deadly nightshade | fever in, fever out

chapter 86: somewhere upstate

The next day, Sam knocked on Bill's door during her lunch break. She figured that it was best to merely get it all out of the way before she moved onto the real important work, like her homework for her general classes and the suggestion that she and Belinda needed to make for leather crafting. Meanwhile, Belinda herself had told her to meet up with her and Marla right around then: she hoped that this meeting would remain quick and concise lest she miss a lunch hour with her best girl friends.
"Come on in," he called out from behind the panel; and she opened the door to find that he had not a single leaf of paper or a book to find be found anywhere on the surface of his desk. He did however signed onto something on the page before him on his lap. He then raised his head for a look over at her.
"Miss Shelley!" he declared at the sight of her, and he gestured to the chair before the desk. "Have a seat."
She took her purse off of her shoulder and rested it on her lap once she had sank down in that wobbly chair. She shuffled her feet underneath her and she peered all around her: it had been only one of a handful of times that she had gone into his office. The other times she had gone into there for an appointment it was to sign up for classes or check up on her grant, and thus her heart pounded at the thought of something possibly serious happening there in the office.
"So what'd you want me to do for the senior project?" she began.
"Well, I figure that since—you're doing excellent in your classes," he started, and he tucked the page away in his drawer in front of him, "that you could have a little sneak peek into it. I think it can genuinely get you ahead of the curve of everyone else."
Sam shifted her weight in her seat. This had come onto her so fast that it almost felt like a betrayal of everything that she had worked for, and it also made her realize that school was about to end soon: another year and she would be out on her own as far as she knew, and she wondered what on earth she could do with an art degree besides working at a record label, where she kept her art closeted away from the world and those curious about it. But then again, Bill was her counselor: he helped out with signing up for new classes prior to the new quarter each and every time like clockwork: she never really put too much thought into it, either. Always a pop in and then she was out with a brand new schedule in a manner of five or ten minutes.
But perhaps he had some insight into it all at the end when the time came for her to walk across that stage.
"When do you think we can do it?" she asked him in a low voice.
"Well, I'm thinking that—since this is your junior year—" He pointed his finger down at the desk's surface, and she spotted a big fat golden ring on his pinky finger, something she had never seen before her in life. "—it won't be until next summer, the summer prior to your senior year. And I found out that it's next August."
"Oh, wow. So plenty of time to figure it out."
"Absolutely, absolutely. There's just one tiny little drawback, though."
"What's that?"
Bill cleared his throat.
"I'm gonna need you to come with me out to California for it," he said in a low voice, to which she frowned at that.
"With you?"
"Yes. Because I'm your counselor and also the driving force behind it."
"And we have to actually go out to California, too?" she demanded, stunned. "Like—actually have to pick up everything and move to a new coast?"
"Yes. How long, I don't know. But it's part of the project, though."
Sam let out a long low whistle. On one hand, it made sense to her. She had been wanting a change of pace and a break away from the tedium of going to school and checking in at work every other week. But then again, she had pitched a tent in New York City. This was her home, the place to call her own. To leave now would be insanity, and so soon after she had moved into the new apartment in Hell's Kitchen with Marla.
"Is—there a problem?" he gingerly asked her.
"Well—see, I just moved to a new place, not even a couple of months ago. I'm also just getting settled in, too. I would have to pick up again and take Marla with me."
"Marla's got her own thing to deal with—this is between you and me, though. You are my star student and potentially a great artist who can be seen for centuries, Miss Shelley." Sam squirmed in her seat when she thought about how closeted her art truly was in comparison to what Bill had seen in the past. As far as she knew, he only saw that one journal she had made in order to get into the school, thus it felt so sudden and so quick as well.
"Again, it's a ways off," he continued, "but it's definitely something that I wish to do. With you. You have the Midas' touch, Miss Shelley. Whenever I speak with Miss Estes, she always praises you. And thus, I would love to work with you some day."
