Taxi Cab I-/

≠II_,_.

Sometimes we will die and sometimes we will fly away

Either way you're by my side until my dying days

And if I'm not there and I'm far away

I said, "Don't be afraid."

I said, "Don't be afraid. We're going home."

He smiled unevenly.

That was her first impression of him. But her impression grew more and more. He began to offer her rides home: every night from band practice. At first, it was something that happened because her father, drunk once again, was too stupid to come get her himself. Corey was her only "friend" in the entire class, so she asked him, blushing with shame the entire time. She knew he wouldn't refuse, but asking for help hurt something deep inside of her. She longed to be home in that instance, counting her rock collection and watching the cars roll past outside.

And so she did catch a ride with him that night.

And the next.

And the next.

At first, she was afraid of him. She'd heard too many stories about strange white boys pulling over in the night and doing unspeakable things to girls. But as they began to ride together more and more often, she began to see that he was more in love with the moon than her, and she need not fear. He was happy to discuss the workings of her mind, and that was more beautiful than her body. At first, the car rides were awkward, but soon they began to listen to music together. And then sing along. And then, sometimes, he'd pause the music and point out a lyric he loved. They'd talk about it the whole ride home. She began to find that he would talk to her the whole way home, and did not once ask about her body.

He never touched her. He never spoke of earthly things like love, and clothes. No, he usually looked at the moon and talked to her about song lyrics he was writing. She found it fascinating.

Corey enjoyed the car rides as well. He hadn't realized how lonely he was until someone was around.

This would be a very long story if I took all the time to write it out, but here is what happened: the two became friends. It was unlikely, yes, but a beautiful friendship. At first, the other kids in band practice laughed and gossiped when the lonely white boy and the empty black girl started riding home together. But soon, it became a regular occurrence. They were so much more than their skin color and belief. They were the moon and the sun, and no one could be convinced otherwise. They just couldn't see it.

They spent so many nights together, in the car rides, that Corey eventually came to believe that she was the only one he could truly talk to. She thought the moon was beautiful as well, and he believed her crystal collection that she described was absolutely amazing.

He could usually tell when she was upset. She got teased a lot at school, because of her skin color, and the way she would get caught in class, staring out the window and wondering where else her soul could escape to. After those days, she relapsed back into believing she was worthless. She'd get into the car quiet, and Corey knew she didn't want to talk. She usually couldn't see through the tears. Hours of car rides had taught her that she could cry in front of him: it was okay.

And so the tears spilled down her cheeks. And he knew that he could not call her beautiful, for that would imply that he was in love with her, not the moon and silence. He could not put an arm around her, for he didn't want to scare her. So he said, "Don't be afraid. We're going home." And then she'd smile through her tears, and nod, and he'd turn on Christmas music, even though it was nearly summer. The ride home would be quiet, but gone before he could realize it. And he'd watch her walk into the house, then turn from the driveway.

As he left, she'd run to her window in her room so she could watch the red taillights of his car disappear into the night.

Sometimes she'd cry, because then her father would come into her room, drunk and cross-eyed, and demanded what that stupid boy was doing outside her window. She'd hide from him. It was scary. It was hurtful.