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July 28, 2009
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Dashboard Book by Karen B. (pepsiaudio)
So this is for the obvert contest. It was sort of based on that idea of ‘what if?’, like what if you could alter what you had done in the past. I call it Dashboard Book because that is what sort of triggered the whole mess. I hope you enjoy, and visit my tumblr here.
-Pepsiaudio
If there was one thing that Patrick could tell you, it would be “Change is bad.” Because it was true. Change is always bad.
April 6th, 2005 was a warm sunny spring day. It was also the day Patrick found out that change was bad.
He was sitting outside the school in his car, the air blowing and making the loudest possible Fwoosh as it could. There, Patrick sat reading Player Piano by Kurt Vonnegut, his hands resting on the steering wheel, the cold air making his knuckles numb and his eyes dry. And on he read, getting lost in the spin of the words and the Fwoosh of the air, too interested to notice the ring of the bell. Even as students flooded the parking lot, their bags scraping the side of his car, their voices bubbling in the warm spring air, he did not notice.
It was only the tap of knuckles on the passenger window that brought him from his trance. He looked up to see Sky’s face, her wide smiling mouth and rosy cheeks and baby blue eyes, all framed with wild waves of dirty blonde hair. He unlocked the door, and she opened it and climbed in. Patrick laid the book open on the dashboard, and put his seatbelt on. Sky never wore a seatbelt, and he had given up on lecturing her on safety.
Patrick met Sky at a college party, she was a freshman at the time, barely fourteen, and he, about to graduate college, at the age of twenty-one. Now, Sky was a sophomore, about to turn sixteen when school ended, and Patrick…Well, he was still twenty-one.
“To the lake?” He asked, because on Wednesdays, they always went to the lake. Even in the winter, when the lake wasn’t at all frozen, but was freezing, and snow littered the rocky shore, they were there, every Wednesday. Sometimes they rented a row boat but most of the time they would sit on the shore and skip stones. And if it wasn’t too cold, they would dip their feet in the water, and Sky would shriek if it was in fact cold, and Patrick would call her a wimp. Wednesdays at the lake were just what they did.
Sky liked it when it rained and Patrick liked it when it snowed. Sky said that rain was angel tears once, even though she can’t stand religion. She liked the way the rain hit the water on the lake, creating frantic little circles across the surface. Patrick like the way snow would float lazily down to earth, instantly melting when it touched the water. He liked the way the sky was all white and gray when it snowed, and he liked seeing Sky with snowflakes caught in her hair and melting on her eyelashes. Sky said that snow was angel kisses.
“No,” She said, “let’s go somewhere else this time.”
“But we always go to the lake on Wednesdays.” Patrick said, turning down the air, so he could hear her more clearly.
“We can go to the lake tomorrow. I want to go somewhere else.” She said, turning the air back up. Sky was not one to argue with, she was stubborn in a way that made her always right, even when she wasn’t.
“Like where?” Patrick asked, because he couldn’t think of where to go. It had just always been the lake.
“How about that field up in the hills, the one people talk about. I hear it’s beautiful.” She said, throwing her things into the backseat.
So that’s where they went, to the field. And there were people there, far off, but still there. There were people at the lake, but never anyone they didn’t know. And Patrick didn’t know these people. Sky did though. She waved, and a few girls came over and hugged her. They chatted, while Patrick stood in the background, the tall grass tickling the backs of his legs, the sun glaring at him. Already, Patrick didn’t like the field. It was beautiful, as Sky had described, but when they went to the lake, it was private. It was Patrick and Sky. It was just them two and the lap of the water against the rocky shore.
The girls went back to their friends and Sky came over to Patrick. Sky and Patrick were just friends, and that was the way it was supposed to be. Sky and Patrick would never be more, because they were perfect as friends. Of course, they kissed once or twice, but nothing more than a peck. Patrick didn’t want Sky, and he was pretty sure Sky didn’t want him. They were close, close enough to look like boyfriend and girlfriend, and some people would make the mistake of thinking that. But they were only ever going to be just friends.
Sky put her hands on Patrick’s waist, as she did sometimes when she wanted something. And Patrick put his hands in his pockets as he sometimes did when he was upset. Sky looked up at Patrick, her eyes gleaming, her face glowing, that ‘pretty please’ smile set upon her mouth.
“What do you want, Sky?” Patrick pressed, rolling his eyes and slouching his shoulders.
“Well…I was just…you know. So over there they’re going to have a bonfire. See, over in that dirt patch.” She said as she pointed over at the group of people.
“We can go over there.” Patrick said, trying not to sound too reluctant.
“I…I’m not finished. So, we were wondering if…If you could get us some booze…” Sky said, like she was trying to sound like she felt bad but she really didn’t. But that was Sky for you. And that’s part of why she and Patrick were such good friends. They were opposites with too much in common.
“Sky…I’m not going to get you alcohol. Remember the last time you got drunk and you almost stripped naked to dance with someone?” Patrick tried to reason.