She swallowed and nodded her head. At least she could trust the word of one of her long time teachers, and the one who organized the nude drawing of Cliff in the year before, too. But at the same time, something about the whole thing made her squirm in her seat. Maybe it was the lack of anything important on his desk or the huge ring on his finger never seen before, but something didn't feel right. Something she couldn't quite put her finger on.
"Tell you what," he started again as he folded his hands over the overly clean surface of the desk, "I will sit in with you in one of your classes this semester—and I will make observations. And if you are fit enough for it, we can talk more about it. Because you don't look very comfortable right now, and I want you to be comfortable."
She thought of all the things she had said to Joey before, all about him being comfortable. But at the same time once more, she had to trust him and take his word for it.
"When do you plan on doing that?" she asked him.
"What, sitting in?"
"Yeah."
"I'm thinking closer to Halloween or somewhere around then. You know, so you're in the midst of it."
"You're not gonna tell me what date, though, are you?"
"I want it to be a surprise," he insisted, and that coaxed a chuckle out of her, albeit a nervous one; but he never changed his expression once for her. "But I will in fact do it, though."
"Okay. So—I'll be on the lookout for you?"
"Now, now, you do that, you put yourself up for scrutiny and you hinder yourself all the while. I want to see you free flowing in your creativity. I want to see you in your element."
She then sighed through her nose and relaxed her shoulders a bit, which she realized she had been hunching that whole time. She shifted her weight again, that time to relieve the pressure on her back.
"But I'll still be ready for you, though," she insisted.
"Of course! I look forward to it, Miss Shelley." He extended his hand for her and she took it for herself: his grip was rather lax, but not limp like a floating fish; thus it made her feel as though she was the one too strong. They stood their feet in unison and she turned a bit towards his desk: she spotted a framed photograph tucked away right behind him, one she had never seen before of two young girls, one with rich black hair and one with towheaded blonde hair.
"Never seen that picture before," she pointed out, and he turned around to it.
"Oh, yeah! Those are my daughters—Matilda and Cassandra. Mattie and Cassie, if you will."
She paused for a second.
"Wait, I didn't know you had kids," she pointed out, to which he shrugged.
"They—kind of have a life of their own with their birth mother. I haven't been able to see them since they were born."
"Oh, I see."
"I just have this picture of them, but sometimes it's—a little hard to look at. So I always make sure to sit in front of it because—it can—it can hurt at times."
She tilted her head to the side. Maybe she was wrong about him, especially if the despondent look upon his face was anything to go by.
"Where do they live?" she asked him.
"Out in California, believe it or not. Los Angeles area—and your neck of the woods believe it or not. Around Lake Elsinore."
"Wow!" She raised her eyebrows at him. "Wouldn't it be something if you got to see them again, though? You know, during the project?"
"Yeah," he softly said, and the look of despondency turned into one of thoughtfulness, "yeah, it definitely would be something." He fell silent for a moment, and then he cleared his throat. "Well, I have a couple more people to talk to and a phone call I have to make."
"Okay—I'm supposed to be meeting Marla and Belinda for lunch right now."
"Say 'hi' to those two girls for me," he called after her as she left the office.
She kept the whole thing in mind for the rest of the day, and in turn for the rest of the week until she remembered that she and Joey would have the weekend all to themselves. On that Friday afternoon, and when Marla still had one more class left to her helm, she took her seat on the couch right before the coffee table and in front of the usual spot Genie liked to lay on. She leaned back against the cushions and she wondered what exactly he had in mind for those next two days.
She gazed on at that vase on the table, the one that held those yellow tulips. To think that she and Belinda had crafted a series of tulips on Alex's new leather strap. It felt like something right out of a dream, or something that felt like a pure coincidence on Belinda's part. She probably didn't even mean to engrave tulips, however, it felt so obvious to Sam.
She lifted her attention to the shelf on the side of the room, where Marla had put the other square black and white box for the time being.
