Page 88 of Fade into You
I laugh because it’s true. “Me neither.”
The song comes to an end, and I try to be subtle in my suggestion. “You know, I’m kinda in the mood for some Tori.”
“All right,” Jessa says, ejecting the CD and flipping through our massive collective stash. “I’ve got it.” She inserts the new CD and at first I don’t recognize the song, but it’s still familiar—I thought I was pretty much caught up on the Tori Amos discography since we discovered her music is something we share.
“Wait…” I glance over and she’s watching me, mouth slightly open, grinning like she’s waiting for me to catch it. “This is a Joni Mitchell song.”
“Yes! ‘A Case of You’—I knew you’d recognize it! Such a good cover, right?”
“Where did you get this?”
“It was a B-side.”
I’m quiet as I listen, soaking it in.“I remember that time you told me ‘Love is touching souls…’?”
“That’s my favorite line of the whole song,” I tell Jessa.
“Hmm, yeah.”
We sing along together, and I roll my window down so the wind is flowing in. Jessa turns the volume up over the road noise.
As the song starts to come to an end, she’s already searching for her next selection.
“Can we listen one more time?” I ask.
She smiles and puts the song on repeat.
We listen again and sing loud and then quiet and we listenover and over. So many times I lose track, and then I suddenly realize I’ve also lost track of the detour signs. And we’re in the middle of nowhere. I can’t remember the last time we saw a gas station or a street sign of any kind. Just farms and pastures with horses and cows in every direction.
Jessa turns the volume down, reading my mind somehow. “What’s wrong?”
“I think we might really be lost this time.”
“Keep going,” she tells me, not seeming worried. “There…” She’s pointing up ahead on the right side of the road. “Stop there.”
There’s a little wooden booth up close to the road with a hand-painted sign that saysFarm Fresh. “What, at the fruit stand thing?”
“Yeah.”
I pull up slowly into a patch of dirt that serves as a makeshift parking lot. Jessa’s already getting out of the car before I come to a complete stop.
She walks up, all friendly confidence, and the man in the booth is looking at her like she’s an alien with her faded blue hair. She buys us two pears and a bunch of apples and figs and asks for directions.
He directs us ten miles ahead, where we’re to make a left at the gas station and follow that road another five miles. At the gas station, we stop to fill up and take turns using the bathroom.
I pull Daniel’s car around the side of the building and we sit there with doors open, eating our fruit and looking out at the pretty rural landscape, made much more idyllic now that we’re not lost anymore.
“What are you smiling at?” Jessa says, through a mouthful of fig.
“You.”
“Want some?” She offers me the rest.
“No, I’m enjoying watching you eat it.”
She laughs and looks down for a second, then back out at the scenery, the wind blowing her hair across her face.
“Jessa?”
