I’m sitting in a Trader Joe’s parking lot in a green Subaru. The grey leather inside is still tacky, by the way.
Do you remember when we left that party? It was a Thursday and I hated Thursday’s because the Calvary Baptist book club would come in Wendy’s just as the dinner traffic slowed. So we went to that party at Ronnie’s house. You were only two years old than me but you still reminded me that I was an infant.
We drank too many beers. Natty Lights. Your favorite. Now that I think about it, everything we did was your favorite. Bond was your favorite movie—our first date if you don’t remember. Thai was your favorite food—our third date when I pretended to like it because you did. Punk music was the only sound that come out of your radio. Now that I think about it you never even asked me about my favorite things.
My favorite book. It’s Mansfield Park. My favorite food. Mexican- specifically a quesadilla with so much grease I could swim in it. My favorite song. Chiquitita by ABBA. My favorite flower. Peonies.
It’s the first time I’m in a green Subaru in nine years. Nine years. Maybe you think it’s sad that I’m still thinking of you. Maybe you’re right. Maybe it is sad that I’m thinking of you when Alex ran in to buy us a bottle of my favorite wine—it’s Pinot Grigio. We just went on our second date and we’re going back to his place.
But if your words ever held any weight to them then you’re still thinking of me too. When you get in your car. When you look in the backseat where my innocence is buried deep in the car mats along with gum wrappers and empty bottles of Sprite. When you put on your favorite pair of Doc Martens I bought for you with the last bit of my first paycheck. When you parallel park because each time you did I would shut my eyes.
Maybe I linger just like you do.