Inside of that box was that guitar strap that she and Belinda had made for him for his birthday. On the thirteenth, not the next Tuesday but the Tuesday after that, he would turn twenty seven, and the day after Columbus Day no less. Such a strange, faraway number to be, as if life was about to start and end at the same time, and following the date of the man who sailed the ocean blue and pitched a tent on the land of the Indians. The world of the Indians, left to their own whim against him.
She wondered if he would have the same reaction to the guitar strap as Alex did. There was so much she still hadn't figured out with Joey yet, and there behind him stood a whole other world, one that awaited her touch and her artistry. She could bring him to life through her own imagination, but then again, there had to be something more to him. She could guess all that she wanted with her own mind and by the stroke of her own pencil and her black inks.
There stood before her a real man with a full life story, almost twenty seven years worth of it, and she had merely uncovered a small sliver of it. He had a story to tell and one that she was willing to crawl upon for herself. One that she wanted to bring to life through her art.
Sam closed her eyes and thought of Joey himself. Those black curls as they swirled and waved behind his head like the tentacles of an octopus. His slender body wrapped in silken black leather and his large drummer hands tucked into those pockets against the cold bitter winds from the black waters of Lake Ontario. The man was art to her, art and a story that needed to be told to the rest of the world.
Sam was shaken out from her trance by a continuous knock on the door panel. She scrambled to her feet and she threw it open, and there before her stood Joey himself in those snug dark jeans and those black Chuck Taylors tied tight on his feet. His black curls were brushed right behind his head: they glistened under the soft hazy sunlight out there beyond the apartment building. She almost expected to find a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a corsage in lieu of that silver bracelet on his wrist.
"Hi," she greeted him, and he leaned forward for the kiss on the side of her neck.
"Hi," he returned the favor, complete with a warm welcoming smile on his face. His brown eyes shone with life and his dark skin was smooth and healthy.
"Oh, my god, you look excellent," she remarked to him. "Like, healthy."
"It's what I get for abstaining from the booze for the past few weeks," he told her. "I'm not even gonna touch it again."
"Good! That's excellent, Joey." He then strode into the apartment and ran his fingers through his black curls. "Just realized this is only the second time I've come to your new place. I mention this 'cause it actually took me a little bit to figure out, but—"
"Here you are," she declared as she gestured for him to have a seat on the couch next to her, and he did just that: he spread his legs a little bit to ease the tightness of his jeans on the upper part of his thighs.
"Now, mind you—this is the last weekend I'm gonna be able to spend time with you," he told her. "On Sunday night, I gotta get on the next red eye and fly up to Oslo from Syracuse."
"Oslo! For the European stint of the tour, I presume."
"Yup, going all the way to Christmas and the girls—the Cherry Suicides—are gonna be with us, too. I guess Metallica is gonna be out there with us, too, at some point. Just not sure when. Charlie knows about it more than I do. And I will say this, though: I'm gonna spend my birthday in Germany, too."
"Lucky you," she remarked with a smirk on her face. "Would you like something to eat or drink before we go upstate?"
"Actually I was thinkin' of spending the night here tonight if you and Marla don't mind," he confessed. "I was gonna tell ya at Alex's birthday party the other day but y'know—there was like no time to do it."
"Right, right. Well, she's still at school but when she gets home, we can run it by her together." She then cleared her throat. "Well, seeing as you're gonna be in a far away place for the next bunch of weeks, I might as well give you your birthday present."
"Oh, boy!" he said with an excited clap of the hands. Sam then turned to the shelf, and took the box off of there, and handed it to him.
"Happy unbirthday," she told him, and he couldn't resist the chuckle at that. Unlike Alex's neat unraveling, Joey peeled back the paper at the corner of the box like a banana peel and revealed the cardboard interior. Eager, he took off the lid and he raised his eyebrows at what was inside there.
"A belt?" he asked her.
"Guitar strap. When Bel and I were making the one for Alex, we made one for you right next to it."
"Oh my god," he breathed out as he lifted the strap right out from its hiding place and set the box off to the side, right on the cushion next to him. His brown eyes caressed over those colorful engravings like a young boy at Christmas.