“Almost being the keyword, Patrick.” ‘Almost, because I was there to stop you.’ Patrick thought. “Just one bottle, okay? Just one.” Sky said, putting her hands on Patrick’s chest. He sighed, then nodded and went to the car while Sky skipped off to her friends.
In the parking lot of the liquor store, Patrick picked up his book off the dashboard and began to read again. And he became hypnotized by the words once more, and he forgot all about time. After a few chapters, he laid the book back on his dashboard and went inside the store.
When Patrick returned to the field, it was dark and the fire was bright and orange in the night. It sent off sparks that looked like little red dancing faeries. When he pulled up, Sky came prancing through the tall grass, laughing and hazy-eyed.
“Where were you?” She giggled, taking one of Patrick’s hands and dancing in circles around him.
“I got lost.” He lied, before reaching in the car to get the bottle of alcohol and his book. Sky led him to the fire by his hand. She briefly introduced him to everyone, but no one seemed to care. A girl pulled the bottle out of his hand and cracked it open.
Patrick sat on the ground next to Sky, and when a guy said “I was sitting there.” Sky said “Well Patrick’s sitting here now.” And took a swig from the bottle as it was passed to her. Patrick found it hard to read his book by fire light, which made his knuckles red and burned his eyes. It was even harder when Sky was a little bit tipsy and began to trace shapes on his back while murmuring things about the fire and the way it made his skin gold and the way it made Patrick warm to touch. It was hard, but he managed.
And then things got bad. Things got really bad. Sky got too drunk, so that when she murmured pretty things too close to Patrick’s ear, he could smell the alcohol on her breath. And then she kissed him, on the neck, with wet lips and drunken intentions. He held her shoulder and said “C’mon Sky, you’re drunk; you don’t want to do this. And I don’t want to do this. Maybe I should take you home.” Even though he knew she wouldn’t understand, and that she was even more stubborn when she was drunk.
And when the pieces clicked inside her head, she started to whine.
“C’mon Pat, I do want this. Paaatttt,” She would say, slurred and angry and unable to pronounce Patrick. And when he ignored her, she got fed up. And she climbed all over him, kissing what she could get her lips on, and even then he ignored her. Until finally she took his book from his hands and tossed it into the fire and kissed him on the mouth.
And when he finally managed to push her off of him, the pages of his book were singed with black and nearly gone. Sky began to cry, and a friend of hers started yelling at him. And then everyone was yelling at him.
That’s when Patrick decided that change was bad. If they had gone to the lake like they always did, on that perfect golden evening, everything would be all right. If they had gone, rolled up their pants and waded into the water so the little fish could nibble at their toes, everything would be all right. If Patrick had left his book at home like he usually did when he went to pick up Sky, everything would be all right.
But it wasn’t all right. Nothing was right. Sky was crying, her tears making dark spots in the dirt, and there was a group of angry drunk people that Patrick didn’t know and they were all yelling at him. And his book was gone, burnt to a sad pile of ashes. And somehow the bottle of alcohol got thrown into the fire, and it exploded in a fury of flames. Then, no one cared at all that Patrick made Sky cry, they were screaming and Sky was crying harder and the pile of ashes that was left of Patrick’s book turned on itself and swirled in the air.
When Patrick finally got Sky home, she got out without a word and that was it. They wouldn’t go to the lake the next day. They wouldn’t rent a row boat. And there would never be another Wednesday at the lake. When Patrick got home, he realized her stuff was still in the back of his car. And even though he knew he shouldn’t, he looked through it. And he found another copy of Player Piano by Kurt Vonnegut. On the inside flap, read,
“To Patrick, I hope you don’t have this one yet. I hope you like it and read it and think of me when you do. Remember that time at the lake when it was snowing, and I said snow was angel kisses? And then we shared a little peck? That moment was totally sweet, like you. And when you finish this book, I want you to think of that moment. And think of what you’re reading right now. And when you get it, when you get what I’m saying, come find me, and tell me.
Snow (angel kisses),
Sky”
When Patrick was done reading, he realized that if he had kept his book at home, he would have received this. And they would have gone to the lake. And everything would be all right. And he could have read her copy instead of his, and he could have understood. But he brought his book, they went to the bonfire, and while she was drunk, she was trying to tell him how she felt. And he broke her heart.
The next day, he went to the school. And he waited in the parking lot until the bell rang. And when he saw her walk out with her friend, she had a new bag, filled with her books and homework and school stuff. She saw his car, and she saw her bag in the back as she walked by, and the Kurt Vonnegut book lying on top of it. But she didn’t say anything, she didn’t stop, she didn’t do anything.
And for the longest time, she regretted buying him that book and writing that note. She thought that if she hadn’t bought it, written her feelings in it, they could have gone to the lake and everything would be normal and Patrick would have figured it out on his own. And when she got up the courage to call him, he didn’t answer.
