Despite what she had to do to get there, Lisa had an amazing time at the beach. The sand was warm and the beer was cold. Lisa loved the cool bubbly burn she felt in the back of her throat of the first cold one going down. With Rod and his friends, there was always a never-ending supply of cold beer. This was definitely one benefit of having a boyfriend old enough to buy, and since he liked to drink as much, if not more, than Lisa, having enough was rarely a problem. Of course there were problems that arose from excessive drinking and drugs, but not today.
“Not today.” Lisa thought, “Today was perfect.”
She was proud of herself for keeping it cool today, resisting that urge to drink hard and fast – keeping pace with the boys. No, Lisa was feeling that perfect buzz; just enough not to care. The feeling she spent most days and nights chasing. For her it’s a whirling sensation – sleepy yet stimulating – like she could take on a tiger attack, but then barely lift her arm to turn the radio station.
Like a distant sound through the fog, Lisa became aware of REO Speedwagon coming out of the speakers:
You're thinking up your white lies
You're putting on your bedroom eyes
You say you're coming home, but you won't say when
But I can feel it coming
If you leave tonight, keep running
And you need never look back again
“Oh no, no, no! Not this song.” Lisa thought, “I need to change it.” Those lyrics are sure to bring up bad history with Rod – history she didn’t want to deal with today – history that could spoil this pristine day. Lisa lifted her heavy arm to deject the tape, but then she felt the pain on her shoulder.
“What are you doing? What’s the matter with you?” Rod responded.
“I wanted to change the tape.” Lisa replied. “Wouldn’t you rather listen to the new Journey tape you bought last week?”
“My car, my music, and I want to hear this song,” Rod spitted out as he puffed up his chest. “But that’s not the point. What’s wrong with your arm?”
“I don’t know,” Lisa replied defensively. “I think I got too much sun or something. My shoulders hurt.”
Rod turned his head to look in Lisa’s direction and saw the bright redness of her neck and shoulders. He reached over to put a hand on her. Lisa recoiled from his touch, then winced in pain from the movement.
“What’s your problem? I just wanted to check the heat of your skin! That sunburn looks bad.” Rod protested.
“I’m fine. It’s just a little sunburn. It will hurt if you to touch me” she explained, and then put on her best pouty face.
Rod looked over at her again, but this time he had a mischievous twinkle in his eye; “Why don’t you take your shirt off? So you don’t irritate your skin,” he suggested.
“What? No! People will see me!” Lisa protested.
Lisa felt the anger welling up inside her chest, pushing on her rib cage, and threatening to explode like an unruly tempest. This was not good. This will not go well. After all the effort she’d put into this day – she was not going to let Rod ruin it for her.
“So? Don’t be paranoid,” Rod continued with increasing intensity. “Nobody’s going to see, and even if they did, who cares? C’mon – do it for me.”
“FUCK YOU!” Lisa screamed.
This came out much, much louder than she intended. Maybe it was the beer, or maybe it was the hot summer sun that pushed her to scream so loud, but it didn’t matter. Lisa knew at that moment she’d crossed the line. She pushed to far and there would be a price to pay. What happened next, Lisa did not expect.
Rod slammed on the breaks. The Camaro’s tires squealed and chattered, and came perilously close to leaving the pavement. Instead, the car stopped abruptly with its ass end still out on the empty road.
“Get out! Now!” Rod demanded.
In a split second, Lisa considered her options. Suddenly stone cold sober, she made a decision. She was out in the middle of a long country road. She felt its familiarity, but had to admit she had no idea where they were. The sun was beginning its slow decline into the horizon, and she felt the delicate promise of the cold night air. Lisa then looked at Rod and remembered who he could be when the booze, jealousy, and insecurity took hold. Like a child gripping a prized toy, Rod smothered what he loved with unbridled oppression. For once, she chose the unfamiliar freedom over her known captivity. Lisa called Rod’s bluff, got out of his car, and slammed the heavy car door shut with all her might. She turned and walked down the roadside, heading out the opposite direction from the Camaro’s prior trajectory. Rod promptly drove off, tires spitting and squealing with finality, and Lisa breathed a sigh of relief as the distance between her and his car grew larger.
Lisa walked along the road and let the anger escape through her pores. Fortunately, when she heard the familiar bumpy cam muffler music of the returning Camaro, there was enough beer bravado left in her system to keep the fear of being on a strange road in the approaching twilight at bay. Rod’s red Camaro had a distinct muffler sound. He’d explained this was from the bumpy cam he self-installed, and of course, this was a source of great pride for this child of a man. Lisa had spent plenty of time listening to the sound of this car to recognize the sound of its return, well before she saw it in the horizon.
In the distance, Lisa noticed an old red barn not too far from the road. She made a path through the waist high weeds to the barn and found herself entering the wide-open doorway. Aside from a couple of hay bales, the barn was empty. Lisa sat down on one of the bales and peered through the gaps between the barn wall slats. From there, she watched as Rod drove slowly past the barn. She knew he was looking for her and wondered if he’d consider the barn as her point of refuge. Over the next hour, she saw the car pass four times, slowly along the strip of road where he told her to get out. Each time he passed, Lisa reflexively held her breath with one part fear and one part giddy excitement. It was an unfamiliar sensation for this mostly submissive adolescent. Eventually, the drive-bye searches stopped, and Lisa felt her breathing normalize.
Lisa was tired now, and the promised night air ascended with its companion of darkness. She had no plan and was in no condition to make one. Her head was still swimming with the reverberations of alcohol consumed on an empty stomach in the summer heat, and all she could think to do was sleep. Thankfully, Lisa had grabbed her sweatshirt before exiting the car. She laid it out on two of the hay bales and bunched up the hood to form a makeshift pillow. Lisa closed her eyes and tried to ignore the creepy barn sounds, and the creepy barn smells. Eventually she drifted into a fitful sleep.
To be continued …
In spite of it all and ... (🎶 in spite of our selfs 🎶) ... I/you/we got this sh!t. Just sayin’. Thank you Sister! Appreciate you.