"First thing I'm doin' when we go back to Camillus is putting this right onto my guitar," he vowed to her. "This is just—this is beyond beautiful."
Sam took two steps towards him with her arms wide open and he held her close right there.
She then held back for a better look back at him.
"By the way, I've been meaning to ask you this," she started, and he gazed up at her with a look of interest on his face, "—why did you pick up a guitar from Dave, but not from Alex? As far as I know and as far as you know, Dave isn't the one who took lessons from Joe Satriani." And at the drop of the hat, his expression hardened at the sound of Alex's name.
"'Cause Dave doesn't wave it in my face all the time," he grumbled.
"What do you mean?" she asked with a shake of her head.
"You know, that time when Alex and I got in that scuffle? Like, right before that happened, literally every other word out of his mouth was 'Satriani this' and 'Satriani that' and it got on my nerves so fast."
"Well, maybe he was just proud of it," she pointed out. "Maybe he was trying to give himself credibility. I know I would've done the exact same."
Joey rolled his eyes and shook his head at that. The wound was still very much raw with him, but she didn't want Joey to take her upstate and then have him leave for Europe on a sour note like what happened with Cliff.
Within time, Marla returned to the apartment with a mountain of homework on her end, which left Sam and Joey to their own devices for the night. She was overjoyed when he talked about spending the night with them before he took Sam back upstate with him for a day. She thought about his guitar back at his place, and also if there really was something more to him.
She gazed on at him from the side of the kitchen table as they ate their dinner, right at his side profile, and she thought of the drawing in her journal. More to that man than she had ever believed before. More to the world behind those deep brown irises: that venom originated from somewhere on the earth.
Genie slunk into the room with her tail erect straight from her body and she rubbed on Joey's legs. He reached down so as to stroke the top of her head and she squinted her golden eyes at the feeling of his fingers on her soft black fur. Sam took a glimpse up at the warm little smile on his face as Genie slunk around his ankles and bumped her head right under his knee: all the while, she gave him a loud, contented purr. So much more to this man than she had originally believed before.
After dinner, he helped her and Marla clear the table, and the latter went back into her room to prepare her essay for a class.
"It's only five hundred words, though," she assured them.
"Five hundred words?" Joey echoed her as he refilled his glass of water from the pitcher in the fridge. "Wish I could write that much, to be perfectly honest."
"Yeah, you can do it, Marla," Sam encouraged her. Marla then showed her a smile and she doubled back into her bedroom: she left the door slightly ajar in any which case of them needing her for something, or if Genie wanted to join her in there. Meanwhile, Joey drank down his water in four large gulps and then he turned to Sam with a twinkle in his eye.
"Wanna get some ice cream?" he offered her in a low voice.
"Ice cream?" She gaped at him. "It's kinda late, though, don't ya think?"
"Not at all," he replied, still with his voice low. "The first time Anthrax went overseas with Metallica and Metal Church we ate ice cream all the time. Well, Danny and I did. We'd go to some place in West Germany and just chow down on the lush ice cream they had there for us."
"And it is Friday, too," she pointed out.
"It is Friday, and I'm leaving Sunday night, too. Yeah, let's take a walk down the block. You and me."
Sam was about to take her purse off of the hook when Joey stopped her right in her tracks.
"No, no—I'll pay this time."
"Hey, you've actually got money now!" she proclaimed as she fixed her dark hair.
"Hell yeah, I do. It's only gonna get even better with time, too." He gave her a wink and then he led her outside to the cool, overcast evening. A gentle breeze was blowing through the apartment complexes surrounding them there in Hell's Kitchen: indeed, up the block stood an ice cream parlor, still open just for them.
"You know those songs that Scott left behind for us?" he recalled over the noise of the street. "The ones Charlie shared with us during the auditions?"
"Oh, yeah. Vaguely."
"During the birthday party, he told me to go ahead and put those down on the new album."
"You guys are already working on a new album?" she asked him with a bit of glee.
"Yeah, we kinda haveta," he replied as he moved closer to her on the sidewalk. "Right before Alex left to go upstate, Jon told us that Among the Living is going crazy on the charts right now. We're kinda superstars now, Sam."
