Said Friend 1 to me once over merlot at Gioco. I think of this often, like when Friend 2 announces she’s getting married, making me the last of our group not to be.

I think of this when the first dress goes over her head, and Friend 2 looks so beautiful I pause. Discussing details, her groom-to-be turns a little green and she pats his hand smiling.

Friend 1 tells me anyone can be married, have children, own a house, run a business. Why be just anyone she says, when you can be someone?

Friend 1 goes on to say that I’m a peacock while others are pigeons. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a pigeon she says. Pigeons are honorable creatures. You’re just a peacock she says. Why do you want to be a pigeon!

I can think of plenty of reasons not to be a peacock I say. What will my mother tell her friends? At parties, small talk stops when people find out what I am. Pigeons are puzzled by peacocks I say.

Let them be puzzled she says. You are a beautiful Indian Blue!

But I’ve lived my whole life among pigeons I say. I don’t know how to live as a peacock. I’m scared of peacocks. I am a pigeon!

Friend 3 tries to solve the problem. You are neither peacock nor pigeon she says, but a combination. Something like a jackalope she says, you’re not one or the other.

What “one” or “the other” was, Friend 3 didn’t say.

Still, the pigeons and I know something’s not right. Am I then a robin among sparrows? Close to passing, with this bright red burning I keep trying to hide.