"He might as well have been," he said, admiring the way her eyes crinkled as she tried to understand. Then he explained. He told her about his mother and her fondness for the actor. He told her about his black and white life. And he told her about the recent metamorphosis brought on by the strange red liquor.
In turn, she told him about growing up in the small Mexican village of Hermosa somewhere in the Sonoran Desert with a family of thirteen in a two-room adobe. She'd run away from home when she was fifteen because of her brothers and the other boys in the village. She hadn't wanted to be a mother so young. She'd been taken in by a priest and later, at his insistence, had moved into the dormitory at Our Lady of the Sacred Heart where she'd eventually taken her vows and become a Bride of Christ.
"What happened? You're not a nun now, are you?"
"No more," she'd sighed. "We are kindred spirits, you and I. God has broken both of our hearts."
With that she'd stood and told him that she had to get back to work. Buoyed by her attention, he'd complied, no longer feeling sorry for himself. Before he left, he got her phone number.
He promised to call.
She told him she looked forward to it.
Once outside, the huge illuminated, blue and red letters of the K–Mart faded once again to a dull gray. As the color disappeared, so did his excitement. By the time he trudged the eight miles back to Sunken City, the spark she'd ignited in his chest had become an ember. It was so hard to want to be a part of a world that kept so much of itself hidden.
Cary called her the next day.
They met at a Fatburger – a distinctly California fast-food franchise that bragged about its lack of sprouts and humus and was proud of its megalithic caloric content.
He'd been in such a rush, he'd forgone Momma Desta's Swan's Sorrow. When Miranda arrived, she smiled and embraced him. They ordered, found a corner booth and ate. They spoke about mundane things as if they were a husband and wife recounting the items of the day.
Cary found it a lusterless meal lacking in everything meaningful. Her emerald eyes were the same gray as the fat dripping from the burger. Her clothes were a scant shade darker. The conversation was flat and he couldn't find a way to enliven it. The spark failed to rekindle. They said their good-byes and parted ways. She returned to her sister's home in Carson, and he to Momma Desta's.
Several drinks later, he discovered the color goldenrod. Even later, umber. Finally, he realized what he'd lost. The Swan's Sorrow had rekindled the spark. He was almost mindless in his misery when Momma Desta finally came to him.
"Why so low down?" she asked, leaning both elbows onto the counter.
"I found love and lost it."
"Nonsense. You can't lose love. You can throw it away or you can ignore it or let it die, but you can't lose it."
"Either way, it's gone."
"Nonsense."
"No," he sighed heavily. "It's the truth. I found this girl last night…"
"Last night? After you left here?"
"Yes. We talked. We felt something special. I've never felt anything like it before."
"And tonight?"
"The feeling was gone."
Momma Desta nodded her head slowly. She stood her full height and smoothed the wrinkles from her dress. "Las night, what color were her eyes?"
Cary couldn't help but smile as he remembered their sparkle. "Emerald," he said with a sigh.
"And tonight?"
Cary's smile fell. "Nothing. Gray. Whatever."
"Aw my black and white Movie Star, you should have come to Momma Desta before your date tonight." She placed one of her immense warm palms against his cheek and shook her head. "You've done something that can't hardly be undone now."
"What do you mean?"
"Don't you see? You opened the door to another world last night. The Swan's Sorrow was the key that unlocked the door to a world of color and light and showed you to this woman with the emerald eyes. Then tonight you ignore the Swan's Sorrow and try to enter the world with no key. How can you date this woman if you are in one world and she's in another?" She shook her head and poured him another drink of Swan's Sorrow.
He stared imploringly.
"Give her this night to think. Tomorrow come by and get your key, open the door and step