"Pretty soon, you'll do a collaboration with Madonna and Prince!" she joked, and he laughed at that.
"I dunno 'bout Madonna, but Prince would be rad as all hell, though."
Soon, they reached the ice cream shop and he held the door for her. It was the first time Sam had gone into this place as well, and thus the smell of chocolate and fresh sprinkles welcomed her as if it welcome her home. Joey offered to buy the two of them two large cups of chocolate and vanilla ice cream: him with the rainbow jimmies on top, and her with the big fat chocolate caps.
"Some day we'll have all the ice cream at our every whim," he promised her as he raised his cup to her, and she clinked the edge of hers against it for a toast. They both dug into their ice cream in unison. Rich and creamy and velvety against her tongue, and the chocolate was perfectly hand in hand with the vanilla and the chips on top.
"Not just all the ice cream in the world but the chocolate as well," she told him as they stood outside on the sidewalk together. They proceeded to walk on back to the apartment; before they reached the corner, Joey cleared his throat.
"Can I ask you sump'n? Seeing as you're officially my girlfriend now."
"Sure," she replied, and then she took another bite. She also realized that, if the project Bill wanted her to do took place out in California, she would have to leave Joey behind, and the very thought of that made her heart sink a little bit. For all she knew, this may have been one of the last times she could walk with him to her apartment together, between his tour and her knee deep in schoolwork.
"Never mind, I'll tell ya later," he quipped with a wave of his hand. He kept on eating his ice cream all the way until they reached the building a block away from the harbor. She unlocked the door for him and they made their way inside. At that point, it was nearly ten o'clock, but the look of fatigue on his face told Sam that he was ready for bed.
"I'll just crash on the couch," he told her as he scraped the last bites of ice cream and rainbow sprinkle from the bottom of his cup.
"You sure? My bed's real comfy." He snickered at that, but he was adamant about it. Once he finished his ice cream, he took his seat on the couch and untied his Chucks. Sam realized he was serious as she finished her ice cream soon enough. She fetched him a blanket and a pillow out from the hall closet, and he stretched out across the couch with his feet up to the opposite arm. She tucked the pillow beneath his head of black curls and he pulled the soft fleece blanket up to his chin.
"You comfy?" she asked him in a gentle voice.
"Yeah." He snuggled down into the cushions and he showed her a warm little smile. "This is a comfy couch, Sam I am."
"Zelda slept her when we were all over in England," she told him. "When Marla, Bel, and I got home, she was out like a light."
"Wow. Gonna look forward to seein' her again. Her and those three badass chicks."
"Bring me home something, too, if you can," she suggested him.
"No need to tell me," he assured her. "I already have sump'n in mind for ya." He flashed her another wink which he then followed with a little grin.
"Good night, Joey," she told him.
"G'night, Sam," he replied back. She stood to her feet and made her way over to the lamp. She knew Marla was still up but she needed to give Joey his darkness; thus she switched it off for him. Using the light from Marla's bedroom at the far end of the hall, she crept on back to her own room.
"Sam?" Joey started out of the blue.
"Hm?" She froze right in place.
"Can I ask you sump'n?"
"Sure." She could make out the outline of the couch as well as the sides of his face and his black curls. "Seeing as you didn't on the walk home..." She knelt down before the couch, right in front of his face.
"How would you feel if I asked you for a kiss good night?" he asked her in a near whisper. "Y'know, seeing as Marla's not gonna bother us at all."
"I'd love to give you a kiss good night," she confessed, and without another moment's hesitation, she leaned into his face and pressed her lips onto those smooth dark ones. As smooth as silk, as decadent as the very chocolate she had eaten in the few moments prior to then, as cool and sweet as the very ice cream they had eaten up.
"Good night, Joey," she told him right into his face.
"C'mon, gotta do better than that," he insisted. She gave her hair a toss back and she leaned into his face once more, that time for a bigger heartier, longer kiss on the lips. She held there for a few seconds before she rested her hands on either side of his face: his skin was soft and healthy to the touch. He let out a soft groan from his throat at the feeling.
