When I woke up, he was gone.
It felt strange, the whole thing. Knowing that he was going off to play some venue somewhere and I couldn't just go to the diner to see him.
Curling up, I could smell him in the sheets, on his pillow, in the room. It took me a minute to get up, and understand what I was looking at, up close.
I stared at the walls; pictures of crowds from shows, articles from magazines, and all these letters tacked up with safety pins.
I walked around, absorbing everything with my adjusting eyes. I found a picture, a cover from a music magazine that they sold on the newstands. The more I looked at it, the more I noticed; there was Indie, smiling comically underneath his hat, bright blue eyes staring back at me. He looked different, but somehow I could still find the pieces of him that I'd come to recognize. Beside him, a familiar face jumped out at me, his arm around Indie and menacing grin; Blue Ione from Benny Fights the Beast. My mind wandered to that morning that we danced in the diner, when Indie had asked me about going to see BFTB back in Boston on the tour. Taking a closer look, the caption read:
Independence Day: Indie Adams and crew go Red, Rock & Blue.
He wasn't at that show. I would have remembered; I'd know his name, wouldn't I? My eyes didn't leave the poster, my mind back-tracking as far as I could make it. That night, standing in the crowd with the two girls from my school...
If you can't hang then,
There's the door, baby.
It hit me, a solid punch to the face. How could I not remember? How could I not recognize my boyfriend's face from the boy on stage?
My phone suddenly rang on the bedside table, and I ran to pick it up. Seeing the number, I stuck the phone to my ear.
“I knew I should have looked you up.”
Indie laughed, “What was I supposed to say? I didn't realize you didn't know. When you told me you went to the show in Boston, I thought that was your way of telling me you knew who I was, and that you didn't care.”
Walking in to the kitchen, I balanced the phone on my shoulder as I opened the fridge “I don't care. I mean, I care, but it's not going to change anything. I still...” I paused; I still what? I still cared about him?
“Dawson?”
I sighed, “I still really like you.” I shook my head, filling my arms with fruit, milk and yogurt while I bumped the door closed with my hip.
“I still really like you, too.” assured Indie, “Look, I'm about to go out and get some food with the guys. I'll call you in a few hours, okay?”
“That's fine.” I said, opening the drawers, “Quick question: where are your knives?”
Indie laughed, “I'm afraid to tell you, considering how frustrated you are right now and how good your memory is.”
We talked for a little longer, about where things in the house were, where he'd be and when I'd be working. He told me about his plans for the Fourth, which was Wednesday.
Soon, it really was time for him to leave, and just as I was about to say goodbye, he jumped in “Also, I left you something on the kitchen counter, under the landline. If you have any problems, let me know.”
Hanging up the phone, I walked over to the cordless, seeing a piece of paper folded up into a tiny square. Opening it, I felt something solid taped inside; a credit card. Looking at the note, I saw Indie's early-morning scribbling read:
YOU ARE READING
Hometown Hero
Teen FictionDawson Bennet never had a permanent home. Traveling from restaurant to restaurant with her dads, no town held her in one place long enough to get comfortable with anyone. And signs don't look good, now that she's become acquainted with Indie, the to...
