Maybe you meet Jess there. The barrens. It's getting dark. She drove. You didn't have a car. Or you used to have one but it's broken down. Sitting out front of the house waiting for someday when it will make sense to fix the car. It's possible this day will never come.
"hey." Jess says from her perch on the hood of her '89 Dodge Cavalier.
"Hey."
"Didn't think you'd ever get here."
"Long walk." Hands in your pockets. You kick the dirt.
"I would've given you a ride."
"Cool."
"But you gotta ask."
"right."
Cause you didn't ask. You didn't want her to pull up in your driveway. You didn't want the attention from the various adults who were sitting around the yard drinking beer. You didn't want her to see the deteriorating house you lived in.
"So. You ever been out here before?" She asks. She's got her sandy blond hair up in a pony tail. Wisps escape all around her face. When the wind catches them they get caught in her mouth and she has to extricate them by spitting them out. When that doesn't work she uses her hands.
"Oh. Once. Long time ago." This is a lie. But you don't know what to expect really. You don't know that she's already comfortable with you. You don't see that she's got her guard down, that her eyes are open and her body is loose. You don't see this because you are not accustomed to that kind of easy acceptance. One without hurdles. Without tests.
"hey." Jess says from her perch on the hood of her '89 Dodge Cavalier.
"Hey."
"Didn't think you'd ever get here."
"Long walk." Hands in your pockets. You kick the dirt.
"I would've given you a ride."
"Cool."
"But you gotta ask."
"right."
Cause you didn't ask. You didn't want her to pull up in your driveway. You didn't want the attention from the various adults who were sitting around the yard drinking beer. You didn't want her to see the deteriorating house you lived in.
"So. You ever been out here before?" She asks. She's got her sandy blond hair up in a pony tail. Wisps escape all around her face. When the wind catches them they get caught in her mouth and she has to extricate them by spitting them out. When that doesn't work she uses her hands.
"Oh. Once. Long time ago." This is a lie. But you don't know what to expect really. You don't know that she's already comfortable with you. You don't see that she's got her guard down, that her eyes are open and her body is loose. You don't see this because you are not accustomed to that kind of easy acceptance. One without hurdles. Without tests.