"Not with Marla in the next room," she whispered to him.
"Damn it. Okay."
She gave him another kiss before she ran her fingers through the black curls upon his head out of affection. She headed back to her room for the rest of the night: once she walked in through the door, the fatigue settled over her as well. It wasn't that late and yet she felt ready for bed herself.
She was quick to undress and change into her camisole and her pajama shorts, and then she strode across the hall in order to brush her teeth. Even with the tooth brush and the spearmint, she could still taste Joey on her lips. Even as she crawled into bed and switched off her light, she could still taste him there.
Sam lay her head down on the pillow and closed her eyes. The mysterious man in her dreams lay down next to her there in bed, with his head propped up in the palm of his hand and his eyes fixed on her. His body was a lot more shapely than she had originally imagined him to be, especially when held next to the darkness of her room.
"So much is happening right now," he whispered to her.
"Too much is happening right now," she confessed.
"It's alright, though—just don't erase me is all I ask of you." She rolled her head over the surface of the pillow for a look into his eyes but he vanished into the thin air of sleep. She drifted into a dreamless realm and she awoke to the sound of Marla laughing at something in the next room.
Sam was quick to crawl out of bed, and she made her way into the living room to find Joey had fallen off of the couch and Genie lay down on the small of his back.
"Oh, dear," Sam declared. Joey then lifted his head from the carpet and he stared up at her and Marla with the sleep still very much riddled in his eyes.
"I almost don't even wanna get up," he admitted to them, but Marla stooped down and picked Genie off of him, and held her close to her chest. It was still early, given the gray light from the rising sun filtered through the filmy curtains on the far side of the room and Joey was still rather sleepy as he rolled over onto his back. But he glanced up at Sam with an eager expression on his face.
"Want me to get dressed?" she asked him, to which he quickly nodded his head.
"And would you like me to take my drawing stuff with me?" she offered him.
"Please!" he insisted with a gesture of his hand.
Within time, and after a cup of coffee all around and hugs from Marla, Sam had dressed and she and Joey headed out the door to his car parked down the block. The rain fell all around them as he led her to the passenger side.
"Don't ask me why but the lock on the driver's side started malfunctioning," he told her as he unlocked the car. "I can only unlock it from the passenger's side."
"Huh." But Sam climbed into the seat and she shut the door behind her. He then climbed into the driver's seat and fired up the car.
Soon he found the way to the freeway out of New York City and onward to the upstate region. The clouds hung low over them with the impending autumnal darkness, but Sam was more than happy to be next to Joey once again. The skyline fell away from them within time and they were met with the open road and the vast stretches of multicolored forest. All manner of red and orange all around them: fall had made its way to the Northeast and in such colorful fashion to boot.
"One of these days," he began as he took the turn off to Monticello, "and by one of these days, I mean when we get home from Europe—we're takin' you and the girls to go see Iron Maiden. Go see 'em for real."
"Like actually genuinely for real?" she asked him, to which he nodded right at her for a few seconds.
"Hell yeah, gotta see the Maiden. I guess Zelda really wants to see 'em. I also got sump'n to show ya when we get to the house. You're gonna love it, too."
The rain continued to fall all around them, even as the sun poked its head out from behind the vast stretch of cloud cover over them. Joey squinted his eyes against the bright glare against the soaked pavement before them.
"Hand me my sunglasses for me, please and thank you," he told her. "They're in the glove box."
She took those big mirrored sunglasses out of hiding for him, and he unfolded them with just two fingers before he slipped them on over his big brown eyes. He was silent the whole way up towards the halfway point of Binghamton, but Sam kept her eyes on those dark lips, especially since they were from the side at that point. She thought about the drawing in her journal, the same journal upon her lap as well as the one she handed in to Bill for a place into the school. Joey from the side, with that straight Roman nose and those soft little dark lips.
She still had yet to draw him out again for a stained glass drawing, and she hoped that she could do it for him by the time they reached his place in Camillus.
