Damage

Chapter 21

I’ll be seeing you, in all the familiar places…

The faint sounds of Billie Holiday crackles from the stereo system of Josh Morrison’s truck and I try hard not to look as uncomfortable as I feel.  Josh is a nice guy, 40% of the time. But when he’s finished off one too many red Solo cups full of beer, it’s hard to tell if he’s a nice guy or not. 

“You remind me of her a lot, you know,” his ever-present Southern accent lacing his voice – something I never fully acquired even after living in Georgia all my life. 

“Who?” I ask, using to the hand-crank to roll down the window just a little bit. 

“Billie Holiday.”

I smile from the side of my mouth and he turns, driving further away from the party at the lake and in the direction of the nearest liquor store 15 minutes away to get more beer that they’ve run out of. 

I quickly glace over at him – his tanned, muscular arms from hours of football hanging relaxed with his hands turning the steering wheel. 

I’ll be seeing you in every lovely summer’s day...

The way he called me baby and dared me to jump into the lake only minutes ago reverbs in my mind, echoing over the doleful voice of Billie Holiday coming from the speakers. 

“Why do you say that?” 

He shrugs. “Something about you. Especially when you’re a little sad.” 

“And when am I a little sad?” I laugh it off. I’m leaving for college in less than 3 weeks and I’m about to live my dream. What’s there to be sad about?

“Lately? All the time.” 

I breathe out a laugh, rolling my eyes, but my smile falters the second I turn away.

“Mia, baby,” his hand rests on my thigh, just brushing the edge of my skirt.

 “Josh -” I start, not sure if I want him to stop, or if I want to kiss him, or cry, or get out of the car. 

I’ve never talked to Josh Morrison, star-quarterback, before tonight and a million thoughts are going through my mind. 

Why are his hands so warm?

Why is his hand on my thigh?

Aren’t we over the speed limit?

Isn’t the liquor store the other way?

Doesn’t he have a girlfriend?

The dark silhouette of the forest flies by, summer air blowing in through the open window that makes the inside of the car feel too hot and too cold at the same time.

 Josh’s hand inches upward and the car accelerates minutially and I can see smoke wafting above the trees less than a mile ahead.

 “Why are you sad?”

I don’t know. I don’t know.

…And when the night is new. I’ll be looking at the moon, but I’ll be seeing you.

*** 

“Well, the summer before eighth grade, after leaving the suburb that I grew up in Philly, we moved to Australia and stayed in Sydney for three years. Then we moved to New York for my junior and senior year.”