From our backyard, we have a perfect view of the Autozone next door, especially its sign. The sign never turns off and it’s so bright it blocks out the stars. It’s like our very own red, eternal sun. Some people don’t even have yards to sit in, but we do and we try to use it as much as we can because we may not have it forever, we may not have anything forever. We are lucky to have this splinter of the tamed and trampled wild we all came from, which now barely exists at all. Most nights, at least for a little while, we sit in beach chairs and you smoke your cigarettes and I watch your cheeks flush when you laugh or when you cough, everything stained in neon because of the Autozone sign.
And we both have jobs and so much worry, but these nights in our chairs are our time to be quiet and together, barefoot in grass that feels like horse hair between our toes. You grew up riding horses and I never have even been close to one, so I believed you when you said the grass felt like horse hair. I’ll never forgot you saying that. There is so much you say that I’ll never forget. I hope I never forget these nights in the yard, how the Autozone sign reflects in your eyes, making them look like they are on fire or something else so bright and alive.
A few nights back, you got out your guitar. You’ve been practicing for nearly a year, but you’ve never played for me. You kept saying you weren’t ready, but then you came up behind me when I was doing the dishes and said you were. We went out into the backyard and sat in the red light and you turned your lawn chair towards me and you started to play and I closed my eyes because you looked so pretty in the Autozone glow it was getting distracting. You sang me a Bruce Springsteen song I’d never heard. I’ve never even liked Springsteen before, but from your lips I like almost anything, love it even, right away. And finally you were singing to me, and it was like nothing else. As I listened, as you strummed and sang, I had the feeling that I was actually an adult, that I was actually living, that this was my life and we were in it together and though there was a lot we needed, I don’t think there was anything else I could want.
And then, mid-song, you gasped and hit my leg and whispered, “look.” I opened my eyes. The night was dark and redless and it was unbelievable. You set your guitar to the side, pulled me out of my chair, pulled my arms around you and we lay back together on the grass. There in the backyard we could see a few stars, blinking like the shining eyes of the universe. I could feel your breathing and I was breathing too and for the moment, the autozone sign was off.
