Encounter

The cardinal has shown up again on the back porch. I find him early mornings in cold weather, and it always startles me. The black, unblinking eyes. How still he is. Is he dead? is what I always think. But no. He’s just perched there, half scary looking and half comical. He watches me let the dog out and watches me letting the dog back in. I wonder what he is thinking. Am I an enemy to him?

This is the kind of question I have at five o’clock in the morning. I want to say, no, because, why not? Isn’t it kinder to give each other the benefit of the doubt? Yes.

Although sometimes suspicion and dark feelings win out. For example, mornings driving to work when the Starbucks drive thru line winds into the street and keeps me from making the green light. The other day this happened when I was chatting with my daughter, and I am embarrassed to say how long I slammed my hand down on the car horn. The string of bad words coming out of my mouth. You wouldn’t believe it.

Mom! she said. Oh my God, calm down.

And I laughed and vowed to forgive all the idiots in the world. Except, for this one guy in the gift shop at the art museum downtown. Listen to this:

A couple of months ago my husband and I went to the museum and at the end of our visit browsed the gift shop, pausing by a display of Charley Harper merch. Colorful prints and notecards, a set of drinking glasses, each featuring a cardinal, $15.95 a piece. Pricey for a glass, but these were so cool-looking and reminded us of the cardinal on the back porch.

We bought two and the clerk charged us 18.95 for them. These are 15.95, my husband whispered (to me), and I relayed that info to the clerk.

Nope, he said in a hoity-toity tone. They’re 18.95.

Okay, I said. But as soon as we were out the door, my husband was pulling the glasses out of the bag and unwrapping them. They’re 15.95, he said. Look!

I looked. Sure enough. 15.95. Do you want to go back in and show the guy? I said.

No, he said, resigned. I could feel his resignation and wanted to cheer him up. The glasses are fun and it’s only 6 dollars difference. Who cares. He agreed, but when we got home, he peeled the 15.95 price sticker off and stuck it to the wall in the kitchen. A reminder of righteous outrage, I guess, and the things we let go.

The story does not end there.

A few weeks later my husband was out of town, and I had the bright idea to go back to the art museum and buy four more glasses. I went straight to the gift shop, found the glasses, turned each one over to look at the price sticker (15.95), brought them over to the counter and greeted the same clerk, who rang them up as 18.95.

These are 15.95, I said, politely.

No, they’re 18.95, he said, not politely.

Yes, they are, I said. I was starting to sweat. I held a glass toward him and pointed out the price tag.

Hmph, the clerk said. Well, those are marked incorrectly. They’re 18.95.

Except, they’re not.

They are.

I laughed. Are you really going to charge me 18.95? I said.

He didn’t answer. He rang them up and wrapped each one so slowly, I thought I might die. I had to take off my coat I was sweating so much. When he handed me the receipt, I saw the price. He’d gone with 15.95, but apparently didn’t want to admit it. I had a wild thought that I could push him. Tell him he owed me 6 bucks from the last time, but I decided against it. Sometimes I can be the bigger person.

I left the shop and immediately burst out laughing, feeling like I’d gotten away with something, but I don’t know what. A funny story. A set of silly glasses that never stop making me smile.

This morning I sipped water out of one as the dog went out, came in. I peeked at the bird perched on the back porch and raised the glass.

Cheers to you, friend.