When Laura cut off all ties, I knew it was because of Shawn and not something she decided on her own. She doesn’t have a mean bone in her body and wouldn’t say boo if you paid her. He, on the other hand, was that guy everyone either liked or hated. The one that would walk down the hall, make fun of someone, and get everyone around him to do the same. I loathe people like him.
The water finally turns warm and I start to relax. There’s so much tension in my shoulders and back that I do everything I can to loosen up. Still, as my fingers dig into my skin, flashbacks of my dream about Laura flood my mind. I don’t get where these visions are coming from. I’ve never seen her naked, let alone kissed her. It’s not that I haven’t wanted to, it’s that I never wanted to jeopardize our friendship. Maybe if I had—because the opportunities were there many, many times—things would be different between us.
I give up on the shower when the water turns cold again. I’m tempted to see if I can get another hour of sleep in the guest bedroom, but ultimately decide the couch is better. I slip into a clean pair of boxers and make my way downstairs. Soon, the weather is going to change, and I’ll have the woodstove going to keep the cabin warm. Until then, I pull a throw blanket from the decorative basket my mother set near the couch and cover up with it. I turn the television on and flip through the channels. There’s a ton of infomercials, trying to sell me beauty products, household cleaners, and machines meant to tighten my buttocks to make them firm. Pass, pass, and thanks but no thanks. I finally settle on a classic TV channel, turn down the volume and close my eyes. I figure the background noise will be enough to keep my naughty visions of Laura at bay.
No such luck.
I end up staring at the television until it’s time to get moving. I never told Laura what time I’d pick her up and I’m assuming she doesn’t have class today or she would’ve told me so, and I never thought to ask. Although, knowing Laura, she would skip class just to go to the Watermelon Festival. It used to be our favorite thing to do, and always on opening day. That’s when the funnel cakes are the biggest and the watermelon is the freshest.
Now that I’m awake, I transfer my wash into the dryer, get dressed and send Laura a text while I make myself some breakfast and a pot of coffee.
Hello, Laura. It’s Jude. I wanted to check and see if you still wanted to go to the festival today, and if so, what time? I forgot to ask if you had classes today.
Every second I wait increases my anxiety and I don’t know why. She said she wants to go, and I told her I’d pick her up, which reminds me, I’ll need her address as well. I have to set my phone down because it’s like a watched pot and I know if I sit here and wait for it to ring, it never will.
I’m away from the table for a couple seconds when my phone chimes. I rush back, like a teenage boy getting that first call from his crush and gouge my thigh on the corner of my kitchen table.
“Son of a southern fried chicken biscuit,” I say aloud. My censorship game is usually reserved for the classroom.
Laura Parrish: Hey, Jude… No classes today, pick me up whenever you’re ready. I live in the apartments across from the main entrance, 5b!
I’m on my way. I text back, even though I’m not anywhere near being ready. I should comb my unruly hair or at least stop for a haircut at one of those drop-in places, but truthfully, I’m eager to see her, to have her next to me. It’s been a long time since we’ve been together like this.
The drive down the mountain happens in record time. I think I only came off four wheels once or twice, maybe three times when I took a curve a bit too sharply and at a high rate of speed, but no one was around to witness my atrocious and highly dangerous driving. When I reach solid pavement, I breathe a sigh of relief. I can’t recall a single time I ever drove like a maniac down that road.
“Not too bright,” I mutter as I pull up to the stop light. I glance to my right and notice a student of mine. I turn away before she has a chance to make eye contact. The last thing I want is for her or anyone for that matter to start some rumor about my crazy driving techniques.