Page 32 of Best Year Ever
“I prefer muscles to talent,” Maggie jokes, and I slap her on her arm.
“If you think being a cowboy doesn’t require talent, we probably need to get you on a ranch,” says the guy sitting on a stool next to us.
We are both unable to contain our giggles and run away to a table.
All of a sudden my phone beeps and I look at the notification. Seeing it’s from “NEW YEARS,” I shield my phone so Maggie can’t read the message.
NEW YEARS: Awesome job on making the finals. Bummer about the loss today, but from what you were saying, the points will help your ranking?
This was his third message this week, all very “friend-zone.” I’ve made an effort not to wait too long to message him back, so that he doesn’t think I’m ignoring him again.
RORI: Aw shucks, thanks.
He quickly responds by putting a “HA HA” reaction on my message.
NEW YEARS: Glad you’re staying humble.
RORI: Just adopting the cowboy spirit here in Texas.
He responds by sending a GIF of a cowboy dipping his hat. I put a laughing reaction on it and turn my phone over.
Maggie’s looking at me. “Who you talking to over there, mysterious one?”
I try to look nonchalant. “No one. Just a friend.”
“Uh huh,” she says, looking skeptical. She blessedly doesn’t push me. “I’d like to find a friend tonight,” she replies, peering around the room.
An hour later we walk back to the hotel, no “friend” for Maggie and sober from our seltzer. But our spirits are high from being able to act our age, if only for one night before the tour calls again.
When I get back from the Mexico tournament the following week, I have a different kind of event to look forward to.
For the first year ever, I’m a spokesperson for a charity event supporting our local breast cancer organization, Pink Sisters. The event starts with a “Fun Run,” followed by a three-hour street festival, with all the entry fees going to the organization.
The spokesperson role is something that I watched Dad take on many times to support my mother’s memory. And now it’s one more thing that he’s willing to pass on to me.
This event’s also special because my mom’s sister, my Aunt Mandy, is coming. As my mom’s only living blood relative, she’s a big source of the stories I collect about her. I soak them up every time she visits, which is increasingly less now that I’m older. The Florida heat bugs her, but it’s not too bad in March.
Grief is tricky when you lose a parent so young. My personal memories are fuzzy, with my child filter runningover all of them. So Dad and Aunt Mandy have layered on their own to make me feel closer to knowing my mom as an adult.
Aunt Mandy comes in the night before the fundraiser, taking an uber to my place. It feels amazing to be able to host her in my own house this year. Another adulting milestone.
She’s one of those people that have a natural joy for life. She’s bouncing with energy as she comes in, giving me a big hug.
“My Rori, my beautiful Rori,” she says, giving me kisses on my cheek as we embrace.
“I’m so excited you’re here,” I say back. I break our hug and invite her further in with a wave of my hand.
“Come, come, let’s drop your bag in the guest room and you can get the grand tour.”
I show her around before we settle in for dinner. The “grand tour” is quick. I bought this small cottage near Pinnacle because I love the bright energy of the rooms, which are full of windows. I don’t need much space for just myself.
After we’re done getting her situated, I start serving dinner. Mind you, dinner’s a pre-made meal I purchased from a local meal delivery service, the extent of my skill set for real cooking.
“So Rori, what a year so far,” Aunt Mandy says after she’s taken a few bites. “I see you on TV all the time. Quite a proud auntie.”
As she’s one of the few whose good opinion matters to me, her acknowledgement of my accomplishments means a lot.
“Thanks, Aunt Mandy,” I say with a grin.
