Hours

30- Friday, May 18th

9:33 AM

I have my feet propped up on Micheal's dashboard as we drive over empty roads. The sun is shining through the windshield and I have my eyes closed, only the sound of Micheal's music filling the car.

It's hard when you're living and you don't feel much

After a short argument where I had to convince him that I really didn't care what music he put on, he pulled up and queued a variation of albums and songs. He even handed me the phone so I wouldn't have to ask him who the artist was every time a new song came on.

And you're down and you're hoping that things are gonna change

I still did, of course. I asked him about the artist and the title of the song and if he liked it and where he first heard it. I asked him why he doesn't listen to the radio instead, it seems easier than downloading and organizing all of those songs. He told me that he couldn't enjoy the music on the radio if he tried, but that I shouldn't feel bad if I liked the songs that played.

Oh we don't know the roads that we're heading down

We don't know if we're lost, that we'll find a way

I told him I didn't really listen to the radio. I didn't really listen to music at all. I never really had, it just never resonated with me as it had for some people.

"Wait, wait, wait," Micheal had said, "But you're taking music. We're in the same music class. And you're telling me you don't listen to music at all?" He had laughed like he couldn't believe it, and I had shrugged because I wanted to hide my burning cheeks.

"Well..." I had laughed awkwardly, keeping my eyes on the road. "Um, it's kind of a long story..." I was hoping he'd drop it, but he gave me a look and told me,

"We are on a two hour drive, Kayla. You're telling me."

"Fine," I had huffed, knowing there was no way around it. "Well... I guess the main problem was that I didn't take an arts course in Grade 9. I was dumb and nothing interested me. I was told that 'You need at least one credit to graduate, and if you don't want to take the arts throughout high school, you should at least take one credit in Grade 9'," I parroted the words that my Grade 8 teacher had told us in a nasally voice, making Micheal snort. "And even though I should have... I didn't. And then I didn't take one in Grade 10. Or Grade 11. I guess I had kind of forgotten about it? And then course selection for Grade 12 rolls around, and I get a call from guidance. They tell me I have to take an arts credit in Grade 12, or I can't graduate.

"Obviously, I freak out. I look at all the arts credits for Grade 12s, and none of them were open. They all had prerequisites, but even worse still is that none of them interested me. I didn't know what to do. I wasn't going to take a Grade 9 course in Grade 12, that would have been humiliating. And so I talk to guidance. I tell them what's going on. And they pull some strings. Throw me into a random Grade 12 music class that I can't for the life of me understand. At least our teacher is a nice marker and knows that he can't fail me because I'd just be back in his class again for the rest of my life." I shrugged at Micheal, who was laughing at me so hard that he'd slowed the car down.

"Oh, my God," Micheal wheezed when he had caught his breath. "Oh, my God, for a smart person you are... You are incredibly dumb."

I had laughed and hit his arm playfully, grinning.

"You're telling me that you almost didn't graduate this year... because of a music credit?" Micheal had burst out laughing again, and again the car slowed down.

"Technically I still haven't graduated," I had mumbled, embarrassed. Micheal only smiled at me, and he still continues to chuckle every few minutes as the thought crosses his mind.

We don't know if we leave, we will make it home

We don't know, there's hope, then we'll be okay

I smile at the lyrics, liking the way that they're sung with a confidence that seems impossible given the fragility of the world the artist is describing. It's a happy song, and I'm noticing that a lot of Micheal's songs are happy. Happier than they should be.

Maybe that's the point.

"Is this an album or just a singular song?" I ask, sitting up straight and opening my eyes.

"Single," Micheal answers immediately. He really knows this playlist. "Well, it's part of an album, but I just have the one on this playlist." He amends quickly, after a moments hesitation. "I really only add the album if it means something."

And some say it gets brighter

"Means something?" I ask, suddenly curious.

We just have to wait

"Yeah," Micheal answers slowly, as if gauging my reaction. "You know, if it has significance."

"So what's the significance of AJR?" I look at Micheal inquiringly.

Mother mother, I can feel your heart break

"They reminded me of my Mom," Micheal says quietly, and the music seems to quiet too, even though no one's touched the volume knob.

"They're always so upbeat. Even the sadder songs. They're happy." He offers, and I can see the small smile on his face. "And they're different."

We sit in silence for a minute, and I can feel the weight of that moment growing over both of us.

Burning through me every single day

After a minute, I speak, my voice filling the suddenly quiet car.

It's hard when you're living and you don't feel much

"I'm sorry," I say, looking down at my hands. "I-"

But Micheal doesn't let me finish. He shakes his head, a sad smile twisting on his lips. His dark hair flops around in the sun, and I notice his grip on the steering wheel relax just a little bit.

"Don't worry about it," He says. I open my mouth to speak, but he cuts me off again. "It's not as bad as you think, really. Talking about her. It's just..." He sighs, and blinks once, hard, before focusing on the road again. "I miss her sometimes. Not sometimes. All the time. I miss her so much."

And you're down and you're hurting 'cause you don't feel loved

I smile at Micheal, putting my hand on his leg and giving an awkward pat. He looks lost, his eyes light and tearful.

It's hard when you're living and you don't feel much

And you're down and you're hoping that things are gonna change

"Do you want to talk about her?" I ask.