Hours

31- Friday, May 18th

9:45 AM

Micheal looks at me, almost astonished. There's a smile on his lips, but his eyes are sad and surprised. "What?" He asks after a moment, voice breaking into a little laugh at the end of the word.

"Your Mom," I say, suddenly embarrassed. "Do you want to talk about her?"

Micheal laughs- legitimately laughs- before sputtering out, "I'm sorry. It's just- I've never... No one has ever asked me that. Not my family, not my Dad, no one. So I don't even know what to say. What can I say? She was my Mom. But I didn't know her, you know? So what can I say about her?"

He looks out the windshield in front of him, seemingly lost in thought, before jumping back into the conversation with startling commitment.

"She was tall. To me, at least, back then. She was tall and she had black hair that went down to her waist. People used to tell me I have her eyes. They were blue, that's all I remember of them. She was always laughing, always smiling... She always seemed happy. Even near the end. I never saw a dark side to her. But she must have had one, right? Everyone does..." He trails off for a bit, and I let him think, trying to quell the prick of unease sitting at the base of my spine.

Long, black hair? Blue eyes?

"She made the best lunches. I didn't care that my Mom was still making my lunch when I was in Grade 4, they were the best. Sandwiches without the crust, filled with fresh vegetables and real meat- not packaged baloney. Homemade mac and cheese, with different types of cheese. And, my favourite, after Christmas or Easter, turkey soup. And every day, after school, she'd be waiting for me at the door when I came home. She stopped waiting at the bus stop when I was eight because I told her I didn't need to be picked up... but she still waited at the door each and every day. There would always be a snack waiting for me when I came home, and I would eat it and tell her about my day. She always made me feel special. Even as a kid, rambling on about whatever had happened at school, who was fighting with who, who had the coolest Pokemon cards... whatever I was telling her, she made me feel like it was important."

Micheal pauses again, for longer this time. He grows quiet.

"That's what I miss most about her," He says eventually, voice barely audible over the music. "I miss feeling important."

A new song comes on as we sit in silence. It's louder, more upbeat, the artists voice deep and smooth.

Yeah, yeah, yeah

I look out the window, speechless. I watch the fields roll past, watch patches of trees flash past the windows. What can I say? I have to say something.

"She sounds... nice," I offer, immediately regretting it. Of course, of course, I would lead with something like that. "I mean, obviously... But like, I-"

"I know, Kayla. I know." Micheal smiles, looking at me nicely. "It's okay that you don't know what to say. I'm just telling you about her because you asked me to. So... I guess I'm kind of talking."

"Your mom seems really incredible, Micheal. Really." I say, listening to the music and not really to my own voice.

Good times, bad decisions

"I'm sorry you lost her. I really am. I mean, I don't really know what it feels like, but... But it must suck. And that you really didn't have anyone to go to..."

Yeah, yeah, yeah

"I wish I could have been there with you, Micheal. I wish I knew you back then, I wish I hadn't... I wish I had been your friend earlier. Before-" I cut myself off. No need to reveal the crazy part of me that has travelled through time.

"And I know that doesn't mean much because I'm still the same self-centred girl I was at the beginning of this week, but-"

"I don't think you are self-centred, Kayla." Micheal cuts me off, and the softness in his voice sends shivers through me. "I never have. You were always just, I don't know, on a different level. The fact that you knew- that you know who I am seems impossible. Our 'crowds' of people don't usually mix, you know? I mean, this is high school. People are arrogant and careless and they converse with people they know. I didn't know you. I like to think I do now." Micheal meets my eyes for the briefest second before turning back to the road, but in that second I saw the smile on his face, the hopeful grin of somebody who's only hoping they said the right thing.

It's a quarter past midnight, and the sirens are mending some hearts

But we're the losers on the backseat singing

Love will tear us apart

I ask Micheal about this artist. I know they're different, I know they're not AJR. The singer sounds kind of British, and the style seems a lot flowier than AJR. AJR was electronics and dancing and synthetic brass. These guys are smooth and calm and singing.

We keep on running

Micheal tells me that this is a new single by these guys. Their last album was two years ago, and he's been waiting for this release for a long time. He just hopes their next album comes out soon since he really loves their music.

Running through a red light

I tell him I really like it too. I'm not just saying that to relate, I quite legitimately want to listen to more of this band, even just a minute into one of their songs.

Like we're trying to burn the night away

He asks me whether I want to listen to more.

Away

I say yes.

Oh, away, away.

Oh, away, away, oh!

He puts on their last album

This is my favourite part, oh-

Help me piece it all together darling,

He sings along.

Before it falls apart, oh-

I smile

Help me piece it all together.