Barrel* and I were sitting at the bench finishing an omelette with our laptops open, per usual, TV muted. I’d pulled up YouTube, curious to see if I could find a certain Gary Allan song off his new album I wasn’t aware he’d been playing live. When I found it, I hit ‘play’ and we sat for a little while just listening.
This isn’t all that normal; Carey tends to make a little fuss when I put on country music, even though she knows the words to every country song from ’89 – ’03, but hates to admit it. Gary is Southern California country—gritty, dark, melodic, and, at times, painfully real. He wrote ‘No Regrets’ about his wife Angela who took her own life in 2004. This may be a bit heavy, but sometimes life is.
She asked me to check on one of the kids. I said, “I just put them to bed, everyone’s fine. I took care of it all.” She sat there for a minute, and she said, “Would you go get me a Coke? I feel like I’m sick.” So I went into the kitchen and heard a loud pop. It sounded like she had thrown something. I had a gun safe underneath the bed, and she had taken out a pistol, stuck it in her mouth and pulled the trigger. She was on the bed. She was gone.
Carey spoke up then, and said, “Even though I feel like I don’t know much about his music, he strikes me as such a romantic. Am I right about that?” To which I replied, “If there were one country artist it would break my heart for you to not like, it’d be him.”
*Carey is, to those who know her best, Bear, Bearess, Bearino, or, ‘Care Bear’. But it’s her beloved godfather Barry from whom she borrows this name. Or I guess, I borrowed. Cause now it’s hers, too.