It's So Easy | Buddy Holly

Childhood

November 28th, 1958. 12:03pm, The Winter Household

After a while of standing there with Buddy, we finally let go. I walk over to my nightstand and open the drawer. All that's in there is a box of band-aids, a bottle of mostly gone lotion, dental floss, cotton swabs, another condom (God damn it, past Violet, you're embarrassing present Violet!), and aha! A bottle of pills. I quickly grab the bottle and shake it. It sounds like there's about three or four left. I look at the label on the pill bottle. Prescribed to Winter, Violet R. Take one tablet daily. Rx 7744834. Prescribed by Dr. Gerald Maddison. Refill as needed. Expires February 3rd, 1959. I sign relief and open the bottle. I was right, four left. I pour one into my hand and quickly swallow it. I don't care if I'm drowsy later, I need them.

"Find some?" Buddy asks from the bed.

I nod. "Expires in a few months. February third."

"I dunno why, but that day makes me uncomfortable." Buddy responds. "Gives me a weird feeling."

I pause and turn around to him. "You too?"

He nods.

"Oh my God, we're too connected."

"I had kind of a weird dream last night." Buddy stands up and runs a hand through his hair. "We were dead."

"Excuse me?"

"Dead. As in deceased. As in no longer alive."

"Yeah, Buddy I get that." I start pacing. "How did we die?"

"Um, I don't remember. I just know it was violent. Plane or car crash or somethin'. It was like I was some news reporter looking at our bodies. It was snowy and cold. Not cold like here, but cold like New York. Freezin', below zero." Buddy's getting anxious just talking about it.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God." I mumble. I start to sloppily braid my hair. I need to get a hold of this damn nervous habit. "Was it a plane?"

Buddy grabs my arm and stops my pacing. "Yeah, plane in a snow covered field. Cold. News people writing stories. We were all the headlines. "Breaking news! Rock 'n' Roll star Buddy Holly and wife Violet dead in crash".'

I look at him and purse my lips. "Shit."

"What?"

"I've had the exact dream. At least three times in the past month."

"It has to mean something, right? You're the one who's all in tune with that!" Buddy looks worried. I hate to see him worried.

"I don't know! I guess we avoid planes in the winter?" My arm starts to sting. Buddy is gripping a little hard. I don't try to move.

He looks over at the clock and back at me. "Come on, you get those feelings! The ones where you're always right! The one where you thought we'd get married, the one where you said I'd be famous, the one when you said I wouldn't always be in Lubbock. Violet, think!"

His voice is raising slightly. I know he doesn't know it is, he's scared. Oh no, he's scared.

"I don't know! I'm sorry! I just don't!"

"Damn it, why did you have to be an orphan? I bet your grandma or something is psychic!"

My jaw drops. "What did you just say?"

Buddy lets go of my arm and I look at it. White prints the the form of his hand. "What did you just say to me, Charles?"

"Holy shit, I'm so sorry, Violet. I'm so so sorry."

I turn around and cross my arms.

"Honey, I'm sorry!" He only calls me honey when he knows he's in trouble. Then again, I only call him Charles when I'm mad or joking.