College Fiend [A$AP Rocky]

Seventeen

My eyes stung. It was a familiar and annoying feeling, like dust just flew under my eyelid and no matter how hard I rubbed, it doesn’t come out. When I was younger it used to happen every morning. Only for a few minutes. Now it’s the same; the sting only lasted for a few minutes, and when it ended I finally drifted back into reality.

Quincy was here. I didn’t know why I thought he wouldn’t be—maybe because I didn’t want him to be—but he was right in the driver’s seat, in the flesh. Looking at him felt surreal and good and bad all at once. His lips were a little pursed and his eyes squinted. The only way I could tell he was still alive was the slow movement of his stomach as he breathed and the way his fingers tapped the steering wheel.

His window let in a bundle of sunlight, brightening up his face but certainly not his mood. He looked discontent with himself, that’s all. Not angry, not sad, just discontent. Maybe a little tired, too.

“Let me drive.” I said to him. He looked at me like he just realized I was in the car, that I was an actual living and breathing person.

“Do you have a license?” Quincy asked. For a moment that made my heart race, his voice sounded like Wayne’s. But he was the last person I needed to think about, anyway.

“No, but I don’t have a lot of things and neither do you.” I didn’t know what I was talking about, but I felt that it was true. Quincy pulled over slowly and turned off the car. He didn’t motion for me to switch seats with him; he just sat in this silence so I had to do the same.

“Do you know exactly where in Mississippi your mother is supposed to be?”

The question sparked something in me, some kind of strange and unusual happiness that maybe was only extraordinary because I hadn’t felt it in ages. I racked my thoughts for the answer, as if giving a response too late would take away my brief joy.

That day after Sheena killed herself, the day her mother came to the college and told me what she’d heard, floated back to me. I pictured the newspapers I read in that library and how I felt about learning that my father kept it from me the whole time. It still shocked me; I knew my father could do some really stupid and unnecessary things, but this? This was crossing the line. This meant that my whole life was a lie and he didn’t even care to save me from it.

And that’s only if he even knew in the first place.

“I don’t know exactly where,” I said, swallowing. “But I’m sure we can find out if we ask around.”

Quincy nodded, took a sip of water, and started the car back up. “I’ll drive. Once we get to Mississippi I’ll wake you up, alright?”

I nodded, and he stayed looking at me. Our gaze felt sharp and unclear at the same time. His eyes were cloudy and held a message, a barrage of words that he wanted to say—and maybe that I wanted to say too—but couldn’t. So he finally turned his head back around, and pulled off.

                                                          * * *

The only things I really ever knew about Mississippi were that it boosted your status in first grade if you knew how to spell the word, and it had a river. But now, I knew that my mother also resided here. It reminded me of Columbia, Tennessee in some parts, in other parts Alabama, and in other parts Wisconsin. Quincy talked to me a bit while we drove, which I didn’t expect. Nothing too heavy, just pointing out landmarks and laughing at funny things we saw.

But at some point we had to stop.

He pulled over to a bodega in a neighborhood that appeared to be not-so-lavish. I was willing to get out of the car on my own but he insisted on coming with me, so we  both walked into the empty store and he left to examine the snacks while I went straight up to the store owner.