012. The cacti were making long, pointed shadows on us as the sun slowly fell behind Camelback Mountain. An Asian woman interrupted as she chased a family of quail with her camera off the designated paths at the Desert Botanical Gardens in Phoenix, AZ. At dusk, the mosquitoes began to buzz and feasted upon our ankle blood. Nerves full and pride swallowed, I hinted to alleviate the pressure. Next, a little light laughter, an answer for most occasions, illuminated the tiny reflection pond. Finally, I muttered something on bended knee. She said yes.
We took the red-throated hummingbirds, the Bee Garden, the succulents, the butterflies with us, and we bathed in apple cider. Our secret was leaking. It could no longer hide in the hem of my jeans. It was bursting from the doors of Bourbon Street. The hiss from burning pumpkin seeds whispered our secret like a game of telephone. Our secret – a child’s face hiding a Snicker’s wrapper with chocolate on the corners of her mouth. Naughty girl – no, you’re naughty.
Volume two begins.
