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Show phone before I came over if I could talk some sense into Stacy. But once again she did all the talking. She told me she had watched Pink Floyd's The Wall a hundred times. You know what that means, Jennifer, she said, as if talking to a child. I didn't. I had never heard of Pink Floyd, wasn't sure if The Wall was a movie or a television show. You only watch The Wall for one reason, she said, Do you know what that is? No, I confessed. Acid, she said. And I didn't need her to explain. Once again she had traveled far from me. Only this time I knew I couldn't follow, that her center wasn't my center, that I would never know what it felt like to lean against a car while smoke curled in the winter light, and that was okay. When Stacy married at the age of nineteen because she was pregnant and had run away, ^^^y^J^j^y family_to_buy wedding presents that couldn't be returned for drug money. I sent monogrammed towels. What I wish I had sent were the Han Solo cards from my Star Wars collection. 143 |
