And in these fading days of innocence,
I’ll forever keep those nights.
Just you and me, in a summer breeze,
With fireflies and firelight.
Iquickly learned that Molly Dyer, guitarist and singer-songwriter, was aseparate entity from the Molly I used to know. My Molly was reserved and bither tongue when I knew she wanted to talk shit. She worried and stressed andallowed others to dictate her life. ButthisMolly …
ThisMolly shut her eyes and with the strum of her guitar, let go of everything. Shedanced in circles, stomped her feet and clapped her hands. She laughed andcried and made the room hers like she wasn’t performing in some gritty bar inthe middle of nowhere. She ensured that every single one of these cowboys andpassers-by would never forget Molly Dyer, guitarist and singer-songwriter.
Includingme.
***
Ithought about leaving after her show, until it began to feel like I would berunning away from a person I knew by name but couldn’tactuallyrecognize. So, instead, I mustered the courage to wait by the bar.Donnie threw a side-eyed glare my way every few minutes and I wondered how manyguysdid this kind of thing aftershe performed. Butno matter the number, I knewIwas a rare case. We’d been best friendsafter all, and I wasn’t looking for anything more than to reinstate my oldpromise that we’d stay that way.
Nowwearing a pair of chunky-heeled boots and holding a soft guitar case, Mollywaved to a few of the stragglers and approached with uncertainty. She smiledshyly when she came to stand before me, and without thinking twice, I took herguitar.
“Thanksforcomin’. You didn’t have to wait, you know.” Hereyes flitted toward my face and then dropped just as quickly.
“Yeah,I know.” I hoisted the case onto my shoulder and asked, “Whereyaparked?”
Witha grateful smile, Molly slapped her hand twice against the bar and wishedDonnie a good night. Then, she led me to the door and out into the parking lot.Wordlessly, we walked toward an electric blue Volkswagen Beetle. The number ofbumper stickers wallpapering the back was startling and hanging from herrearview mirror was a trio of fuzzy animals—a manatee, a shark, and a narwhal.Everything about the car made me grin. It was as individual as her personality,without any desire to impress anyone. It was every bit the Molly I used toknow, but instead of being ashamed of who she was, she now owned it and droveit around.
“Justtoss it in the back,” she instructed me, unlocking the door and pulling itopen.
“Niceseat covers,” I commented, nudging my chin toward the plush leopard printseats.
Mollylaughed and ran a hand over the driver’s headrest. “They’re comfy as hell.”
“Ibelieve it,” I said, laying the guitar onto the backseat and turning to her tocontinue the small talk. “So, what got yousingin’?”
Shehesitated, twisting her lips and eyeing me with consideration, and Iimmediately began to mentally kick myself. I should’ve started with something alittle more casual, something a little less intrusive. If I was going torebuild any semblance of a friendship with her, jumping in headfirst probablywasn’t the way to do it.
“Um,Chad, I don’t—”
“Sorry,”I rushed, stuffing my hands into my pockets. “I’ll let you get home.”
Herface fell with instant disappointment. “Oh! No, I was justgonnasay, I don’twannaspend all nighttalkin’ in a parking lot.”
“Oh.”My brow furrowed. Years ago, I would’ve always known exactly what she was goingto say or do. Now, with every moment that passed, I realized how little I knewher, and with every moment, I wanted to know her more.
“So,” she continued, a smile playingaround her lips, “ifyawanted to grab something toeat, we can. Or uh, I have beer at my apartment, if you’d rather that.”
Forjust a second, her eyes met mine and saw in them the same hope I felt. Thedesperation for evidence that wishes do come true, even if they were delayed bytoo many years.
“Yeah,”I replied, nodding fervently. “Beer sounds good.”
5
DrinkBeer Whenever I Want
MOLLY
“SO,JUST MAKE YOURSELFcomfortable,” I said, all too aware of thewavering in my voice.
Whenwas the last time I’d had anyone in the apartment who wasn’t here for a roommate?Iactually couldn’tremember the last time I’dentertained a guest of my own, a friend or otherwise, and now I felt awkward,clumsy and weird.
