Page 50 of Hauling Ashe

Permanent ink will make such a small mark on these classic Cadillacs, but I follow Mae’s lead. The stench is acidic with both animal droppings and aerosol, but we make our way to the first car and Mae hands me a marker. Wandering from car to car, she finds a small space on each one and signs her name adding a quote from a notebook she pulled from her bag.

Though she be but little she is fierce.

Nevertheless, she persisted.

The words are motivational, and while the first is classic Shakespeare and the second is modern women’s movement, Mae also has a few song lyrics. One of them I recognize.

“I’ll find you on the open road.” Wait for me is the next line and Lawson Colt’s voice echoes in my head.

“Why did you pick this one?” I ask Mae wondering if she had a crush on Lawson as many girls did when we were in our early twenties.

Mae shrugs as she does. “I like that song.”

The idea strikes to write other lyrics.

My heart is an hourglass and yours the sand,

but I won’t let you slip away.

Time stands still as I long for you,

but I won’t let you slip away.

You’re the song in my head.

You’re the hope I hold for one day, one way.

And I won’t let you slip away.

Stepping back, I stare at the lyrics, wondering what inspired me to write them. What had I been thinking at nineteen when the song came to me? Why had I forgotten it? Is it possible I wrote this song for this very moment, for this very woman? The thought seems absurd and a bit deep, yet I stare at the words before looking at Mae, smiling to herself as she moves on to another Cadillac. I don’t need to mark them all. I’ll only mark this one that was the year of my birth, a time when cars were big and people took road trips, searching for something. Or maybe someone.

Mae comes back to me and stares at the words I’ve written. I step forward and sign my name, the once-familiar autograph returning. The scribble is almost illegible with a capital T and a swooping A.

“If you could leave your mark on the world, what would it be?” she asks, staring at the cars covered by decades of graffiti. Somehow, I don’t think she means literally decorating old vehicles but something more monumental. Something long lasting.

“I’d want to write a song that everyone sings.”

Mae smiles. “Music is the universal language. Not everyone needs to sing your song. If you only touch one heart, you’ve made your mark.”

I turn to Mae, who is so good inside. She deserves my final secret and I nod at the car.

“I’m Tucker Ashe. I was in the band Colt45, and I wrote that song.” I turn away from her, staring at the lyrics, now permanently printed on a classic Cadillac. “The one I played last night, called ‘Sand,’ I haven’t played since I quit the band.”

Mae looks up at me, staring with her mouth agape before she punches my arm. “Get out.”

I turn my gaze back to her. “It’s true. My stage name was Tucker Ashe. Ash with an e. Not very original and not inconspicuous enough to distinguish me from my family, but that’s who I was when my father got a girl pregnant, and my parents died. When my grandfather called, I left my rock star dreams behind.”

Mae continues to stare at me, eyes wide then brows pinching.

“That’s my last secret, Mae. There aren’t any more.”

When she doesn’t say anything, I tip up my chin. “I’ll meet you by the car. Take your time here.” If she wants to mark every one of them, if that makes her feel memorialized forever, she can have her time in the limelight. I had mine for the blink of an eye.

22

Playlist: “Kiss Me” – Sixpence None the Richer

[Mae]