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.
Once the signal changes, I turn and head toward Laura’s apartment. I’m thankful she lives so close to the school and to me for that matter. As soon as I pull into the parking lot, I find a spot and park. I’m about to shut off the engine when I see her emerge. This is the moment when I can watch her without looking like a stalker or a creepy professor eyeing his way too hot student. Laura’s wearing blue shorts, probably denim if I had to guess. They don’t look like the shorty short shorts she used to wear back in the day, but they’re similar and they show off her long legs. She descends the stairs and I catch the slight sway of her hips. I swallow hard as she approaches. I think I like this older Laura.
As soon as her T-shirt comes into view, I laugh and shake my head. There’s a slice of watermelon on her shirt and it reads, “Y’all gonna make me lose my rind.”