By Rebecca Cooper
While we have been given official permission to speculate, it was on the condition that it’s clear that is all we are doing here. We do not know anything, officially or unofficially.
But my best guess is that something was going on as early as last August and the trip to Africa. For one thing, they’d had a fight in Nigeria, and it had that couples vibe all over it. They didn’t make it up until Kenya, either, late at night, when we were having that party in the bush.
Even then, I might not have paid it any mind, but Aunt Sharon and I had a talk that night in our tent.
She and her brother had been jamming with a couple of the village drummers, which was amazing, so we were still a little wired when we finally got into our sleeping bags.
“I can’t believe I got to see that,” I said. “You guys were so good.”
“Not really,” Sharon said. “Michael blew me away, as usual.”
“No, seriously. You could play professionally.”
“No, I couldn’t,” Sharon said. “I’m good but not that good. And, besides, you have to eat, sleep and breathe music to make it in that business. I love music, but not that much. My brother does and that’s one of the reasons he’s successful.”
“That’s like what Uncle Mark says about politics.” Then I couldn’t help myself. “Do you like Uncle Mark?”
“Yes. He’s a good friend.”
“Not that way.”
“Oh, come on, Rebecca. We’re both too mature for that kind of high school nonsense. In fact, it’s time to go to sleep. Good night.”
Funny thing is, she didn’t answer my question, so you kind of have to wonder.