Fall ❈ Benny Rodriguez

xxvi. holograms

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX!
HOLOGRAMS　M83

　

　

B E N N Y
point of view.

　

WINDING THROUGH THE canyon, windows rolled down, the wind carried the familiar smell of sea salt. The scenery was also familiar, and comforting: gray rock and green scrub and oak trees. Further up the mountain, we would find the gravestone of my parents.

　We. Compulsion tugged my gaze off of the dirt-gravel path and toward her.

　Kayla sat, bare legs shining gold in the bright sunlight, feet propped upon the dashboard; her sunglasses were pushed up into her hair, black plastic blending with black curls. Her hair was shorter now: After our miscarriage, she had cut it to her shoulders, and had, in the past seven months, kept the length. The wind lifted it now, whipping curling strands across her cheeks and mouth.

　Of course, I had already memorized all of her. The shape of her cheekbones, high and dotted with freckles; her eyes, shaped like those of cats, and framed by thick, dark lashes; the sharp edges of her lips. She was looking all around, drinking in the beauty of the Santa Monica Mountains; the sun sparked off of her cheeks, giving them the glow I noticed other girls applying makeup to achieve.

　There was nothing that could outshine her. She surpassed the sun, and she was mine.

　Flashes of the past mingled with hopeful images of the future. Then Kayla's eyes turned sharply toward me. "Road!" she squealed.

　Fortunately, the calm air encompassed me, even as I realized that I had nearly driven off of a ridge. I turned my eyes back to the path, but I could still see her. A wild grin spread across my face, followed by laughter that I could not quite explain.

　Upon a second, briefer glance, I caught her smile, the roll of her eyes. She had just started to sing along to the song she had chosen with the aux cord connected to her phone. Her taste in music was all over the place, ranging from oldies and rock and pop and alternative. The genre of the current song was hard to determine, but it was quiet, slowly growing, playing the sounds of a summer night and what may have been a banjo.

　However, when the singing bit arrived, it was easy to tell the band: M83, one of Kayla's utter favorites. The singer's voice was distinctive and had an epic feel. Kayla sang along beautifully, although she had matched the tone so well with the song's that, if I listened very closely, it actually sounded as though her voice was in the background of the song itself.

　"I'll be yours," Kayla sang, throwing an arm out of the open passenger's window, "someday!"

　The one line was repeated several times before reaching its conclusion with equally as many low "Someday"s. We had agreed to take turns with the aux cord, but once the song finished and she started to pull it out of her phone, I held out a hand to her.

　"Play another one," I said. "I like them."

　"M83?"

　"Yeah."

　Kayla beamed then; her heart lifted high into the heavens every time someone complimented her taste in music or the artists/bands that she loved. Considering I actually liked pretty much everything she liked, it was a win-win for me.