There she is, moving silently, cautiously to the bait. She really likes the candy. She tears open the packages, almost viciously, and crams the contents into her mouth as if afraid that they will vanish. The look on her face is almost spiritual.I sit unmoving, just watching, but because of a chance look in my direction she spots me. Fear replaces the serene expression I've been enjoying, and quick as a flash, with a splash, she's gone.I hope she comes back.It's been three days since she left in a panic. The candies I leave in the cockpit remain untouched. Every morning, I gather it up and toss it into the refuse bin. Every night I put fresh candy out, hoping for her return, but so far, nothing. She's still there though. She still sings to me.In a funk, I look around for something, anything, that might bring her back. I spy my old guitar. I haven't touched it since we buried Claire. I never was that good, but I can pick out a few tunes. My favorite thing to do with it is to improvise. You can take me or leave me, because I have decided to be me, no matter what. I have been prepared to never go home again, ever."Mom had been through a lot, like me, and she understood more than she could communicate at that moment. "Okay. I don't hate you, and I won't scream at you about this. I am going to take a walk and think things over. I'll be back in a while, okay?" Sure, I'll wait for you here." I said this trying to be as nice as I could. With that she left and was gone about an hour. She came back looking tired. I asked her, "Do you want to go get something to eat?" You go out to eat like this?" She looked a little stunned."Yes," I replied. "I go out like this. I go to class like this. I go to work like this. This is me." I pulled my hair over my left shoulder and held up my hand showing her my painted nails."Do you have friends? Do you date? Do you like men? Do you sleep with them?" She was getting upset again."Yes, I have friends who accept me. I am seeing with someone.
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