There is an unspoken mandate that we alternate calling
each other every night between 4:14-4:30. Every time I call her I swipe off my
glasses and look at myself in my parents mirror and lie on the bed where in all
probability I was conceived, humming out her number in tonal assonance waiting
as she picks up the phone. Other days the phone will vibrate and one of my
sisters will pick up then carol out my name that I have a phone call knowing
the name of the voice fluttering on the other end. Exactly one-third of the
time Renae calls she has just arrived home after band practice and she has
either Amy or Laura in her room.
Apparently her bedroom is painted pink and there is a
life size poster of James Dean.
Renae heavily insinuates again that she wants to see a scary
movie.
“The thing
is when you go to a scary movie with your boyfriend and you get scarred they
always hold you tighter.”
I make an ill-timed joke asking Renae if the scariest movie
our good friend david Best ever too her to was Ernest goes to camp. Renae lets
out a soprano like smirk.
“He just
wasn’t the romantic type.”
The green Gideon bible is always lodged in my right
pocket.
Inside it I keep a picture of Renae Holiday.
I am in love with Jesus.
I am in love with Renae Holiday.
Life is good.
No comments:
Post a Comment