By the time they reached the heart of Binghamton and the stoplight at the center of it all, the rain stopped for a moment, but Sam knew more awaited them up ahead. But the sun poked out once again over them as if it welcomed them back home. Joey peered over his sunglasses to the meters behind the steering wheel. Sam peered out the window and she recognized that other head of soft black curls. She recognized that little plume of silver over the crown of his head, even from clear across the street and through the small rivers on the outside of the windows. That little plume stood up high and bright like a little bit of genuine silver in the crisp sunlight.
"Oh, hey, there's Alex," she muttered: two older people stood before him. They looked to be in line for something. "Alex with his parents."
"He's a freak," Joey remarked without looking over to them.
"Who? Alex?"
"Yeah."
"How so?"
"He's just a freak."
"Joey," Sam scoffed.
"What?" He frowned at her from behind the mirrored sunglasses. She stared on at her own reflection in those two lenses.
"He's a good boy and a nice kid," she insisted. "Yeah, he's a little bit precocious but I can tell you that he's a good kid, though."
Joey never said anything as he took his foot off of the brake, and they lunged forward along the main artery of the town. Soon, they returned to the highway and made their way forth towards Camillus. The clouds gathered over them and blanketed the sun once more: the rain returned with a vengeance. Joey flicked on the windshield wipers to full force so those little rivulets would stay at bay. Nothing like the monsoon flow out in the California desert, but still something strong enough for him to slow to a crawl at one point.
Sam recognized the Syracuse skyline up ahead, but Joey took another turn off to that little town in question.
"Jesus, this is a lot of rain," he remarked as he bowed his head and kept his eye on the gages. "I don't think it's ever rained this much in one sitting before here."
"Remember that one time I came up here?" Sam recalled. "Like last year or something? Same thing happened there."
"That was a lot of rain in and of itself," he said with a nod of his head. "But this is like twice that, though. Look at that! I can't hardly see the yellow line between us."
"Wanna stop?" she suggested to him.
"Nah, I see the signs up ahead," he assured her. "Thank you, though. If we were closer to Binghamton or even the City, I might'a pulled over."
They almost crawled back to his apartment, which felt so alien and out of place against the sheer amount of rain all around them. Sam kept her head bowed and her journal tucked under her jacket as she and Joey scurried back to his place. He still had his sunglasses on as he took his keys out of his pocket.
"You got it?" she asked him over the roar of the rain.
"Oh, yeah."
He almost fumbled the keys but he unlocked the front door. They almost stumbled into the front part of the warm, dry apartment. He was quick to take off his sunglasses and wipe his face with the palm of his hand. Sam shut the door behind her and shook her damp head about.
"Anyways, I gotta show this to ya," he told her as he gestured over to the kitchen. There on the shiny clean linoleum floor in between the oven and the table there stood a little drum kit, complete with a series of cymbals and a small kick drum with a black head on the front side.
"Mr. Drummer!" she exclaimed, and without sparing another second, he rounded the side of the kit, and took to the stool, and picked up a pair of drum sticks. He had wedged it in such a tight space that she worried about him hitting his knee on the corner of something.
"Lemme show ya how we do things here in upstate," he said in a loud voice, loud enough for her to hear over the roar of the rain. He clicked his drum sticks together and then made a drum roll for her on his snare first. Then he turned to his biggest splash cymbal. He proceeded on a quick drum line that almost sounded as though Charlie was drumming before her. Joey hardly moved his arms but his feet seemed to bounce on the kick drum.
"One of these days," he shouted over his own racket, and he hit the splash cymbal once again. He let the reverb of it dissipate before he spoke again. "One of these days—I'm gonna sing while I drum."
"Go for it, Joseph!" she shouted back to him and he laughed before he hit the cymbal once more. It was as if she had opened up something new with him. Something new and something that she needed to bring to life through art. The tight way in which he moved and the way it was so effortless with him left her in awe, and it left her fingers tingling, itching to draw something for him and only for him.