No more promises, no more keeping scoreI'm listening to Phish's new album Fuego today. It's streaming on the NPR website and I am being generously humored because it's as good as Hoist and I keep cranking the speakers up louder and louder. PJ already left and Caleb arrived in his place, lured over after hearing the notes floating on the heavy post-rain salt air, bent on more apologies and further reintegration into a broken and disjointed household.
No more wondering what I stay here for
We broke the awkward silence with polite and practiced lies
But we were just preparing our goodbyes
I'm thinking this is perfect sunny-day long road trip music when he says, This is perfect road trip music.
My brain wants to take him in that second and darken his hair and his eyes ever so slightly, give him that slow mean smile that used to be deployed like a weapon and call him Cole but my heart isn't even in good-enough condition to flex and include anyone else, not even Caleb. It's too busted up, too patched-together so instead I tell him that I have plans with Loch for the afternoon and there's Loch now, coming in to the library as if on cue.
Caleb asks Loch what our plans are and Loch screws us both by deferring, saying we don't have any plans today. Caleb feels worse because I lied and I feel worse because not only does Caleb think I lied to him, I know that Loch lied to him just to make both of us feel bad.
Effective.
Also shitty.