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I was exhausted. So tired I was sure my feet had divorced my body and whatever stubborn strips of skin that continued to keep the two attached were going to snap the moment I reached my car toward the back of the school parking lot. After missing my lunch break talking to Zenobia, I was on my feet for the rest of the day and every muscle in my body was aching—from my index fingers from pointing, to the very tips of my toes from running around the room. To make matters worse, I’d stayed late, working with a few of the soloists, and it was 6:15 p.m. The sun was still high, though, and it felt like it was sitting right above my forehead. Trying to juggle two heavy bags and a radio I’d carried to work, I thought fainting and rolling under one of the other cars might be a better option than setting my sights on my own car. At least, then, I’d be out of the sun’s spotlight.
“Whew,” I exhaled, finally making my way to the driver’s-side door. Not caring where anything landed, I dropped all of the bags right where I stood and let my shoulders go limp to take a second to catch what little breath of life I had left. When I finally got enough energy to actually bend down to get the keys out of my purse, I noticed that the brightness around me had dulled and thought maybe a cloud had snuck up and covered the sun. If I hustled fast enough and found the keys, I’d be lucky enough to ease into the car before the sun came striking again. No one else was in the teachers’ parking lot, so I was sure it would find me again.
“Nice view,” I heard someone say.
Still bending down, I turned my head to see that the cloud was actually an old pickup truck.
I straightened up quickly, snapping the found keys into the palm of my hand.
“Oh, I’m ...” I covered my brow with my hand, so I could see who was sitting in the truck.
“No need to apologize,” the person said. “That’s exactly what I was looking for.”
I stepped forward and squinted a bit more.
It was Dame. He was grinning and leaning out of the truck window with one hand still on the wheel.
“Excuse me?” I asked as I frantically straightened my skirt.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, smiling, yet apologetic. “Well, I meant it like that ... but I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.”
A bead of sweat trickling down my forehead, I could see the muscles in his arm tighten and flex as he spoke.
“Thanks ... I guess,” I said, trying to sound unaffected—stern, yet calm and not staring at his biceps. “Can I help you with something?”
“Yes, you could,” he said. “I was actually here looking for you. I knew it was late, but you always stay late before graduation.”
His statement caught me off guard. I wondered how he’d remember that.
“For what? I mean, what did you want?”
“Well, we could start with you coming a little closer, so I don’t have to scream my business out over this whole parking lot.”
“Come over there?” I asked, looking around the lot. It was a simple request. But I still felt inside that I needed to stay where I was. Like walking to the truck was wrong in some way. I felt girlish and ridiculous for thinking all of these things.
“Yes,” I said ... looking at his arm and then away. Closer to the truck, I saw that the old, blue thing really did block out the sun. Maybe it was the steel or just the size, but I felt cooler there. Cooler and smaller somehow.
“I wanted you to hear something.” He shifted the gear and put the truck in park. The engine growled and then grunted as if it was threatening to cut off, but then it kept going.
“Hear something?”
“Yeah. Something I think you might like. I’m thinking about putting it on my next album.”
“Dame, I told you I don’t really listen to music like that. Don’t you think you—”
“I’m just trying to get your opinion. That’s all. If you like it, you like it. If not, you don’t. It’s all good.”
“Well, I have to ...” I turned to look at my bags on the ground. “I was on my way home.”
“It’s just one song, Ms. Cash.”
“Mrs. DeLong.”
He smirked slyly.
“Mrs. DeLong,” he repeated.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll listen to the song.”
